Member-only story
The Good Samaritan
A Poem
He shuffled down the dusty road
And shouldering his heavy load
Through sun-baked, treeless wilderness
of shrubs and reddish loam
He made his way methodically
Down winding path from A to B
Progressing through the nothingness
Towards his distant home
He ambled up a gentle rise
The ambush caught him by surprise
A group of bandits lay in wait
And pounced upon the man
They beat him unrelentingly
They stripped him of his dignity
And left him in a sorry state
And then they turned and ran
The hopeless man lay destitute
His grim demise was absolute
But providentially, it seemed
Another man drew near
The pastor of a local church
An ace in doctrinal research
The leader of the Lord’s redeemed
In faith, without a peer
He saw the beaten gentleman
But being a quite judgmental man
He thus concluded in a trice
“This man must be at fault!”
“It seems to me,” The pastor said,
“The wrath of God is on his head.”
The pastor, without thinking twice
Assumed the man’s assault
was brought upon him by some sin
Now God had cause to do him in
And far be it for him to stop
And reach into the dirt
With half an eye upon the clock
He hurried off to meet his flock
To preach a sermon from the top
On how to love the hurt
The next to pass the groaning man
was from the church the Pastor ran
He knew the Pastor knew his stuff —
The Chairman of the Board
He knew the pastor passed on by
And didn’t stop to wonder…
