Sixth Sunday of Easter

The trucker swung down the exit ramp and braked at the stop  sign. The interchange was empty—no gas station, no house lights,  nothing but darkness. My hitchhiker’s instincts kicked in. This was  not good. 

“Where are you going?” I glared at him from the passenger seat. He hungrily eyed me, an eighteen-year-old female. Then he  grunted “You got a knife?” 

I didn’t. But I growled as gruffly as I could, “Yeah, you bet.” “Get out then!” 

I jumped down to the gravel into the bitter winter. By the time I  had hiked halfway up the ramp toward the interstate, he had turned  his semi around and roared past me, back onto the highway. He  hadn’t been going anywhere but after me. I shook from much more  than the cold. 

I held out my thumb by the side of the interstate, in a silent plea  for a ride. Nobody stopped. The wind blew through my thin jacket.  The tear ducts in my eyes began to freeze. My mind grew muddled on  that dark plain of North Dakota in the middle of January. I stopped  shaking and thought, “I’ll just lie down here.” The only other thing  in my head was, “Oh, Someone . . . help.” 

An ancient Oldsmobile pulled over. The back door opened. A  grandma slid a three-year-old onto her lap to make space for me.  “¡Hace frío!” she exclaimed. She held up a piece of her blanket and  covered my legs with its warmth. “Sorry, heater no work,” the dad  said as he shifted into gear. As we drove, I began to thaw with the  five warm bodies huddled together in the back seat. 

“Where you going?” the dad asked. “Michigan,” I said. He shook  his head. They were going to Fargo. “I take you to bus. No more  hitchhike,” he said. I couldn’t have agreed more.

Consider/Discuss 

• Dozens of warm cars and trucks had no space for me that night many  years ago. But if you are one of the (now grown up) members of that  Mexican family who squeezed together in the back seat of your unheated  car to make room for me, I have always wanted to thank you. You saved  my life. And in the warmth of your family for those many miles, you  surrounded me with what love looks like. For those of you who are not a  member of that family, is there someone who has rescued you in a moment  of need whom you too have always wanted to thank? 
• Whether it is by our own foolishness or from the malice of another,  sometimes life drops us by the side of the road. Yet there is one who  knows our predicament and picks us up. In this season of the warmth of  the Resurrection, we believe that Jesus is our Rescuer, our Redeemer, and  our Savior. How has God lifted the blanket to make space for us, to let us  in, even when we have been headed for ruin? 

Living and Praying with the Word 

Jesus, you ask us to love as you love, giving ourselves for others.  Love is not a warm mushy feeling, but a willingness to work for  the good of the other. Thank you for those who have laid down  their lives for us. Thank you for the fruit they have borne, fruit that  has transformed us. Your compassion sometimes works through  unlikely people, unseen people, big-hearted people who give without  counting the cost. Bless all of your friends who imitate you. Grant  them great joy in their lives of generosity.