(Continued)
WHAT a profound truth this is, that God cares! It shows that He is not unmindful nor indifferent; and where shall we find it better enforced or more fully exemplified than in the parable that immediately precedes, and is intended to accompany, the story of Martha?
Have you ever read and pondered that wonderful parable recorded in Luke 10 about the man who fell among thieves? After wounding him and taking away all he possessed, they left him half dead by the roadside.
The priest and Levite passed by, but the most they did was to look upon him and leave him as he was.
At length came a Samaritan, and he went to him and bound up his wounds; and more than that, we read: he “set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.” But even this was not the limit of his goodness. The words (addressed to the host) that fell upon the astonished ears of the erstwhile benighted traveler were these: “Take care of him, and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again 1 will repay thee.”
It will be seen at once that the story illustrates far more than how forgiveness of sins is to be obtained. The guilt of the sinner is implied, no doubt, for the man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho.
From the place of blessing—Jerusalem means the vision of peace—to the place of the curse.
With one stroke the moral tendency of the race is exposed. But one comes along who can reverse all this. He brings the oil and the wine, the balm of Gilead. Man is a prey to enemies, but here is a friend. But there is more. A threefold need on the part of the man is met by a threefold action on the part of the good Samaritan. The man is wounded, he is weak and he is in want. His wounds are bound up, oil and wine being poured in. This meets the first need. The second is met by his friend placing him upon his own beast. The third, by bringing him to the inn and taking care of him. This last is the climax of the parable.
If, however, we are refusing to recognize our true condition, and our need of Christ and His work; if we think that by our own efforts and goodness we are going to merit heaven, and have no need of One to “come where we were,” and take our place, then freedom from care can never be ours in the truest sense, for the simple reason that the parable we are considering loses all its meaning, if we are not wounded, and strengthless, and in need of a Friend to care for us from first to last. Out of Christ we can never know what God can be to us. And it is just this, what God is to the one who obeys Him, and therefore trusts wholly in Christ, that enables the believer to rise above all care.
The man by the roadside might have borne his fate with stolid indifference, and succumbed at last without a murmur, but he never would have known how much another could care for him. And so today, are there not those who assume an attitude of indifference in regard both to their present need and the future? They try to shut their eyes, and in a measure they may succeed, but they miss one thing―they never can know, while in that attitude, what God is waiting to be to them, how much and how well He can care· for them, or what the ministry of Christ means.
It is just at this point the striking connection with Martha’s history comes into view. She said to the Lord, “Dost thou not care?” Could the man in the inn have addressed such words to the Samaritan? Had he not heard the injunction “take care of him”? Had Martha known the teaching of that parable could she have ever used the words she did? Can we, who profess to believe that Christ was really drawing a picture of Himself, ever question His care? Is not the whole parable of the good Samaritan just an answer to this touching appeal of Martha’s? And in the light of this fact, the story Christ tells assumes a meaning wonderful and grand in the extreme. For does it not assure us there is One who cares, and that the deepest cry of the human heart has been anticipated? There is One who thinks of us and is capable of providing for our every need.
Another point in connection with Martha’s utterance is anticipated by the parable. She felt her loneliness. “Dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve ALONE?” Alone and uncared for! This is what she felt at that moment; and hers is not an isolated case.
Deep down in the innermost recesses of every human heart the same thing is felt, until the truth is known that God cares. Man has lost God, and he is bound to feel alone until God is met with again. He is to be met with in the Person of the One who portrayed Himself as the Good Samaritan. “A certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was.” The underlying truth here is that God is ever seeking man, and seeking him in order to help. For it is as true that God has lost man as it is that man has lost God. Man without God! It is an anomaly, since God made man and gave him all his powers, moral as well as physical. Try as he will, man cannot get on without his Maker any more than he can get on without his fellow man. Martha’s utterance therefore expresses the truth, however much we may try to disguise it. A feeling of loneliness and neglect will steal over us some time or other, and it is just this feeling of loneliness and neglect that is the fruitful source of all care.
(To be concluded.)