Your Jericho Road
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“Your Jericho Road,” Tambuli, Sept. 1989, 2

First Presidency Message

Your Jericho Road

We travel many different roads in this life, and some are harder to walk than others. But there is one road we all “walk” at various times in our lives. It is a road made famous by a parable that Jesus told. I refer to the road to Jericho.

You remember the story the Savior told when the lawyer tried to tempt him by asking “What shall I do to inherit eternal life?”

“He said unto him, What is written in the law? how readest thou?

“And he answering said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself.

“And he said unto him, Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live.

“But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who is my neighbour?

“And Jesus answering said, A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead.

“And by chance there came down a certain priest that way: and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.

“And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side.

“But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him,

“And went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him.

“And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee.

“Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves?

“And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise.” (Luke 10:25–37.)

What will be your experience on the Jericho Road? What will be mine? Will I fail to notice him who has fallen among thieves and requires my help?

Will you?

Will I be one who sees the injured and hears his plea, yet crosses to the other side?

Will you?

Or will I be one who sees, who hears, who pauses, and who helps?

Will you?

Jesus provided our watchword: “Go, and do thou likewise.” When we obey that declaration, we receive opportunities for joy seldom equaled and never surpassed.

Now the Jericho Road may not be clearly marked. Neither may the injured cry out, that we may hear. But when we walk in the steps of that good Samaritan, we walk the pathway that leads to perfection.

Note the many examples provided by the Master: the crippled man at the pool of Bethesda; the woman taken in adultery; the woman at Jacob’s well; the daughter of Jairus; Lazarus, brother of Mary and Martha—each represented a casualty on the Jericho Road. Each needed help.

To the cripple at Bethesda, Jesus said: “Rise, take up thy bed, and walk” (John 5:8). To the sinful woman came the counsel, “Go, and sin no more” (John 8:11). To her who came to draw water, He provided a “well of water springing up into everlasting life” (John 4:14). To the dead daughter of Jairus came the command, “Damsel, I say unto thee, arise” (Mark 5:41). To the entombed Lazarus, the memorable words, “Lazarus, come forth” (John 11:43).

One may well ask the penetrating question: These stories are of the Redeemer of the world. Can there actually occur in my own life, on my Jericho Road, such a rich and wonderful experience?

My answer is a resounding yes. Let me share with you two such examples—first, the account of one who was injured and was helped; and second, the learning experience of one who traveled the Jericho Road.

Some years ago one of the kindest and most loved men to live on the earth died. I speak of Louis C. Jacobsen. He ministered to those in need, he helped the immigrant to find employment, and he delivered more sermons at more funeral services than any other person I have known.

One day while in a reflective mood, Louis Jacobsen told me of his boyhood. He was the son of a poor Danish widow. He was small in stature, not particularly handsome—easily the object of his classmates’ thoughtless jokes. In Sunday School one Sabbath morning, the children made fun of his patched trousers and his worn shirt. Too proud to cry, tiny Louis ran from the chapel, stopping at last, out of breath, to sit and rest on the curb that ran along one of the main streets of Salt Lake City. Clear water flowed along the gutter next to the curb where Louis sat. From his pocket he took a piece of paper that contained the outlined Sunday School lesson and skillfully shaped a paper boat, which he launched on the flowing water. From his hurt boyish heart came the determined words, “I’ll never go back.”

Suddenly, through his tears Louis saw reflected in the water the image of a large and well-dressed man. Louis turned his face upward and recognized George Burbidge, the Sunday School superintendent. “May I sit down with you?” asked the kind leader. Louis nodded affirmatively. There on the curb sat a good Samaritan ministering to one who surely was in need. Several paper boats were made and launched while the conversation continued. At last the leader stood and, with a boy’s hand tightly clutching his, they returned to Sunday School. Later Louis himself presided over that same Sunday School. Throughout his long life of service, he never failed to acknowledge the traveler who rescued him along a Jericho Road.

My second example comes from my own experience along my own Jericho Road. In about my tenth year, as Christmas approached, I yearned as only a boy can yearn for an electric toy train. I didn’t want the less expensive wind-up model train; rather, I wanted one that operated through the miracle of electricity. Economically, those years were very difficult, yet Mother and Dad, through some sacrifice, I am sure, presented to me on Christmas morning a beautiful electric train.

For hours I ran the train, watching the engine first pull its rail cars forward, then push them backward around the track. Mother entered the living room and said to me that she had purchased a wind-up train for Mrs. Hansen’s son Mark, who lived down the lane. I asked if I could see the train. The engine was short and blocky—not long and sleek like the expensive model I had received. However, I did take notice of an oil tanker car that was part of his inexpensive set. My train had no such car, and I began to feel pangs of envy. I put up such a fuss that Mother finally gave in to my pleadings and handed me the oil tanker car. She said, “If you need it more than Mark, you take it.” I put it with my train set and felt pleased with the result.

Mother and I took the remaining cars and the engine down to Mark Hansen, who was a year or two older than I. He had never anticipated such a gift and was thrilled beyond words. He wound the key in his engine, and was overjoyed as it pulled the little train around the track. Mother wisely asked, “What do you think of Mark’s train, Tommy?” I felt a keen sense of guilt and became very much aware of my selfishness. I said to Mother, “Wait just a moment—I’ll be right back.”

As swiftly as my legs could carry me, I ran to our home, picked up the oil tanker car, plus an additional car of my own, ran back down the lane to the Hansen home, and said joyfully to Mark, “We forgot to bring two cars that belong to your train.” Mark coupled the two extra cars to his train. I watched the engine make its labored way around the track and felt a supreme joy difficult to describe and impossible to forget.

Some remember Mother for the little poems she would make up and recite, others for the music she played, songs sung, favors given, or stories told; but I remember best that day we together traveled homeward along our Jericho Road and, like the good Samaritan, found a cherished opportunity to help.

Brothers and sisters, today there are hearts to gladden, there are good deeds to be done—even precious souls to save. The sick, the weary, the hungry, the cold, the injured, the lonely, the aged, the wanderer, all cry out for our help.

The signs along the road of life enticingly invite every traveler: this way to fame; this way to riches; this way to popularity; this way to luxury. May we pause at the crossroads before we continue our journey. May we listen for that still, small voice which ever so gently beckons, “Come, follow me. This way to Jericho.” Then may each of us follow Him along that Jericho Road which leads to life eternal.

Ideas for Home Teachers

Some Points of Emphasis. You may wish to make these points in your home teaching discussion:

  1. The Lord’s parable of the good Samaritan points the way that leads to life eternal.

  2. In that parable, the good Samaritan had compassion on one in need, went to him, bound up his wounds, brought him in, and took care of him—all at his own expense.

  3. Each of us travels our own Jericho Road. Will we fail to notice the injured and hear his or her plea?

  4. There are hearts to gladden, deeds to be done, souls to save. The sick, the weary, the hungry, the cold, the injured, the lonely, the aged, the wanderer all cry out for help.

Discussion Helps

  1. Relate your feelings about helping people around us who are in need. Ask family members to share their feelings.

  2. Are there some scriptures or quotations in this article that the family might read aloud and discuss?

  3. Would this discussion be better after talking with the head of the household before the visit? Is there a message from the bishop or quorum leader?

Illustrated by James Tissot

“Christ and the Samaritan Woman,” by Carl Heinrich Bloch. Original at the chapel of the Frederiksborg Castle, Denmark. Used by permission of the Frederiksborgmuseum.

Illustrated by Gary E. Smith

Illustrated by Del Parson

Photography by Welden Andersen