My dad and I pulled up to the front gate of the Utah state prison. We were there to support one of the state inmates we’ve come to know over the last couple years. He has blessed our lives. Though we were the supposed “ministers,” he’s actually done much of the ministering.  Me, Dad, Jill, Bonnie, all of us have learned from him at different times as we’ve served at the jail. It was his first hearing before the parole board in 5 years.  The deputy stepped out of the guard shack and asked for our drivers licenses. After checking them he said, “have you been here before?” I hesitated for a second but then answered no. In reality I had been there before, at that very same gate on January 1st 2003, in the backseat of a prison van, shackled and handcuffed, sitting next to another terrified rookie convict. This time however, I wouldn’t have to sit chained to a cement bench waiting for hours alone wondering what my new home, A-West, would be like. I wouldn’t have to endure a strip search that included the instructions, “bend over and spread your cheeks.” I wouldn’t have to give up everything I had on me, including my contact lenses. I wouldn’t be wearing a red jumpsuit. This time I’d be able to walk in and sit for a couple hours with my dad and then walk right back out, in the same nice suit I came in. After the hearing we would stop on the way home for a burger and fries. Do you know what a blessing it is to just drive anywhere you want and eat whatever you feel like at that moment?  Leaving that place I was reminded again of the really simple things in life I take for granted. Things I longed for when I resided within the walls of Purgatory. 

           He entered the room as I thought he would. Dressed in his nicest prison whites. His wrists and ankles adorned with cuffs and chains. As he waddled in the room he didn’t pay much attention to the 4 nicely dressed men on the front row. Not that he didn’t want to say hi to us, but rather just following prison rules. They tell you where to look, who you can speak to and when you can speak. He’d get the chance at the end of the meeting to briefly turn and thank us for coming. In this room designed to seat maybe 30-40 people, there were 8.  A representative from the board who ran the meeting, 2 prison guards, the potential parolee and us 4 guys from Box Elder county. His first parole hearing in 5 years, no family, no friends, no supporters, nobody. Just 4 guys he met while doing his time in the county jail. If you wonder why these offenders can’t seem to stay on the right path when they get out, this is one big reason. Most of them have no positive support in their lives, none. 
            The meeting got started as the man in charge welcomed Derek in a refreshingly respectful way. The board rep continued this theme of treating him with a bit of human dignity throughout. It gave the 4 of us on the front row a little hope for a positive outcome. The next part of the hearing was hard. The details of his case and conviction by a jury were read aloud.  In the months/year’s getting to know him, none of us ever really knew the exact details of why he was locked up in the first place. We thought we had an idea, but honestly it never was our focus. We were all focused on the man we had come to know and in trying to help him succeed when he eventually walked out of this place. None of us expected to hear what we heard read from the bench. It was hard to hear. It didn’t match our experience with him. In fact it was 180 degrees off. For an instant I second guessed my support for him. Those thoughts were quickly dismissed and replaced with the understanding that he needed us to “walk with him.” 

          A lawyer once asked Jesus the question, “what shall I do to inherit eternal life?”  The answer is one I think all Christians are familiar with. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself. The lawyer then asked a follow up question thinking he could confuse the savior and those listening in. He asked, “Who is my neighbor?” Wouldn’t it have been nice if Jesus said, “well basically just the people in your circle of trust.” Or “pretty much just the people you identify with.”  Or, “everyone you can sort of stand spending at least 5 minutes with.” Or, “just the people who agree with your political and religious views.” Or, “just the folks who can help fatten your wallet and inflate your ego.” The answer Jesus gave was unexpected, and certainly ruffled some feathers with the lawyer and everyone else. He answered him with a story, a parable, the parable of the Good Samaritan.

          Recently in my studies I’ve learned more about this parable. It takes place on the road to Jericho from Jerusalem. This road is approximately 17 miles and steep, descending over 3,000 feet. I imagine that 2,000 years ago at the time of the telling of the story, it was a much harsher journey than it would be today. A lone traveler is assaulted and left on the side of the road. First a priest passes by the badly beaten body and quickly moves on. No compassion from the supposed “holy man” of that time. Next a Levite, a respected citizen of the day, passes on by and keeps plenty of distance between himself and the bloodied stranger on the side of the road. Finally, to the rescue, comes a Samaritan. There is nothing good about a Samaritan in the eyes of the Jews at this time. They weren’t suppose to have any contact with one another, so for Christ to use a Samaritan as an example of someone with compassion to a non Samaritan was quite a statement. This “Good Samaritan” gives in abundance, he is “consumed with compassion” and holds nothing back when it comes to caring for the broken man on the side of the road. After relating this story Jesus turns back to the lawyer and asks, “which of these 3 proved to be a neighbor to the wounded soul?” Somewhat humbled I imagine, the lawyer answered, “the one who showed him mercy.”  

         In my own life I’ve been bruised and beaten at times and found myself all alone on the side of my own “Jericho road.” Most times I was there as a result of my own poor decisions or sins. Plenty of people walked on by. Some never even noticed. Others voiced their support or concern and perhaps even offered a prayer in my behalf, but never stopped to give any real assistance. For some it probably felt like it was none of their business. Some just didn’t know what to do. A few seemed to find joy in my repeated stumbling, it was good for conversation amongst friends. The “samaritans” who stopped, lifted, encouraged and walked with me made all the difference. These difference makers saved my life. Many were people I never would have associated with before my journey down Jericho road. They treated me with compassion despite our innumerable differences. They truly treated me as a “neighbor” even though we weren’t anything close to being neighbors. 

        At the end of the board meeting we were all told that they would make their decision and mail it to him within 2 weeks. On October 9th he was paroled. Rather than head back home, he decided to parole to box elder county so he could be around people who shared his new found faith in Jesus Christ. With nothing to his name, he took a leap of faith and set out for something new. Thanks to some “Good Samaritans,” in Corinne, Utah he has a place to live. No rent, plenty of food and loads of love and support. He’s got a drivers license now and a good job at Nucor. He’s even learning his way around his very first smart phone. Another “Good Samaritan” kicked in and now he’s got a car to get him back and forth from home to work and church. Before the Nucor job he helped me out with my new fence. We spent a lot of time together putting in one post at a time. This guy can work, and he’s a perfectionist. I’d be ready to move on to the next post and he’d say, “hang on, this ones not good enough yet.” He kept my fence and me in line. One evening as I drove him home he said, “Do you know why I love working on your fence? Because I see how happy it makes you.” 

          We’ve installed close to a thousand feet of fence. Of all the holes we’ve drilled, only one has had rocks in it. As he pounded away with a pry bar at the rocks in the bottom of the hole he stopped and said, “This must be how the lord feels sometimes. Our hearts can be so hard, but he just keeps hammering away. I’m glad he never gave up on mine.” 

     As we spend more time together something becomes increasingly apparent to me. I’m suppose to be the “Good Samaritan” in this relationship. What’s happening is he’s actually blessing me and my family way more than us blessing him. Just by getting to know him, I’m beginning to feel that I’m again being cared for by a Samaritan on the side of Jericho road. One Sunday awhile back he offered the prayer on dinner. Some of my kids later shared with me their feelings about it. It made them all evaluate the way they pray. In essence they said they could feel that when he prayed it felt different, like he was really talking to God rather than just spitting out words. It left a lasting impression on all of us. The next day I received the following from my oldest son Tyson:

 Learning from Derek,

“We donʼt realize how lucky we are. Itʼs something that I remind myself of, but lately Iʼve been merely telling myself these words out of habit rather than  actually  feeling the emotion of gratitude tied to their meaning.

Recently, our family had the opportunity to witness a different route of life than the one weʼve been afforded. Derek a native from New Mexico and just out of the clink, spoke with us about his crash course and journey to find Christ through life. We had dinner with him and listened to his story of what ultimately  culminated in 6 years of prison time. The freshness of his experience could be felt merely by his presence, and his ache for a higher power to touch his life was genuine. 

                                                                                   
After dinner I got thinking about him on the way home and was almost envious of the frame of mind he was in. His baseline at that moment was prison, and anything beyond that baseline is a blessing. 

We have unimaginable fortune at our fingertips every single day. We are so accustomed to this way of life and are rarely given the chance to expose ourselves to the reality of other, not so good, circumstances.

I sometimes feel that we can be overexposed and desensitized. Our materialistic things and abundant  familial relationships can water down what it means to be truly grateful and limit ones perspective to a narrow field.

This is why I loved my time in Vegas. Down there no matter where you live, who you associate with, or how much money you make, you still pass the homeless guy living out of a cart in  115 degree weather daily. The constant reminders of “it could be worse” were frequently part of my life and the face of my fortune staring back at me in the mirror was never far away.

Itʼs interesting how life works because in a materialistic sense, I had much less in Vegas than I do now. However, looking back, I realize I had so much more. In Vegas, I experienced humility and gratitude more frequently, almost by default. My baseline was a little different at that time. This is why I envy Derek.  Because at this very moment in his life, heʼs experiencing gratitude by default.

Love, and live like Derek. Establish your baseline. Be grateful by default:

We win the lottery everyday we wake up and get to experience our days in ignorant bliss. Our challenge is and always will be adjusting our baseline to observe and attack our days from the right perspective.”

         Though they’re out there everywhere, if I’m honest, I still find myself picking and choosing to whom I will render meaningful service. My pride sometimes gets in the way. For me, serving those who I feel empathy for is the easiest. Ex cons, drug addicts, the homeless, scumbags, whatever you want to call them, I can relate to them and their feelings of  hopelessness so it’s easy to want to help. 

          But what about the guy who I’ve thought is a total Asshole?  What about the kids who I feel haven’t treated my kids with respect? What about the perceived self righteous folks? What about the patient who stiffs me and doesn’t pay their bill?  What about the guy who almost runs me over when I’m running on the side of the road?  To all of these “whatabouts” I’m often anything but, a “Good Samaritan.” In reality I can go from “Samaritan mode” to “Asshole mode” in world record time on these people. Serving those I don’t like being around is my challenge. Bearing the burdens of those we understand is not so great a challenge. Bearing the burdens of those we don’t understand or even like to be around is to me, one of the truest tests of our Christianity. 

              Derek, Thank you. Thanks for being my friend. Thanks for teaching my family. Thanks for inspiring me to write and truly evaluate my level of samaritanship. I’ve got a long way to go. I love you my brother.