Free Pilgrimage by Lynn Austin Page B

means servant. The priests were servants of God and their fellowman. The New Testament tells us that we “are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices” (1 Peter 2:5). Are we becoming too “holy” to stop and help those who have been beaten up by the world and left for dead?
    I also see this parable as a picture of Christ, “Who, being in very nature God . . . made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant” (Philippians 2:6–7). There is no uglier, sin-filled place than earth, filled with unclean, sin-scarred people. Yet Jesus left the holiness of heaven to cross over to our side of the universe and bind up our wounds at His own expense, restoring us to life. He showed us the heart of God. In turn, the way we view people in need reveals how Christlike we have become.
    As our bus travels this modern Jericho road, I don’t see any stranded, wounded travelers along the side of the road. But I think I now understand that my neighbor might have AIDS or live an immoral lifestyle or be a homosexual or a Muslim or an atheist. Will I stay far away from him, unwilling to associate with “defiled” people and become contaminated? Or will I show God’s love and compassion wherever I encounter my neighbors in my everyday life, binding their wounds, givingmy own money, time, and resources for their care? There are Good Samaritans in this world who don’t acknowledge God or follow His rules, yet they are eager to help the needy. Rock stars and celebrities raise millions of dollars to fight world hunger and AIDS and help victims of natural disasters.
    Why am I passing by on the other side?
But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.
Luke 6:35–36
A N EW P RAYER FOR THE J OURNEY
Gracious heavenly Father,
You are a God of love and compassion and mercy. I praise You for sending Your Son to our side of the road to heal our wounds and rescue us from death. Love is Your very nature, yet I confess that I haven’t followed Christ’s example of loving my enemies. Forgive me, Lord, for not standing at the crossroads and helping lost friends and loved ones find their way; for not being a better example of Your sacrificial love. Thank You for a new beginning in my life, a chance to climb out of my comfortable rut and journey with You on the road of discipleship, turning my back on the Good Life in pursuit of a godly life. Help me to embrace change with joy and faith, knowing that Your Spirit gives me the strength to conquer giants in Your name.
Amen

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Jerusalem
Great is the Lord, and most worthy of praise, in the city of our God, his holy mountain. It is beautiful in its loftiness, the joy of the whole earth.
Psalm 48:1–2
    F rom my room in a nineteenth-century guesthouse inside the Old City walls, I awaken to the sound of bells tolling at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher nearby. I want to get an early start on this first day in Jerusalem, so I bundle up against the cool morning air and sit outside on our stone balcony to read my Bible. The trees in the open courtyard below me rustle in the breeze, and the aroma of our breakfast cooking in the guesthouse kitchen makes my stomach rumble.
    I settle back in my plastic chair and open to the Psalms. When I see what today’s psalm is, a thrill of excitement shivers through me. Psalm 48 celebrates Jerusalem as “the city of our God, his holy mountain”—and that’s where I am! Iknow that God is everywhere and that I am never more than a prayer away from His presence, but Jerusalem is His city in a very historical, tangible way. It’s where the Temple once stood, where Jesus was crucified, and where He rose again from the dead. Tears fill my eyes and blur the page as I read this psalm. I have been trying to