The Sunday Sermonette – A Stranger’s Kindness.
To paraphrase the Bard, “February is the winter of my discontent.” It’s my birthday month—another year older. Then there’s Valentine’s Day—nothing special there. And lastly, it’s the month of Mother’s passing. So, you can imagine my joy when dear friends invited me to cruise with them aboard Royal Caribbean’s Brilliance of the Seas in February of this year.
The Brilliance was a delight! Filled with art and murals in the style of the British Raj, her sparkling swimming pools, spacious dining room, world-class dining, and stellar entertainment were all that I could have desired. There was also a dance floor and a twelve-story atrium that soared above it. Many an evening, I danced the night away.
One day, while watching an aerobics class from one of the atrium’s balconies, I spotted someone who would eventually touch my heart. She was alone, no one having much to do with her. I saw her again, walking along the promenade deck, alone. Then I saw her on the dance floor, dancing alone.
Even though we were strangers, I asked her if she would like to dance. She smiled and nodded her head, yes. We slowly swayed back and forth in time to the music. She continued to smile, saying nothing. When the music ended, she extended two stiff, pudgy arms. “She wants to hug you,” someone said. She did.
Then came words that I’ll never forget: “You nice. Nobody ever dance with me but Daddy.” I thanked her and left the dance floor, tears crouching in the corners of my eyes. Later, I told my friends, “Down-syndrome people are so sweet, so kind”. We may have been strangers that night, but the young lady reassured me that kindness—rare and dying—is still one of Christianity’s greatest virtues.
In the Good Book, there’s a story about two strangers meeting at a well. One, an outcast woman, had come to fetch water. The other, a man, a very special man, came to extend kindness and redemption. Why was the woman an outcast? Because of her race and her many divorces. She was also currently living with a man. The other people in her village often made slurs about her race and badmouthed her lifestyle.
Consequently, the woman was taken aback when the stranger did speak to her. When he asked for a cool drink of water, the woman was shocked. Thinking he might be a relative of the villagers, and knowing their feelings about her, she asked him if he knew who she was and what she was. The stranger’s unexpected kindness left her intrigued.
“Yes, I do know who you are and what you are.” He smiled again. His words stunned the woman; she was almost speechless. No one in the village had ever been this kind to her. “Sir, you…you…have no dipper and the well is deep,” she said. “Is that why you asked me for a drink?” The stranger smiled yet again.
“No. I need no dipper, because I’m offering you another kind of water…” he said. “New water? There’s no such thing…” The woman’s voice trailed off, her disbelief mingling with a sudden spark of curiosity. “Ah! But there is,” the stranger said. “And anyone who drinks the water that only I can give will never thirst again. My water leads to eternal life.”
A look of awe and reverence dawned on the woman’s face. “Sir, I perceive that you are a prophet. Could you be the Messiah that our forefathers told us about? If so, please let me drink of this water and never thirst again.”
The kind stranger at the well was Jesus Christ. And the water He spoke of is the salvation that He brings to all who believe in Him. But, there’s another truth in this story. Jesus broke social and religious barriers by speaking to this woman.
She was a Samaritan whom the Jews hated with a passion. Their hate, and the weight of her guilt and shame over her lifestyle, must have been great. Still, it was Jesus’ love and kindness for this shunned and guilt-ridden woman that convinced her He was the Messiah, the Savior of the World. It changed her life forever. Has yours been changed?
Ponder this and go forth.