Death by Volkswagen

During my second year of college, I went on a missions trip to Mexico sponsored by my college. I wound up working with the director of the trip and went as the official photographer. Each day I would go out with a different group to document the various projects being completed.

On the last work day, many of the local congregations hosted a dinner for their respective work groups. As it turned out, I wound up attending two of them. Now we had been advised to avoid partaking of the local cuisine unless we were at the hotels. However, it would have been insulting to the hosts to have refused to eat a meal that was a major sacrifice for the them to have provided. Thus, in the spirit of fostering positive international relations, I partook heartily.

All was well for a while. But as we were in the bus heading back, things began to happen. Bad things. Things that make you sweat all over and utter prayers of urgency. By the time we got to the hotel, the situation had become dire. I somehow managed to make it back to my room but I knew this was going to be a long night. The marines may have stormed the halls of Montezuma, but I stormed his bathroom.

It was soon abundantly clear that there was no way that I was going to make it to our evening service and activities. I called the trip director and let him know that if he really needed pictures, somebody was going to have to draw some. After what seemed like hours, I finally made it to bed and managed to fall asleep. I was so out of it, I didn’t even hear my roommate come in. Nor did I hear him get up the next morning.

Our group was split between two hotels. The bus that was to bring us back home was to stop at our hotel at 9:30 and load up my half of the group, then drive to the other hotel and pick up the second half of the group at 10:00. When I heard the door shut as my room mate left, I looked over at the clock. It was 9:34. GREAT JOY IN THE MORNING!

I had not packed anything the night before and sprung up and started throwing things together. By the time I had myself and my bags all situated, and managed to haul it all downstairs, the bus had already left. The other hotel was only 5 blocks away, but when you are still recovering from the ailment I had been dealing with and are also laden with luggage, that seems more like 5 miles.

Luckily there was a bellman there whom I had spoken to a few times during the trip. He realized I had missed the bus and told me “No problem. I get you a cab.” If you’ve ever wondered where old VW Bugs go to die, they get hauled to Monterrey Mexico, painted green, and turned into taxis. There were oodles of them everywhere you went. The bell man gave the driver some instructions in Spanish, threw my bags in and we were off….in the wrong direction.

I had walked between the hotels enough times that week to have our route memorized. I knew right away we were going the wrong way. I did my best to tell the driver “Plaza Hotel, Plaza Hotel.” He just nodded. This called for desperate measures. I pulled upon what little high school Spanish remained within in and said “Necessito Bano! Plaza Hotel.” I then accompanied this with the best “grunting” face I could muster.

It was then that I discovered something. Asking a Mexican cab driver to execute a U-turn is a potentially fatal undertaking. In the US, we’d find an intersection where U-Turns were permissible and wait on a light, or we’d pull into a parking lot and then back out once traffic was clear. Not this fellow. He hit the brakes and spun the wheel in a fashion reminiscent of a Hollywood action flick.

I suddenly found my face pressed flat against the window where I got a front row view of the swerving traffic barreling towards us. That’s when I said “Well that’s it. I’m going to die in a Volkswagen” I imagined the reception at the pearly gates. “You’re here early.” “Mexican Taxi Cab.” “Right...John, we got another one!”

Somehow we managed to survive the initial vector change and within seemingly seconds, we arrived in front of the Plaza. I gave the guy $5 and he seemed happy and since I was happy to be alive, we parted friends. When I finally got my luggage onto the bus, I went inside and found my roommate sitting in the lobby. I asked him “Dude! Why didn’t you wake me up?” He answered “I knew you didn’t fell good.” To which I replied “So you decided to leave me in Mexico?”

It seems a bit absurd doesn’t it? By leaving me as I was, he had actually made my situation worse. In the 10th Chapter of Luke, Jesus is being tested by an expert in the law who asks Him what must do to inherit eternal life. Let’s look at that passage for a moment.

25On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. "Teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?" 26"What is written in the Law?" he replied. "How do you read it?" 27He answered: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'" 28"You have answered correctly," Jesus replied. "Do this and you will live." 29But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?" (NIV)

In response to this question, Jesus tells the parable of the Good Samaritan. No doubt most of you have grown up hearing this story. Often we hear it as a call to love all regardless of race and social status. Surely that is a part of what is being told here. However, it goes deeper than that. The story is about taking action.

The injured man in this story is helpless and broken in every way that one can be. His clothing was gone, his money was gone, he was badly injured, he could no longer get to his destination. The man is the perfect representation of the world we live in. He embodies the brokenness that exists when we are apart from Christ. But he also represents the broken Christian. That person who has been ambushed by the world and it’s allure and has fallen along the road and suddenly found themselves bruised, broken and confused.

To both we are called to help bind wounds and to do all that we can do to ensure that they can pick back up and continue their journey. This passage concludes with the Jesus telling the man to “Go and do likewise”.

Last Sunday, our pastor shared the story of Jepthah, an outcast who was living in exile. In his sermon, he shared the following: “Our Father, in great grace, loved us when we were Jephthah. Looking for sinners, He found us in desperate straits. As one writer says, ‘Lifting us to the level of His much-loved Son, He brought us in, washed our wounds, and changed our direction. All our church-going and hymn-singing and long-praying and committee-sitting and religious-talking will never ease the fact that we were dug from a deep, dark deadly pit. And may we never forget it.’”

This week, take the time to look around you. See those who are hurting and in need and ask God to use you to show them the Love of Christ.

Prayer: That God would cause you to love others as you love yourself.

Suggested Scripture: Luke 10:25-37; Judges 11:1-33