July 13 ~ Compassion Means Being Willing to be Interrupted

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Deuteronomy 30:9-14

Psalm 25:1-10

Colossians 1:1-14

Luke 10:25-37

(The content of this sermon was 100% written in Canada by a human)

Today, we are called to consider the wonderfully instructional parable of the Good Samaritan. In the gospel, a lawyer poses a question to Jesus: he seeks a guide for getting to heaven. “Love God, and love your neighbor,” Jesus tells him. To which the lawyer replies, “Define the word ‘neighbor’ for me.”

And so Jesus tells the story of the Good Samaritan. A man is lying injured in a ditch after being robbed. A priest walks by, sees him, and crosses to the other side. A Levite does the same. Finally, it is the Samaritan, the outcast, who stops and offers aid. The Good Samaritan doesn’t only help the injured man to safety, but he pays, out of his own pocket, for his care. “Which of these was the neighbor to the man?” Jesus asks the lawyer. The answer is obvious: the stranger who showed mercy.

This parable reminds me of something that happened recently, much closer to home. You’ve likely seen the headlines—yet another intense wildfire season in Canada. With 510 wildfires burning, and with at least 140 of those deemed out of control as of Thursday, entire towns have been forced to evacuate. Thousands of hectares of land have been scorched, wildlife displaced, homes destroyed. It’s devastating.

But what caught my attention wasn’t just the fires—it was the people who responded.

One story out of Garden Hill stayed with me. As the flames encroached and the air thickened with smoke, evacuation orders were issued, and residents began fleeing in every direction. But there were some who stayed—not because they had no means to leave, but because they refused to leave others behind. A young man, barely out of high school, loaded his pickup with bottled water and fuel, and drove back and forth on smoke-filled roads, helping elderly neighbours who had no transportation. He wasn’t a first responder or somebody trained in emergency aid. He was just someone who couldn’t bear the thought of people being left behind.

Other stories told of groups of volunteers in nearby communities who are turning their community centres, hockey rinks, and churches, into hubs for displaced families—setting up cots, offering food, and helping kids feel safe in the chaos. In many cases these weren’t people who had time. They had jobs, homes to secure, and families of their own to worry about. But they chose to act anyway.

Their actions raise the same question Jesus poses to the lawyer: who was the neighbor? The one who stopped. The one who showed mercy. Not because it was convenient. Not because there was a reward. But simply because someone was in need.

When we read the parable of the Good Samaritan, it’s easy to think we’d do the same. We’d stop and help. But the truth is, most of us live in a world that runs on tight schedules and full calendars. We’ve got meetings, appointments, kids to drive, deadlines to meet. We might see someone in need but feel we just don’t have the capacity to help. Or we don’t notice at all—because we’re moving too fast to see clearly.

The wildfire volunteers made me think about that. Like the Samaritan, they interrupted their lives for strangers. They didn’t just pause to hand someone a bottle of water—they stuck around. They drove people to shelters. They stayed up late comforting frightened children. They checked in the next day, and the next. Their response wasn’t a moment—it was a commitment.

Jesus’ parable is not only about compassion—it’s also about the willingness to be interrupted. The Samaritan doesn’t worry about the rules, or what’s appropriate, or what others will think. He sees need and he responds with his whole self.

And here’s the hard part: mercy is rarely convenient. Loving our neighbor, in real life, will often cost us something—time, energy, resources. But Jesus tells us, that’s the way to life.

Robert Funk, a New Testament scholar, once wrote of this parable: “The Samaritan does not love with side glances at God.” He doesn’t help as a performance or obligation. He helps the way God helps—completely, freely, and is fully present.

In a time when our country faces literal fires and metaphorical ones—climate change, economic stress, social division—what does it look like to love our neighbor? Perhaps it starts by slowing down enough to notice who needs us. Perhaps it means being willing to be interrupted. And perhaps, just like that young man in Garden Hill, it means turning around on the road and going back to where we’re most needed. Amen