A Show Of Hands
Sermon
Sermons On The Gospel Readings
Series I, Cycle C
How does one describe love for another person? A Scotsman would say, "Love is an outward inexpressability of an inward all overishness." A teenager might call love "an itching in your heart that you can't scratch." A bride-to-be will likely say that "love is a feeling that you feel when you feel that you're feeling a feeling you've never felt before." And if you ask the poet Carl Sandburg he will tell you that love is "a personal sweat." We could go on passing the microphone around allowing folk singers, politicians, teachers, and housewives to have their say. But there is not enough time. So let us turn to the scriptures, to Jesus Christ, and hear his definition of love for another person.
We find the Lord's definition of neighborly love in the parable of the Good Samaritan. Christ's definition does not come in a song, in feelings or abstracts, in theological sayings or poetry. It comes from a concrete story. It comes in a practical application of human concern. "What is love for one's neighbor?"' we ask Jesus. And his reply, "It's in your hands. Look at your hands! There is where love can be known!"
Hands That Can Hurt
When we examine the Lord's parable of the Good Samaritan, we quickly note that the story is something of a meditation on hands. First Jesus tells us about hands that are clenched in fists.
Now hands can do a lot in a clench. They can grip a blackjack, a pair of brass knuckles, or a switchblade. They can squeeze the trigger of a pistol, strike as a fist, or choke the life out of someone. Hands can take and take, and take some more. They can forge checks, steal money, and destroy property.
Obviously, these are the sort of hands the robbers had in Jesus' parable. The text says, "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half dead."
Certainly we still have the hands of thieves with us in our world today. Their motto is, "What's yours is mine and I'll take it." Shoplifters, burglars, rapists, murderers -- the streets are full of them. But before we pat ourselves on the back saying, "I thank thee, Lord of heaven, that I am not like these thieves," let us examine our own hands a bit more closely.
Our hands can be clenched in fists in many ways. They can be destructive in a variety of fashions. Hands can rob and injure both in what they do and in what they do not do. A school teacher who does not adequately prepare his lesson is robbing his pupils. An attorney who flips through his law books, finds a loophole, and then uses his hands to argue his case fervently in court can rob society of justice. A workman who is lazy and takes shortcuts is a payroll thief. (His paycheck ought to be gift-wrapped each week.) A father is a thief when he does not take time to be with his children. A gossip is a thief who steals a reputation. Then there is the thief who refuses to honor his vows to the church. He deprives the Sunday school of his talents. He withholds his finances. He is destructive by avoiding worship and the therapy therein. And he is being just as destructive to the church as an arsonist or a burglar.
But, I ask you, is this any way to use our hands? I remind you that God showed his hands in this world in the person of Jesus Christ. His hands were gentle hands. They were hands of healing and sharing, praying hands, hands that took up a whip for justice. They were, indeed, saving hands! And aren't those the kind of hands you want?
Idle Hands
Yes, hands can do a lot of things. They can rob and beat; they can destroy and kill. But hands are much more versatile than that. Hands can also be idle. They can be folded in the lap or stuffed in a pocket. They can grip tightly, hold fast and firm. Hands can cover the mouth, plug the ears, and shield the eyes from seeing.
These are the kind of hands that the priest and the Levite in Christ's parable had. They were tight-fisted men. Their hands were idle toward human need.
The text says that the robbers left their victim naked and half dead in the ditch. And "by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him he passed by on the other side." No doubt this priest was remembering that according to Jewish law he who touched a dead man was unclean for seven days (Numbers 19:11). From a distance the priest could not be sure, but he feared that the man was dead. And if he touched him he would lose his turn of duty in the Temple. And he refused to risk that, so he passed on. To him religious ceremony was more important than charity. His career was more important than meeting human need. If the robbers' hands were clenched, the priest's hands were tight-fisted. If the thieves' motto was, "What's yours is mine and I'll take it," then the priest's motto was, "What's mine is mine and I'll keep it."
You young people need to guard against this attitude. I am thinking of that little pimply-faced boy in your class. He tries so hard to be included. He is lonely. Do you ever sit with him at the lunch table? Do you offer your friendship to him? Or do you pass by on the other side, not wanting yourself to face criticism and mockery? Do you, too, fold your hands, putting popularity ahead of human need?
A church group asked a minister in Seattle, Washington, to give them a tour of the inner city. "Show us the needs," they asked. So the pastor spent three hours on and off a bus with the church group. He showed them a slum dwelling with its rats and leaky plumbing. He showed them firsthand how the vicious circle of superstition, injustice, oppression, crime, and hopelessness operated. As the bus pulled to the curb back at the church, there was a moment of strict silence as the people sat under the weight of what they had seen. Then the church leader began to thank the minister profusely for the tour. Finishing her statement of gratitude, the woman then asked, "Now before we leave, can you tell us where the best Chinese restaurant in town is?" Not, "I see the need, what can I do?" but, "I feel a need, where can I eat?" And they passed by on the other side.
Another tight-fisted man in the text was the Levite. The text says that he, too, saw the victim. And he too hurried along.
The text seems to infer that the Levite had gone nearer to the man before passing on. Perhaps his heart had immediately gone out to the man. His first reaction was to stop and help. But then he had second thoughts. Bandits were in the habit of using decoys. One of their number would act the part of a wounded man. Then when some unsuspecting traveler stopped over him, the thieves would rush upon him. The Levite possibly thought of all this. Involvement was risky business. And since his motto was, "Safety first," he too, passed by on the other side.
We live in the same kind of world today. Involvement is still a risky business. Helping hands can still get you into trouble. You can still be taken advantage of. And many people have simply stuffed their hands in their pockets and said, "Safety first. What's mine is mine and I'll keep it."
Beckett's play, Waiting for Godot, characterizes modern society. In it Vladimir nervously asks, "Well? What do we do?" His friend Estragon hangs his head and mumbles, "Don't let's do anything; it's safer." And so we fold our hands and pass by on the opposite side. It's safer.
You heard about the lady's car that stalled on the expressway. She got out, raised the hood, tied a handkerchief to the aerial, and waited for help. Two hours passed in the hot, blistering summer afternoon. Hundreds of automobiles zoomed past her. You can imagine her relief when a Cadillac full of women pulled up beside her, the electric window lowered, out swept a gush of cool fragrant air, and a lady inquired, "Pardon me. We hate to bother you. But could you tell us where you got that darling pants suit you're wearing?" And so we go through life concerned with our own needs and wants, while blind to the needs of others.
Helping Hands
Yes, Jesus said neighborly love is defined in your hands. And hands can do so much! Sure they can gouge and rob and kill. They can be idle, build a fence to hide an ugly view, or stop one's ears. But, thank God, their story doesn't stop here. Hands can also give. They can soothe and lift, offer ministry in any one of a thousand ways. They can give gifts, carry burdens, create, and share.
And in the text Jesus tells us about the hands of a Samaritan he calls good. The text says that after the robbers, after the priest and the Levite, after their hands, a Samaritan came to where the victim was. "And when he saw him, he had compassion, and went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine; then he set him on his own beast and brought him to an inn, and took care of him."
Now some interesting things need to be brought out concerning the Samaritan's behavior. The road from Jerusalem to Jericho is the scene of this parable. It was then and still is today a notoriously dangerous road. Jerusalem is 2,300 feet above sea level; Jericho, which stood near the Dead Sea, is 1,300 below sea level. So then, the 21-mile road that joins Jericho to Jerusalem drops nearly 3,600 feet. It is a road of narrow, rocky defiles and sudden turnings. And naturally it was a perfect hideout for bandits. In the fifth century Jerome called it "the red or bloody way." In the nineteenth century it was still necessary to pay safety money to local sheiks before one could travel on it. In Jesus' time people seldom traveled on this road alone. They moved in convoys because of the safety in numbers. Yet the way Jesus told this parable leads one to believe that this traveler had attempted to go it alone. He must have been a foolhardy, reckless fellow. And he ended up victimized and suffering in the ditch. He had no one to blame but himself. Still, the Samaritan had compassion on him. Still, he helped him. Is Jesus saying that we even have to help fools?
Also, notice who it was who helped whom in this parable. A Samaritan was helping a man who was probably Jewish. You will recall that Jews had no dealings with Samaritans, who were social outcasts. So here we find a man who has borne the brunt of a lifelong prejudice helping a member of a society that has oppressed him. Today's equivalent would be a black businessman helping a white man who had been mugged by a street gang.
Then there is the fact that the Good Samaritan met the victim's needs. He didn't just pray for the man and walk away. Nor did he give him advice. "The hospital is down this road to the left. Ask anyone. They'll tell you." He took time, muscle, his donkey (while he himself walked), and money, and he got the victim to an inn. There he saw to it that the victim was nursed back to health.
You will also note that the Samaritan met only the man's needs. His purpose was to get the man on his feet so he could stand on his own. Jesus is saying that we are not responsible for a wino's beverage or a bum's cigarettes. If you are a Good Samaritan, you meet a man's needs not his wants or sins. (Welfare take note!)
Also of interest is the fact that we are not told the Good Samaritan's name. He remains anonymous to all. This is in keeping with Christ's teaching on giving: "Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing" (Matthew 6:3). The parable is teaching that we are not to give for show, for the praise of men, but quietly and out of compassion.
Yes, we have seen the hands of the Samaritan. They are open hands, giving and ministering hands. His motto was, "What's mine is yours and we'll share it!"
What about your hands? Are your hands clenched? Are they selfish and tight-fisted? Or are they open palms?
There is still so much need in the world today. Hurting hands have done their worst and idle hands have refused to do their work. There is a victim beside every foot path you may care to trod. Prison, divorce, poverty, ignorance, illness, joblessness -- as the population increases the number of victims grows. There are now more beaten, stripped, and half-dead people beside life's roads than one can count or carry. The televison shows us. The radio blurts it out. Newspapers tell us the details. Magazines pictorialize it.
Cervantes, the author of Don Quixote, said, "Many times I took up my pen to write and many times I put it down not knowing what to say." I have felt the same way while writing this sermon. Human need is so great I have all but been overwhelmed. I have paused at this point, gripped the pen to write, and put the pen down again not knowing what to say. I think the key to responsible living in a world with a bloody victim almost every step of the way down Jericho's road is always to do the most loving, practical thing possible. If you do that, you will always be doing God's will.
As you travel the roads of life, it is important to start where you are. You cannot always be open-handed in India, but you can be open-handed in your own neighborhood. I am thinking of a meter reader who saw a frayed electrical wire in an elderly customer's basement. He fixed it with a little roll of tape he carried with him. I am thinking of a dentist who pulled three teeth from a poor lady's mouth. He wrote her a prescription for pain, then seeing that she could not afford the medicine, reached into his own wallet and handed her the ten dollars. I am thinking of an elderly couple who assisted me when I ran out of gas returning from a revival late at night. They helped a stranger at midnight! Help the victims beside your own driveway and on the way to work.
Yes, start where you are. Do the things within reach and the Lord will lengthen your arm. In Christianity the reward of a job well done is more work! And God will give you an opportunity to reach out from your own neighborhood to other parts of the world. Your own church gives you opportunities to provide money to feed the poor and develop their agricultural programs. The government of the United States can be taught to give more generously and wisely of her resources. Agencies give you a chance to adopt a child orphaned and hungry. Yes, start right where you are. The need is overwhelming. But start! And reach out from there.
How Many Hands Do You Have?
Now let me ask you a question. How many hands do you have? You've only got two, right? Wrong! Actually, you've got six. We've all got two hands that rob, two that are closed, and another two that are giving. The problem is, how do we get rid to the two that rob, the other two that are selfish, and keep and strengthen the two that are giving?
I think that at least part of the answer is found in this poem called, "Hands" that was written by James D. Smith, an inmate at the U.S. Penitentiary in Leavenworth, Kansas. He writes:
Hands express many things ...
Sorrow, gladness, fear.
Hands can push someone away,
Or hold them very near.
Hands create beautiful things.
And some hands can destroy.
Hands can spank a naughty child
Or mend a broken toy.
But there's another use for hands,
Which everyone can afford.
And that's when you reach out and say,
Take my hand, please, Lord.
Yes, part of the answer comes in giving your hands to God. Christ died for your hands, your fists, and your selfishness. He takes the hurt and stinginess out of them. And he strengthens them to love. He outfits them to serve your brother.
The other part of the answer comes when we give our hands to other people. Joe had been asked to get up at five in the morning and drive a crippled child fifty miles to the hospital. He did not want to do it, but he did not know how to say no. A woman carried the child out to the car and set him next to the driver's seat. All the while she mumbled her thanks through tears. Joe said everything would be all right and quickly drove off. After a mile or so the child asked shyly: "You're God, aren't you?" "I'm afraid not, little fellow," replied Joe. "I thought you were God," said the child. "I heard Mother praying next to my bed asking God to help me get to the hospital, so I could get well and play with the other children. Do you work for God?" "Sometimes, I guess," Joe answered, "but not regularly. I think I'm going to work for him a lot more from now on!"
Conclusion
And Jesus said, " 'Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?' He said, 'The one who showed him mercy.' And Jesus said to him, 'Go and do likewise.' "
We find the Lord's definition of neighborly love in the parable of the Good Samaritan. Christ's definition does not come in a song, in feelings or abstracts, in theological sayings or poetry. It comes from a concrete story. It comes in a practical application of human concern. "What is love for one's neighbor?"' we ask Jesus. And his reply, "It's in your hands. Look at your hands! There is where love can be known!"
Hands That Can Hurt
When we examine the Lord's parable of the Good Samaritan, we quickly note that the story is something of a meditation on hands. First Jesus tells us about hands that are clenched in fists.
Now hands can do a lot in a clench. They can grip a blackjack, a pair of brass knuckles, or a switchblade. They can squeeze the trigger of a pistol, strike as a fist, or choke the life out of someone. Hands can take and take, and take some more. They can forge checks, steal money, and destroy property.
Obviously, these are the sort of hands the robbers had in Jesus' parable. The text says, "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him, and departed, leaving him half dead."
Certainly we still have the hands of thieves with us in our world today. Their motto is, "What's yours is mine and I'll take it." Shoplifters, burglars, rapists, murderers -- the streets are full of them. But before we pat ourselves on the back saying, "I thank thee, Lord of heaven, that I am not like these thieves," let us examine our own hands a bit more closely.
Our hands can be clenched in fists in many ways. They can be destructive in a variety of fashions. Hands can rob and injure both in what they do and in what they do not do. A school teacher who does not adequately prepare his lesson is robbing his pupils. An attorney who flips through his law books, finds a loophole, and then uses his hands to argue his case fervently in court can rob society of justice. A workman who is lazy and takes shortcuts is a payroll thief. (His paycheck ought to be gift-wrapped each week.) A father is a thief when he does not take time to be with his children. A gossip is a thief who steals a reputation. Then there is the thief who refuses to honor his vows to the church. He deprives the Sunday school of his talents. He withholds his finances. He is destructive by avoiding worship and the therapy therein. And he is being just as destructive to the church as an arsonist or a burglar.
But, I ask you, is this any way to use our hands? I remind you that God showed his hands in this world in the person of Jesus Christ. His hands were gentle hands. They were hands of healing and sharing, praying hands, hands that took up a whip for justice. They were, indeed, saving hands! And aren't those the kind of hands you want?
Idle Hands
Yes, hands can do a lot of things. They can rob and beat; they can destroy and kill. But hands are much more versatile than that. Hands can also be idle. They can be folded in the lap or stuffed in a pocket. They can grip tightly, hold fast and firm. Hands can cover the mouth, plug the ears, and shield the eyes from seeing.
These are the kind of hands that the priest and the Levite in Christ's parable had. They were tight-fisted men. Their hands were idle toward human need.
The text says that the robbers left their victim naked and half dead in the ditch. And "by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him he passed by on the other side." No doubt this priest was remembering that according to Jewish law he who touched a dead man was unclean for seven days (Numbers 19:11). From a distance the priest could not be sure, but he feared that the man was dead. And if he touched him he would lose his turn of duty in the Temple. And he refused to risk that, so he passed on. To him religious ceremony was more important than charity. His career was more important than meeting human need. If the robbers' hands were clenched, the priest's hands were tight-fisted. If the thieves' motto was, "What's yours is mine and I'll take it," then the priest's motto was, "What's mine is mine and I'll keep it."
You young people need to guard against this attitude. I am thinking of that little pimply-faced boy in your class. He tries so hard to be included. He is lonely. Do you ever sit with him at the lunch table? Do you offer your friendship to him? Or do you pass by on the other side, not wanting yourself to face criticism and mockery? Do you, too, fold your hands, putting popularity ahead of human need?
A church group asked a minister in Seattle, Washington, to give them a tour of the inner city. "Show us the needs," they asked. So the pastor spent three hours on and off a bus with the church group. He showed them a slum dwelling with its rats and leaky plumbing. He showed them firsthand how the vicious circle of superstition, injustice, oppression, crime, and hopelessness operated. As the bus pulled to the curb back at the church, there was a moment of strict silence as the people sat under the weight of what they had seen. Then the church leader began to thank the minister profusely for the tour. Finishing her statement of gratitude, the woman then asked, "Now before we leave, can you tell us where the best Chinese restaurant in town is?" Not, "I see the need, what can I do?" but, "I feel a need, where can I eat?" And they passed by on the other side.
Another tight-fisted man in the text was the Levite. The text says that he, too, saw the victim. And he too hurried along.
The text seems to infer that the Levite had gone nearer to the man before passing on. Perhaps his heart had immediately gone out to the man. His first reaction was to stop and help. But then he had second thoughts. Bandits were in the habit of using decoys. One of their number would act the part of a wounded man. Then when some unsuspecting traveler stopped over him, the thieves would rush upon him. The Levite possibly thought of all this. Involvement was risky business. And since his motto was, "Safety first," he too, passed by on the other side.
We live in the same kind of world today. Involvement is still a risky business. Helping hands can still get you into trouble. You can still be taken advantage of. And many people have simply stuffed their hands in their pockets and said, "Safety first. What's mine is mine and I'll keep it."
Beckett's play, Waiting for Godot, characterizes modern society. In it Vladimir nervously asks, "Well? What do we do?" His friend Estragon hangs his head and mumbles, "Don't let's do anything; it's safer." And so we fold our hands and pass by on the opposite side. It's safer.
You heard about the lady's car that stalled on the expressway. She got out, raised the hood, tied a handkerchief to the aerial, and waited for help. Two hours passed in the hot, blistering summer afternoon. Hundreds of automobiles zoomed past her. You can imagine her relief when a Cadillac full of women pulled up beside her, the electric window lowered, out swept a gush of cool fragrant air, and a lady inquired, "Pardon me. We hate to bother you. But could you tell us where you got that darling pants suit you're wearing?" And so we go through life concerned with our own needs and wants, while blind to the needs of others.
Helping Hands
Yes, Jesus said neighborly love is defined in your hands. And hands can do so much! Sure they can gouge and rob and kill. They can be idle, build a fence to hide an ugly view, or stop one's ears. But, thank God, their story doesn't stop here. Hands can also give. They can soothe and lift, offer ministry in any one of a thousand ways. They can give gifts, carry burdens, create, and share.
And in the text Jesus tells us about the hands of a Samaritan he calls good. The text says that after the robbers, after the priest and the Levite, after their hands, a Samaritan came to where the victim was. "And when he saw him, he had compassion, and went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine; then he set him on his own beast and brought him to an inn, and took care of him."
Now some interesting things need to be brought out concerning the Samaritan's behavior. The road from Jerusalem to Jericho is the scene of this parable. It was then and still is today a notoriously dangerous road. Jerusalem is 2,300 feet above sea level; Jericho, which stood near the Dead Sea, is 1,300 below sea level. So then, the 21-mile road that joins Jericho to Jerusalem drops nearly 3,600 feet. It is a road of narrow, rocky defiles and sudden turnings. And naturally it was a perfect hideout for bandits. In the fifth century Jerome called it "the red or bloody way." In the nineteenth century it was still necessary to pay safety money to local sheiks before one could travel on it. In Jesus' time people seldom traveled on this road alone. They moved in convoys because of the safety in numbers. Yet the way Jesus told this parable leads one to believe that this traveler had attempted to go it alone. He must have been a foolhardy, reckless fellow. And he ended up victimized and suffering in the ditch. He had no one to blame but himself. Still, the Samaritan had compassion on him. Still, he helped him. Is Jesus saying that we even have to help fools?
Also, notice who it was who helped whom in this parable. A Samaritan was helping a man who was probably Jewish. You will recall that Jews had no dealings with Samaritans, who were social outcasts. So here we find a man who has borne the brunt of a lifelong prejudice helping a member of a society that has oppressed him. Today's equivalent would be a black businessman helping a white man who had been mugged by a street gang.
Then there is the fact that the Good Samaritan met the victim's needs. He didn't just pray for the man and walk away. Nor did he give him advice. "The hospital is down this road to the left. Ask anyone. They'll tell you." He took time, muscle, his donkey (while he himself walked), and money, and he got the victim to an inn. There he saw to it that the victim was nursed back to health.
You will also note that the Samaritan met only the man's needs. His purpose was to get the man on his feet so he could stand on his own. Jesus is saying that we are not responsible for a wino's beverage or a bum's cigarettes. If you are a Good Samaritan, you meet a man's needs not his wants or sins. (Welfare take note!)
Also of interest is the fact that we are not told the Good Samaritan's name. He remains anonymous to all. This is in keeping with Christ's teaching on giving: "Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing" (Matthew 6:3). The parable is teaching that we are not to give for show, for the praise of men, but quietly and out of compassion.
Yes, we have seen the hands of the Samaritan. They are open hands, giving and ministering hands. His motto was, "What's mine is yours and we'll share it!"
What about your hands? Are your hands clenched? Are they selfish and tight-fisted? Or are they open palms?
There is still so much need in the world today. Hurting hands have done their worst and idle hands have refused to do their work. There is a victim beside every foot path you may care to trod. Prison, divorce, poverty, ignorance, illness, joblessness -- as the population increases the number of victims grows. There are now more beaten, stripped, and half-dead people beside life's roads than one can count or carry. The televison shows us. The radio blurts it out. Newspapers tell us the details. Magazines pictorialize it.
Cervantes, the author of Don Quixote, said, "Many times I took up my pen to write and many times I put it down not knowing what to say." I have felt the same way while writing this sermon. Human need is so great I have all but been overwhelmed. I have paused at this point, gripped the pen to write, and put the pen down again not knowing what to say. I think the key to responsible living in a world with a bloody victim almost every step of the way down Jericho's road is always to do the most loving, practical thing possible. If you do that, you will always be doing God's will.
As you travel the roads of life, it is important to start where you are. You cannot always be open-handed in India, but you can be open-handed in your own neighborhood. I am thinking of a meter reader who saw a frayed electrical wire in an elderly customer's basement. He fixed it with a little roll of tape he carried with him. I am thinking of a dentist who pulled three teeth from a poor lady's mouth. He wrote her a prescription for pain, then seeing that she could not afford the medicine, reached into his own wallet and handed her the ten dollars. I am thinking of an elderly couple who assisted me when I ran out of gas returning from a revival late at night. They helped a stranger at midnight! Help the victims beside your own driveway and on the way to work.
Yes, start where you are. Do the things within reach and the Lord will lengthen your arm. In Christianity the reward of a job well done is more work! And God will give you an opportunity to reach out from your own neighborhood to other parts of the world. Your own church gives you opportunities to provide money to feed the poor and develop their agricultural programs. The government of the United States can be taught to give more generously and wisely of her resources. Agencies give you a chance to adopt a child orphaned and hungry. Yes, start right where you are. The need is overwhelming. But start! And reach out from there.
How Many Hands Do You Have?
Now let me ask you a question. How many hands do you have? You've only got two, right? Wrong! Actually, you've got six. We've all got two hands that rob, two that are closed, and another two that are giving. The problem is, how do we get rid to the two that rob, the other two that are selfish, and keep and strengthen the two that are giving?
I think that at least part of the answer is found in this poem called, "Hands" that was written by James D. Smith, an inmate at the U.S. Penitentiary in Leavenworth, Kansas. He writes:
Hands express many things ...
Sorrow, gladness, fear.
Hands can push someone away,
Or hold them very near.
Hands create beautiful things.
And some hands can destroy.
Hands can spank a naughty child
Or mend a broken toy.
But there's another use for hands,
Which everyone can afford.
And that's when you reach out and say,
Take my hand, please, Lord.
Yes, part of the answer comes in giving your hands to God. Christ died for your hands, your fists, and your selfishness. He takes the hurt and stinginess out of them. And he strengthens them to love. He outfits them to serve your brother.
The other part of the answer comes when we give our hands to other people. Joe had been asked to get up at five in the morning and drive a crippled child fifty miles to the hospital. He did not want to do it, but he did not know how to say no. A woman carried the child out to the car and set him next to the driver's seat. All the while she mumbled her thanks through tears. Joe said everything would be all right and quickly drove off. After a mile or so the child asked shyly: "You're God, aren't you?" "I'm afraid not, little fellow," replied Joe. "I thought you were God," said the child. "I heard Mother praying next to my bed asking God to help me get to the hospital, so I could get well and play with the other children. Do you work for God?" "Sometimes, I guess," Joe answered, "but not regularly. I think I'm going to work for him a lot more from now on!"
Conclusion
And Jesus said, " 'Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?' He said, 'The one who showed him mercy.' And Jesus said to him, 'Go and do likewise.' "
