Homilies
Grant us the grace to accept help
Holy Spirit take my words and speak to each of us according to our need.
Today we hear again one of the most well known stories Jesus ever told: the parable of the Good Samaritan.
A man is travelling from Jerusalem to Jericho. He is attacked, beaten, stripped, and left half dead. Several people pass him by. Religious leaders, no less. People who, from the outside, appear respectable and faithful. But then comes a Samaritan; a foreigner, a person looked down upon and distrusted. And it is he who stops, tends the man’s wounds, and provides for his care.
Most of the time, we read this parable as a call to action: Go and do likewise. Be like the Samaritan. Show compassion. Step across barriers. This isn’t wrong, but today, I’d like us to look at the story from a different angle.
What if we imagine ourselves, or even Jesus himself, not in the role of the Samaritan…but as the man lying in the road?
Jesus knew well what it is to be rejected and cast aside. He entered the world as a child whose parents had to flee for their lives, becoming refugees in Egypt. He grew up in Nazareth, a place of which people said: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” He was misunderstood, falsely accused, rejected by his own people, and finally executed outside the city walls (a place reserved for the excluded and disgraced.)
Jesus chose to take the place of the wounded, the rejected, the vulnerable. He became the one left by the roadside. And when we look at the parable through that lens, we’re reminded of something that we too should not forget:
We could, one day, find ourselves in the ditch. No one is immune from moments of weakness, crisis, or need. And sometimes the help we need comes from the places or people we least expect.
This truth is echoed in the words of Psalm 25, which we also heard this morning:
“To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul; O my God, in you I trust.”
Psalm 25 is the prayer of someone who knows they need guidance and mercy. Someone who knows they cannot manage life alone.
“Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation… Remember, O Lord, your compassion and your steadfast love.”
And so we are reminded that following Christ means living with humility and recognising both our own need for help and our call to help others.
In our world today, there are so many people who find themselves by the roadside. People seeking asylum or refuge, fleeing violence, war, or poverty. People who come to this country not just with needs, but with tremendous gifts. Skills as doctors, nurses, engineers, teachers etc who would be able to offer their skills to help ease the pressure on services like our NHS, or enrich our communities with new perspectives and ideas.
And yet, so often the first label placed upon them is “refugee,” “immigrant,” “asylum seeker,” rather than neighbour, brother, sister.
Britain has become richly diverse over generations. A tapestry of cultures, languages, and faiths. This diversity reflects the creativity of God’s own handiwork. Yet we know that fear and suspicion still linger in conversations about who belongs.
The parable of the Good Samaritan reminds us that God can work through precisely the person we least expect. The Samaritan, the foreigner in that area, became the very instrument of God’s mercy. When we imagine ourselves as the man lying in the ditch, it should force us to ask ourselves:
• How would we wish to be treated if our situations were reversed?
• Would we want to be seen merely as a burden or as a human being made in God’s image?
• And how quickly could our lives change, making us the ones in need of compassion?
This same lesson applies not only in our society, but within our church life. Because just as individuals can end up in the ditch, so can churches.
Sometimes, as congregations, we feel wary of outside help. We might say, “We want to do things our way. We know what’s best for our church. We want our independence.”
And it’s true that love and loyalty for one’s own church community is a beautiful thing. But God calls us to remember that we belong to something bigger—the Body of Christ.
Structures like Ministry Areas, diocesan oversight, and charity regulations exist not to restrict us, but to protect us and help us flourish. They are the guardrails that keep us safe, ensure good governance, and help us care properly for resources entrusted to us. They help us remain a church where all are safeguarded, finances are transparent, and mission is shared.
It can be uncomfortable to surrender some of our independence. But the parable of the Good Samaritan reminds us that sometimes, help comes through people or systems we hadn’t expected or perhaps had even resisted.
Psalm 25 says:
“He leads the humble in what is right, and teaches the humble his way.”
Humility means admitting we don’t have all the answers, that we might need guidance, and that our actions affect more than ourselves. They affect the whole reputation of the Church. So, for us as a church, there are some practical questions to reflect upon:
• Are we willing to listen when others offer guidance, even when it challenges our plans?
• Do we see our Ministry Area as restrictive or a burden or as a place where we can both give and receive help?
• Are our financial practices, governance, and safeguarding fully transparent and in line with charity law, not so that we feel questioned or challenged in what we do but so that we remain trustworthy in the eyes of the wider world?
• Are we willing to trust that God might be sending us help through structures or people we might find difficult?
If we unwaveringly cling to independence at all costs, we may risk becoming the ones left by the roadside, vulnerable and without support. There was a post shared this week on social media with a quote attributed to Thom Rainer, that said ‘Some churches would rather die than get our of the comfort of the past.’ That is such a sad thought that place with so much love in them, that have done so much good for their communities over the years are now suffering because of the uncertainty and fear that change brings.
But if we stop and reassess our position and become willing to trust in God’s steadfast love, we can find new strength, new resources, and new partnerships that will help us continue the mission Christ has given us.
My spiritual director often asks me to reflect on what God sees when he looks at me. It’s hard to hold that mirror to yourself but I do believe that when God looks at us here, He does not see national borders, church boundaries, or institutional walls. He sees His children. Each one beloved. Each one made in His image. Each one called to be neighbour to the other.
So let us pray the words of Psalm 25:
“To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul… Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation.”
May the Lord grant us eyes to see, hearts open to welcome, and the humility to receive help when we are in need.
And may we remember that Jesus himself was once a refugee, an outcast, despised and rejected so that no one in this world need ever feel alone.
Let us live so that no one lies by the side of the road without hope of help. Whether that person is a stranger in need, or a church seeking to find its way.
Let our hearts and our doors be open ready, not just to welcome but to rejoice with those who seek to know God more and wish to meet Him here. Amen