What's My Samaria?

I've heard the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman told a thousand times. Throughout all those times however, it never spoke to me the way that it did when I listened to G. D. talk about it. G. D. was in his mid-forties and couldn't have stood taller than 5'6". So Samaria was commonly referred to as "The city of Dogs," for it was inhabited by social pariahs: prostitutes, tax collectors, thieves, alcoholics, and the like. Jews who traveled south from Judea to Galilee would oftentimes travel for days out of their way to avoid passing through Samaria. Jesus however, when traveling south to Galilee, passed straight through Samaria in order to encounter a broken woman by a well.

If Jesus walked and talked today, I am convinced that the radicalism that characterized his life on earth would shock many people: he condemned institutional religion, kicked it with thieves, prostitutes, lepers, and adulterers, called the religious leaders "vipers" and "hypocrites," drove money changers out of the temple with a whip, and died for those who crucified him.

Listening to G. D. talk about how the grace and the mercy that characterized Jesus' life caused me to ask myself, "So Amanda, what's your Samaria?"

What are those places that I avoid because not avoiding them would be too much of a leap outside of my comfort zone? Who are those people that I dodge whenever I see them or pretend that I'm asleep whenever they stop by? Who are those people to whom I reply jovially, "I'll try to make it!" when they invite me out to something knowing full well that I have no intention of stopping by?

It has taken me some time to realize that following Christ demands that I conform to a standard greater than myself. It means loving those who are hard to love; it means serving those who are difficult to serve; following Jesus means that I crucify myself daily for the sake of others.