The Impossible Command and the Savior Who Filled It

Jesus was doing His normal preaching, and one day a man stood up in the crowd.  Not just a normal man with a question, but a man with an evil intent to trip up Jesus.  This man was a lawyer.  Not a courtroom lawyer, but someone who knew the Law.  They were proficient in it, especially the laws in Leviticus.  They knew the law better than anyone.  But this lawyer didn’t stand to honor Jesus; he was trying to test him.  Who else in the Bible do we know who has tested Jesus? Satan.  That’s right.  Gaslighting. (as so many people today do).

He asked, “Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?”
Immediately, you can see the problem.  I is the problem.  And “Inherit”? You can’t INHERIT eternal life.  It’s not an heirloom to pass down through the generations or a reward for good behavior.  It is a gift.  One Jesus gives, not something we can earn by any means (Ephesians 2:8-9, Romans 6:23, Titus 3:5, Romans 3:20). And calling Jesus “Master” wasn’t sincere.  You don’t need a MASTER to get to Heaven.  You need a Savior. 
The Lawyer answers by quoting scripture (as did Satan when he tempted Jesus) and just the parts that made him look good.  Love God with everything you are, love your neighbor as yourself. 

Jesus replied and said, “You’ve answered right. Do THIS, and you will live.” Simple right? No.  If the lawyer wanted to earn eternal life, he would need to do this ONE thing perfectly. Every day, every thought, every dream, every intention, every waking hour. He would have to do this with no imperfections, no mistakes.  This is absolutely impossible.  And the lawyer didn’t even mention the other 611 laws he would have to follow in the exact same way.  Only Jesus did that.  The lawyer saw the hole he had dug himself and tried to find a loophole.  He tries again, “Who is my neighbor?” Basically, let me redefine this so I can still feel good.
And instead of giving a direct answer, Jesus does what He did best.  He tells a story.

Jesus describes a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. Anyone listening to this would have immediately known the road he was talking about.  It was a dangerous, winding trail through a mountain pass that had massive rocks.  It was known as “The Bloody Way.” Robbers hid behind boulders waiting for travelers.  It was a very dangerous place.
Sure enough, this man was attacked.  They beat him until he was almost dead, took his clothes (leaving him naked and humiliated), and left him. 

A priest eventually passed by. You’d expect him to care, right? He was in the top of the class, was taught righteousness, and was supposed to be a good person, right? But the priest saw this man lying in the middle of the road,  wounded and unconscious.  He literally stepped around him and kept walking.  Didn’t even question his actions. 

Then a Levite came.  A man who served in the temple was middle-class.  He looked and passed on the other side.  Again, didn’t even think about his actions.  Didn’t follow the law and help him out.
Both of these men knew the law all the way around.  They studied it and had to know it for their work.  They knew EXACTLY what God required. Love your neighbor. But knowledge doesn’t equal compassion.
And then came a Samaritan.  This man’s identity was despised by both the Jews and the Gentiles.  This man was totally isolated outside of his community.  He stayed far away from the territory of the Jews and Gentiles.  But then he saw the traveler.  And felt Compassion.  The Bible is very clear about this.  Not obligation, not reluctance, not disgust, but compassion. 
He helped the man and cleaned his wounds.  He poured oil and wine over them.  There’s something to say with the specific order of this. Typically, you would use wine to clean the wound and the oil to soothe. But the traveler's wounds were so bad, the Samaritan did oil FIRST and then wine.  He had to use his own clothes to make bandages because he didn't travel with them.  He put the man, still unconscious, on his animal and walked him to Jericho.  (A place he would have normally avoided because he wasn’t welcomed there).
At the inn, he paid two denarii, which is about two weeks’ wages.  To make sure the man got care, food, and treatment.  Everything he needed. And then he said, “Take care of him, and whatever more costs are incurred, when I return, I will pay you.” Basically, don’t charge this man for anything.  

This was love.  This was sacrifice. 

When Jesus finished this parable, He said to the lawyer, “Of these three, who proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell among the thieves?”
The lawyer couldn’t even say the Samaritan. He said, “The one who showed mercy.”
Jesus said, “God and do likewise.”
And that’s where this whole story comes to a head.  Jesus wasn’t teaching salvation through works.  He wasn’t saying, “Do this to earn eternal life.”
He was showing what we can’t.  We CAN’T do these things perfectly.  Not constantly.  Not the way the Law demands. 

If even ONE command said “Love your neighbor” is impossible to fulfill on our own, imagine how hard the other 611 Jews were expected to follow.
Jesus was making it clear: You can’t save yourself, the law can’t save you, your effort won’t save you, your works can’t save you. Only Jesus can save you. 

We’re called to turn away from empty traditions (what the Law preaches) and stop trying to earn something that has already been purchased with His ultimate Sacrifice (1 Timothy 1:4, 1 Peter 1:18-19).

The Good Samaritan wasn’t just a story about kindness.  It was a picture of Jesus Himself. The One who found US broken on the side of the road, healed us when we couldn’t help ourselves, paid the debt we owed, and promised to come again. 

The Lawyer came to trap Jesus, but Jesus came to SET HIM FREE.  And that’s still true today.  We come with our questions, our loopholes, our attempts to justify ourselves. Jesus answers with truth that cuts through every excuse: You can’t earn eternal life. You can only receive it.

The impossible command drives us to the only One who ever fulfilled it.
And the story ends where the gospel always begins:
With Jesus, doing for us what we could never do for ourselves.