Room in the Inn
What the Parable of the Good Samaritan taught me about my role in the Plan of Salvation
Hello dears! Happy beginning of the semester to those who celebrate. At first glance, this week’s poem may seem like a Christmas poem, but do not be deceived!!! It was inspired by Elder Gong’s talk "Room in the Inn" from the April 2021 conference.
Read it I dare you. It’s a slay.
The parable of the Good Samaritan is beautifully diverse and adaptable - I’ve seen it interpreted in many different ways and have learned incredible lessons from each interpretation. In Elder Gong’s talk he compares the parable with the plan of salvation, citing this article by John W. Welch, an incredible scholar and editor-in-chief of BYU Studies. He also is a law professor here at BYU I believe??? The moral of this particular tangent is that you should also read the Ensign article. Great stuff. Message me individually if you want the whole 67-page BYU studies article.
Anyway, I was deeply moved by the talk, so naturally I wrote a poem about it. It’s a sweetie little dual storyline and emphasizes our roles as the innkeeper in this particular interpretation. Enjoy.
A lone traveler looks out over a long, dusty road, anxious about the perilous journey ahead.
In another time and another place, a husband and wife hold hands at the edge of a garden, terrified at the barren world before them.Both the traveler and the pair take one last shaky breath, and with trepidations determination, they take the first step down.
The Jew to Jericho, and Adam and Eve to a dark and fallen world.Trepidatious determination quickly turns to terror as robbers and thorns and sickness and despair and injustice overwhelm these desperate pilgrims.
The journey is too difficult.
The danger is too great.
The decisions made were reckless and now are worthless.In two different places and two different times, these three travelers lay broken and defeated, accepting the fact that they will never return home.
Until
A stranger approaches, kindness in His eyes and healing in His hands.
He binds up their wounds, seen and unseen, and brings them to an inn, trusting the innkeeper to nurture them until He returns.I can relate to these travelers.
Broken. Defeated. Hopeless.
But today, I'm going to imagine I am the innkeeper.I open my door late one night, surprised to see the Savior on my doorstep with a wounded traveler in His arms.
He looks at me with those kind eyes and asks me to care for her in His absence.I have cleverly hidden some of my own wounds and they throb as I consider the cost of such a responsibility, yet my immediate reply is a reverent "Of course, Lord.”
Day after day, the work is tireless as I fight to keep my new friend alive.
We cry together, laugh together, and pray together.
She starts to improve, little by little, and a beautiful friendship blooms.The Savior returns, and I smile from the doorway as my friend runs to Him and falls into His embrace, thanking her Lord for His compassion.
As I watch the scene with tears beginning to pool in my eyes, I notice that my wounds, the ones I had carefully tucked into the deepest corners of my soul, are no longer aching.
I am whole.You, my friend, are Christ's innkeeper.
Maybe you have wounds you've never shown to anyone.
But remember another time. another place.
A lone man, kneeling in a garden.
In His lowest moment, the Savior himself felt broken and defeated.From the depths of His own suffering, His hand reaches through eternity to all places and all times, touching the Jew, touching Adam and Eve, and touching you and me.
A hand proudly bearing its own wound.
Take care of those He brings to you.
Help them return home.
Then, when it is your turn to fall into the Savior's embrace, you will find yourself healed as well.
I love you all so sweetly! Find someone to take care of this week, no matter how busy you think you are. I promise you won’t regret it.
xoxo live laugh love.
Anj