Who is the Good Samaritan?

And.. what must I do to be saved?

A scholar of the Law approached Jesus and asked:

“What must I do to be saved?”

It was a relevant, pertinent question. The seventy-two disciples had just returned from proclaiming the message of salvation, and Jesus rejoiced that their names were written in heaven. Jesus certainly seemed to be saying that they were saved. It was a good and well-timed question. Salvation was the topic on the table.

The Many Ways Jesus Answers the Question

Now, Jesus answered that question many different ways during his earthly ministry:

• To the rich young ruler: “You know the commandments… One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor… and come, follow Me.”

• To Nicodemus: “Unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God… Whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

• To the crowd: “This is the work of God: that you believe in Him whom He has sent.”

• To Zacchaeus: “Today salvation has come to this house… For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.”

But when the lawyer asks, Jesus responds with a question of his own:

“What is written in the Law? How do you read it?”

The scholar replies with The Great Summary of the Law, drawn from Deuteronomy and Leviticus:

“‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind, and your neighbor as yourself.’”

Then, Jesus affirms him: “You have answered correctly. Do this, and you will live.”

But… is this so?

The Apostle Paul makes it clear:

“Therefore no one will be declared righteous in God’s sight by the works of the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of our sin” (Rom. 3:20).

Paul writes that far from saving us, the Law shows us just how sinful we are, just how much we cannot measure up.

The Threefold Use of the Law

The Reformed tradition, thanks to John Calvin and his Institutes of the Christian Religion, articulates a threefold use of the Law. Ligonier in their article, “The Threefold Use of the Law” puts it this way:

The first purpose of the law is to be a mirror. On the one hand, the law of God reflects and mirrors the perfect righteousness of God. The law tells us much about who God is. Perhaps more important, the law illumines human sinfulness.

A second purpose for the law is the restraint of evil. The law, in and of itself, cannot change human hearts. It can, however, serve to protect the righteous from the unjust.

The third purpose of the law is to reveal what is pleasing to God. As born again children of God, the law enlightens us as to what is pleasing to our Father, whom we seek to serve.

In this moment, Jesus is using the first function. He holds up the mirror:

You want to be justified by what you do? Then go ahead—do this. Love God with all your being. Love your neighbor as yourself. Perfectly. Perpetually. Without fail.

And of course, the lawyer, like all of us, can’t.

The impossibility of this task is well understood by Christians across all of historic Christianity. For example, Timothy Keller’s New City Catechism combines elements from several historical Protestant catechisms, including Calvin's Geneva Catechism, the Westminster Shorter and Larger Catechisms, and the Heidelberg Catechism. Let’s take a took at how various ancient Christians understood the Law and Obedience by considering questions 7 and 13:

Q7. What does the Law of God require?

A7. The Law requires personal, perfect, and perpetual obedience; that we love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength; and love our neighbor as ourselves. What God forbids should never be done and what God commands should always be done.

Q13. Can anyone keep the law of God perfectly?

A13. Since the Fall, no mere human has been able to keep the law of God perfectly, but consistently breaks it in thought, word, and deed.

So what is Jesus doing here with this man of the Law? The man wants to know how to inherit eternal life and Jesus answers: do the Law.

Why doesn’t Jesus respond to him the way he did to Nicodemus, Zaccheus, or the crowd? With straightforward truth? Or why doesn’t Jesus jump straight into the parable? I don’t know. But what I do know is that eternal life (which is the question on the table) is to believe in Jesus, and be born again— that is, to be sought and saved by him, not by merit of our own “good” works.

So what will He do with this legal scholar?

Let’s see.

The man, eager to justify himself, pushes the question further. The word Luke uses suggests he wants to validate his own righteousness. Perhaps he feels the sting in Jesus’ reply. Perhaps he senses the impossibility of what he’s just affirmed.

I wonder if perhaps he saw Jesus reaching out to and being rejected by the Samaritans earlier in the story. Perhaps the scholar had to acknowledge that Jesus seemed to have been pursuing that people group, that is those outside of Israel.

“Why would this teacher pursue Samaritans? Am I supposed to be friendly with Samaritans, too?” he may have wondered.

So he asks:

“And who is my neighbor?”

He’s hoping, perhaps, that there are limits. Hoping that if he can define the terms narrowly enough, he might actually be able to pull this thing (a morally upright life) off on his own.

A Parable

But Jesus doesn’t answer the question directly. As he was prone to do, he told a story. And why did he tell stories? He told stories to reveal the secrets of the Kingdom of God to His disciples but conceal them from those who refused to see or understand¹.

What I mean is, Jesus intentionally shrouds the gospel in story.

Let’s take a look at the Good Samaritan parable:

A man is robbed and beaten, left half-dead on the side of the road. A priest sees him and passes by. A Levite does the same. But then, a Samaritan— a half-breed, a religious and social outcast — sees the man, has compassion, and saves him. A total act of grace and mercy.

And not just minimally. Lavishly.

He poured out, no doubt, costly oil and wine, essentially onto the ground in an effort to clean and disinfect the man’s wounds. He bandages the injuries. He places him on his own animal. He pays two days’ wages, which is enough for two months of lodging. And then, unbelievably, he says to the innkeeper: “I am going away but when I come back, I’ll repay you for whatever else you spend.” An open tab. No budget. Who can afford that?

And if that’s what we need to enter into the Kingdom of God, then how could we ever possibly do that? Perfectly? Perpetually?

Anna Brotherson

, in her article “Do Not Be a Good Samaritan,” makes this arresting observation:

“It’s way too much. Of course it’s too much! Jesus knows it’s too much. This story is akin to, ‘Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.’ You want to do the law? Then you have to do it all, perfectly, all the time… So please—do not be the Good Samaritan. Do not read this story and think, ‘I must go and do likewise.’ Yes, you must—if you are planning to enter eternal life based on what you have done.”

The lawyer asked, “What must I do?” And Jesus answers him according to the lawyer’s own premise: If you want to earn eternal life by works of the Law, then this is the standard:

“Do this, and you will live.”

The Samaritan as Christ

But there’s another reading of the story: What if Jesus isn’t giving a moral example to imitate, but a revelation of Himself? What if he’s sharing the gospel?

• The Samaritan is Christ. He comes to the helpless and half-dead. He sees us. He has compassion. He binds our wounds. He covers the cost. He promises to return.

• The wounded man is humanity. Left for dead by sin, unable to rise, dependent on mercy, in need of a saviour.

• The inn is the Church. Jesus leaves the wounded to be cared for by his people until he returns again.

In this interpretation—one embraced by many Puritan preachers² and early Church Fathers³ —Jesus is not saying, “Be this man, the Samaritan.”

Instead, Jesus is saying, “I am this man. I am the Greater Neighbor. I am the Samaritan. I have done for you what you could never do for yourself.”

And when He says, “Go and do likewise,” He is commissioning those who have been rescued by grace and faith to join Him in His rescue mission. It’s not a call to justify yourself. It’s a call to participate in the rescue, once you’ve been rescued:

“Go. Go into all nations. Share with them the one message that can save them. The devil prowls like a roaring lion seeking whom he will devour— rescue them! Tell them the good news of the kingdom of heaven and if they believe, they will be saved! I am seeking the spiritually lost and hurting. You, go and do likewise.”

And just in case we miss the point, Luke gives us a final contrast.

Immediately after this parable, Jesus enters the home of Mary and Martha. Martha is busy with good things—serving, working, doing— while Mary is sitting at the feet of Jesus. And Jesus says,

“One thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion.”

Jesus Himself is the One Necessary Thing.

We must remember. The question was: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

And the answer is:

You must rescued by the Rescuer. You must sit at His feet. You must be saved by Him. Jesus is the One Necessary Thing.

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Postscript: The Wrong Question

If your child came to you and said, “I know you’ll only love me if I wash the windows—so which ones? The house windows? The car windows? Both?”

Are you going to tell him which windows to wash or are you going to tell him that your love is unconditional?

That’s what Jesus is saying to the lawyer. He is not answering the man’s question; He is reframing it entirely.

The scholar asks: “What must I do to be saved?”
Jesus answers, in parable: You must be saved by Me.

But the lawyer walks away heavier than before. Because he wanted to be the Rescuer, not the Rescued.

Yet for those who are rescued—for those who know their need and have received the compassion of Christ—the call remains:

“Go and do likewise.”

Not to earn eternal life. Not because we have a new checklist.

But because you’ve been given a new identity and a new mission:

Preach the gospel. Shepherd the sheep. Seek out the lost. Do so in a manner worthy of the gospel: slander no one, be peaceable and considerate, and always be gentle toward everyone (Titus 3:2).

Do good to all—especially the church (Gal. 6:10).

1. Matthew 13:10–17, Mark 4:10–12, Luke 8:9–10

2. Thomas Watson, John Flavel, Richard Sibbes, Thomas Boston and Matthew Henry, to name a few

3. Irenaeus, Ambrose of Milan, Augustine of Hippo, and Gregory the Great