The Rescuers
Stories
Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit
Series IV, Cycle A
"Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven." (v. 1)
I was driving one Thursday morning from Heavener, Oklahoma, to a meeting in McAlester, Oklahoma. As I often do when I drive long distances, I was multitasking. In this case, the drive was an hour and a half, and my second task was to organize upcoming ministries. My thoughts were on the church's ministry committee's dinner the next Sunday evening and the upcoming newsletter articles. In particular, I was trying to figure out what I would write for my column. Then it came to me by accident -- literally.
I guess with the intermittent rain and sleet, I hit a slick spot on this paved county road I take as a shortcut. I crossed the eastbound lane and was heading into the ditch when I swerved back on the road. I crossed both lanes and went into the other ditch. I was better off with the first ditch because it was really an open field. However, my chosen path (for lack of a better term) was a thicket of saplings -- several small trees an inch or so in diameter -- and a barbed wire fence. For ten to fifteen yards, I plowed over the brush and scraped the fence. When I finally stopped, I was trapped. In front of me was five yards of sapling trees. These little trees were also pressed up against both driver side doors. The barbed wire fence prevented the passenger side doors from opening. Since the driver's window sometimes acts up, I had to crawl to the back and exit through one of the back windows.
The first vehicle that approached stopped to help. So did the second. As did the third who actually had the ability to help -- a truck and chains. The second guy left when he thought everything was under control. But then we discovered the chain wasn't long enough to reach from the road to my car. So my first rescuer went to get another chain. That left me with the three people in the truck who had stopped to pull me out -- a married couple and a second woman. As we talked, it was apparent that the three probably weren't Christian. They used PG-13 language and indicated that their Wednesday night social wasn't a fellowship dinner. It's amazing how people don't censor themselves when they think you're a student at the local junior college.
After learning I wasn't a student, one woman asked what I did for a living. I told them I was a minister. One of the women asked, "What's that? That's not a preacher or something, is it?" The other woman assured her that a minister was indeed a preacher. I told them that I hoped I didn't make them feel uncomfortable. They assured me I didn't, but I could tell it was a little white lie. Funny, how the conversation held a "G" rating after my occupation was revealed. Finally, the second chain arrived. But before leaving I agreed to pay the couple back by helping them renew their vows on their anniversary, which was a few months away. I gave them my card, and we'll see if they call.
I was struck by the encounter. All the people who stopped to help me were hard-living folks. It was 9:45 a.m. and they weren't at work, which meant they didn't have nine-to-five jobs. Some people who live off this county road are farmers and ranchers. Others live out there simply because it keeps a distance between them and the law. Who were these rescuers that came to my aid? I don't know. As I've said, based on their demeanor, I doubted that they were Christian. However, what was apparent was that their actions were very Christ-like. In fact, every vehicle that passed that way slowed down to make sure everybody was okay. They weren't looking for glory. They were all just helping to help. It made me pray that all Christians, including myself, would be as Christ-like in helping others.
I was driving one Thursday morning from Heavener, Oklahoma, to a meeting in McAlester, Oklahoma. As I often do when I drive long distances, I was multitasking. In this case, the drive was an hour and a half, and my second task was to organize upcoming ministries. My thoughts were on the church's ministry committee's dinner the next Sunday evening and the upcoming newsletter articles. In particular, I was trying to figure out what I would write for my column. Then it came to me by accident -- literally.
I guess with the intermittent rain and sleet, I hit a slick spot on this paved county road I take as a shortcut. I crossed the eastbound lane and was heading into the ditch when I swerved back on the road. I crossed both lanes and went into the other ditch. I was better off with the first ditch because it was really an open field. However, my chosen path (for lack of a better term) was a thicket of saplings -- several small trees an inch or so in diameter -- and a barbed wire fence. For ten to fifteen yards, I plowed over the brush and scraped the fence. When I finally stopped, I was trapped. In front of me was five yards of sapling trees. These little trees were also pressed up against both driver side doors. The barbed wire fence prevented the passenger side doors from opening. Since the driver's window sometimes acts up, I had to crawl to the back and exit through one of the back windows.
The first vehicle that approached stopped to help. So did the second. As did the third who actually had the ability to help -- a truck and chains. The second guy left when he thought everything was under control. But then we discovered the chain wasn't long enough to reach from the road to my car. So my first rescuer went to get another chain. That left me with the three people in the truck who had stopped to pull me out -- a married couple and a second woman. As we talked, it was apparent that the three probably weren't Christian. They used PG-13 language and indicated that their Wednesday night social wasn't a fellowship dinner. It's amazing how people don't censor themselves when they think you're a student at the local junior college.
After learning I wasn't a student, one woman asked what I did for a living. I told them I was a minister. One of the women asked, "What's that? That's not a preacher or something, is it?" The other woman assured her that a minister was indeed a preacher. I told them that I hoped I didn't make them feel uncomfortable. They assured me I didn't, but I could tell it was a little white lie. Funny, how the conversation held a "G" rating after my occupation was revealed. Finally, the second chain arrived. But before leaving I agreed to pay the couple back by helping them renew their vows on their anniversary, which was a few months away. I gave them my card, and we'll see if they call.
I was struck by the encounter. All the people who stopped to help me were hard-living folks. It was 9:45 a.m. and they weren't at work, which meant they didn't have nine-to-five jobs. Some people who live off this county road are farmers and ranchers. Others live out there simply because it keeps a distance between them and the law. Who were these rescuers that came to my aid? I don't know. As I've said, based on their demeanor, I doubted that they were Christian. However, what was apparent was that their actions were very Christ-like. In fact, every vehicle that passed that way slowed down to make sure everybody was okay. They weren't looking for glory. They were all just helping to help. It made me pray that all Christians, including myself, would be as Christ-like in helping others.
