Those That Should Matter

    Carl Sandberg told of frequent stands that Abraham Lincoln took against racial prejudice. One particularly stirring drama unfolded on the night of Lincoln’s second inauguration ball. He had just delivered the blazing address in which he made famous the words, “With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work that we are in.”

    That evening, in a White House reception room, Lincoln stood shaking hands with a long line of well-wishers. Someone informed him that Frederick Douglass was at the door, but security wouldn’t let him in because he was black.

    Lincoln broke off from high-level protocol and had Douglass shown in at once. The crowd of guests hushed as the great leader appeared at the door. In a booming voice that filled the silence, Lincoln unashamedly announced, “Here comes my friend Douglass!” And then turning to Douglass, Lincoln said, “I am glad to see you. I saw you in the crowd today, listening to my address. There is no man in the country whose opinion I value more than yours. I want to know what you think of it.”

    Those who see and respect the rich human qualities in individuals whom others reject blaze pioneer trails through thick jungles of bigotry. The next generation can walk on the path of such giants. What further delays might have impeded race relations in this country without Lincoln’s heart and courage? This is Jesus’ style as well.

    As I write these words, I remember a long-ago wrong that still stings like a frozen lash. During our days in Kelowna, British Columbia, we came into an interesting circle of friends. Among them were Indians from a nearby reservation, as well as local civic leaders. The local Indian band occupied the low rungs of the social ladder and bore the brunt of racial prejudice. Ironically, I knew that several friends from both the Siwash reservation and the social register battled alcoholism. We’ll call one Indian who befriended me “Joe Redfox.” Joe was a street problem, notorious for wild bouts of public intoxication.

Those who see and respect the rich human qualities in individuals whom others reject blaze pioneer trails through thick jungles of bigotry.

    A friend from the other end of the social ladder, with whom I served a term or two in the leadership of the Kiwanis Club, was his honor, the mayor.

    Now, in those young and tender days, I was quite self-impressed that I buddied with no less than Lord Mayor. I feel the stinging lash once again when I recall one particular Saturday: I was walking down the town’s main drag when I spied my friend Joe Redfox coming toward me in the next block. Just as Joe raised his hand to greet me and I was about to raise mine in return, the familiar voice of my friend the mayor called out my name from the across the street. I halted my greeting before it reached shoulder height, dropped it quick as a flash, wheeled on my heel, and headed across to shake his honor’s hand. I was glowing in the public attention I was getting from the mayor. At the same moment, I was pretending I didn’t even know Joe, neglecting to return his warm personal greeting. My greed for prestige so overwhelmed me that I totally wrote off the dignity and significance of a very warm human being whom I called “friend.” Though hopefully God has done some renovation on my character across the intervening years, my face still burns with shame at that memory. Why? I was so far from the heart of Jesus. So dehumanizing to my friend Joe.

    God in the flesh was not only available to this woman; he was also sensitive to her. He read the signs that told the story of her troubled life. I don’t know how Jesus picked up on all the distress signals. Maybe he’d already heard gossip, or maybe there was some subtle, indescribable something about her that spoke to him of sadness. Who knows? But somehow he realized that life had sent her little kindness. Perhaps John included this story in his Gospel because few could feel any more unwanted than this woman.

    Jesus was sensitive, not only to the hopelessness of this woman, but also to the great chasm between them. He, a man. She, a woman. He, a Jew. She, a Samaritan. What do you suppose went through her mind as she walked past the man who sat on the well watching her- a Jew who actually opened his mouth to speak to her: “Could you give me a drink of water?” Was she startled, then shocked, then suspicious? Whatever she felt, Jesus most definitely had a hostile person on his hands! She was probably hostile toward men in general, but certainly toward this man, a Jew.

 

Print this Article Send it to a Friend Heartlight encourages you to share this material with others in church bulletins, personal emails and other non-commercial uses. Please see our Usage Guidelines for more information.	The Abandoned Water Jar, Part 1 The Abandoned Water Jar, Part 2   Buy The Jesus Touch online!
	ALL of Heartlight        --- ARTICLES   A Taste of Home   Caring Touch   Diary of God   Hope from the Hill Country   Just for Men   Just for Women   Leading in Hope   Love, Sex & Marriage   Making Life Work   Prayer for the Nation   Single...Not Alone   Special Features   Timely Truths   Together in His Grace   Two Minute Meditations        --- DEVOTIONALS   Charles Spurgeon   Daily Wisdom   My Utmost for His Highest   Praying with Paul   Quotemeal   Today's Verse   What Jesus Did

Excerpted from The Jesus Touch, ©2002, Howard Publishing Company. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Title: "The Abandoned Water Jar, Part 3"
Author: Lynn Anderson
Publication Date: July 31, 2002