The Troubles of Others

The inclination to see everything in terms of our own present situation is demonstrated in many ways. When we are warm, it is relatively difficult to remember the bitter penetration of cold. When we are well-fed, it is difficult to keep alive the acute sensation of hunger. When we are prosperous and comfortable, when we are in the sheltered circle of our families or in the congenial company of our friends, when Providence smiles upon us, we are sometimes lulled into the falsely comforting thought that we shall never be as other men, that we shall never know their sorrows or their loneliness or their want. We are aware of our own troubles, of course, which we all have; but it is so easy to feel an immunity to the troubles of others. But “the mills of the gods grind slowly and exceedingly fine.” Fortune and circumstances change. By events which we never could have foreseen, we sometimes find that we ourselves are the ones who are in need of comfort or of help or of sustenance, and except for the ministrations of others, perhaps we would never survive. Perhaps, at least, our faith in men would not survive. And so, partly in anticipation of a possible time when we might be the ones who have some urgent need, but more especially out of consideration for our obligations to all men whether we shall ever be in need or not, we would do well to keep before our thoughts that “pure religion and undefiled”6 of which James spoke, for always there are many widows and fatherless. Always there are many sons away from home. Always there are crying needs on every hand for comfort, for kindliness, for encouragement, as well as for material aid. And the pattern of action for all such times has been given us by Him who told of a certain Samaritan for whom it was enough to know only that here was a man in need.