Short Stories

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The Good Samaritan’s Path of Spiritual Gifts Part II: The Gift of Discernment

After Stan had carried Joe on his donkey for a while, he heard a strange beeping noise. He scratched his head. It seemed to him he’d heard that sound before. The noise woke Joe up. He sighed.

“Oh, woe is me,” he moaned. “I’m such a failure. When will I ever stop messing up?”

“We all mess up,” said Stan. “But God is gracious. He forgives our sins, no matter what they are. You just need to accept that.”

“How do I accept it,” asked Joe, “when I feel so worthless?”

“By faith,” said Stan. “It’s that simple. Just accept it by faith. Without faith it’s impossible to please God.”

The strange beeping noise grew louder.

“I have no faith,” moaned Joe. “I’m a failure - a failure!”

“No, you’re not,” replied Stan. “You’re just a nut case, and there’s plenty of those to go around. Care for a Love Peace Joy bar?”

“No, thanks,” Joe complained. “I don’t deserve it. I’m a loser! That’s what everyone says!”

“Not me,” replied Stan with a spark of anger in his voice. “I don’t think that.”

“Well, everyone else does,” grumbled Joe. “Before you came along, Priest High-minded walked by, followed by some other holy man. They were wearing shirts that said, ‘We help anybody in need, even the hopeless.’ Those guys took one look at me and said I wasn’t worth helping. They called me a nobody, Stan! A nobody! And that’s what I am. Nobody loves me, nobody cares, nobody lifts a finger to help me when I’m down.”

Stan’s ears were burning. “So what does that make me?” he asked. “Chopped liver?”

“Might have known I’d make you blow your stack,” sighed Joe. “You’re probably so disgusted with me, you’ll forget all about taking me to the inn and dump me off at the first crack house you can find. Why come to the rescue of a loser like me?”

This last remark really sparked Stan’s ire. “This has gone far enough!” he exclaimed, and abruptly stopped his donkey.

“I knew it,” said Joe. “You hate me. Don’t you? Everyone always says…”

“Would you be quiet for just one moment?” said Stan. “Now stay right there and don’t go running off.”

“As if I had the energy for it,” moaned Joe. Ignoring the melancholy statement, Stan dismounted from the donkey, removed a flashlight from his saddle bag, and pulled Joe’s shirt up. With the light he carefully examined his friend’s back.

“Whoa! I’ve never seen anything like this!” he exclaimed.

“I know,” agreed Joe. “That mole changes color all the time. My doctor says it needs to be removed because it’s cancerous. Even then he said I only had a thirty percent chance of survival. With such slim chances, I figured I might as well party hearty while I still had the time. But now I’m thinking that the cancer must have caught up with me. God has smitten me with this dreadful mole as punishment for all my evil deeds. Oh, the pain!”

Stan shook his head and laughed. “No, he didn’t.”

“He didn’t?” asked Joe, stunned at Stan's bold statement. “Then why…? I don’t understand.”

“I’ve got news for you, my friend. This is no mole. It’s a target.”

“A what?”

“A target. Like a dart board. It’s got red and white circles with a little black dot in the middle. Whoever placed this on your back has put a contract on your life.”

“Ohhh!” exclaimed Joe. “Do you know what this means?”

“No. What?”

“My doctor’s a liar, that’s what! A big, fat liar! He said I had cancer and now it turns out I don’t! I’d shoot him right now if I had the chance! All he wants is my money!”

“Stop growling,” said Stan. “And be reasonable. No one can see what I just did without one of these nifty ‘Super Scan Word’ lights. They make all things visible. You’ve got to get yourself one of these!”

“Oh,” replied Joe. “I get it. What you’re saying is my doctor’s not evil incarnate, he’s just a quack. Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be angry at him. But how is that piece of useless information supposed to make me feel any better?”

“It will once I make my diagnosis. With my ‘Super Zoom 3000’ I can figure out exactly what sort of target this is.” Stan pulled out of his pocket a strange looking gizmo that had a stick on one end and a wheel on the other. Inside the wheel was another wheel. It reminded Joe of one of those expensive vibrating things you might find at an electronics boutique. Stan held the wheel end of the gadget two inches from Joe’s back and pressed the button. The wheels began to move, humming as they turned. A light flashed on and off. Stan ran the gadget over every corner of Joe’s back.

“Hmmm,” he said. “Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm.”

Whatever the prognosis was, it didn’t sound good.

“So?” asked Joe. “What are you humming about? Do you have a bee in your ear?”

“Of course I don’t have a bee in my ear! I’m trying to think!”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I was just joking.”

“Sorry,” Stan apologized right back. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I was just trying to make sense of the picture that popped up on this screen.”

“Let me see that,” said Joe. Stan handed him the gadget.

At the end of the gadget opposite the wheels was a monitor containing a short film of a man with dark glasses and a beard who was talking to a couple of mean-looking thugs and offering them money.

Joe thought the two thugs looked strangely familiar.

“Those loser guys look strangely familiar,” he told Stan, “although I’m not quite sure where I’ve seen them before. I have no idea who that guy with the beard and dark glasses is.”

“Are you sure?” asked Stan. “Think. Where have you been during the last few weeks? Have you run into any bearded men with dark glasses at the grocery store or the pizza parlor? Have any guys come by your house dressed like clowns and offering free tickets to the circus? Have you seen any kids with greasy hair running around your neighborhood armed with spray paint or squirt guns? Or perhaps an identity thief snuck up on you while you were at the video arcade, snatched out of your pocket the birth certificate you had put there for security purposes just in case you got kidnapped by terrorists and taken to Egypt, wrote down the information, slipped it back into your pocket, and arranged to have you killed just to cover up his tracks.”

“No,” said Joe. “Nothing that boring has happened to me, although I do keep my original birth certificate with me at all times, because - well, you never know. But I could have sworn I saw someone looking through my window the other day while I was fixing myself some breakfast. Actually, he’s been doing that for the past two weeks. He even offered me a back massage, which didn’t really feel like one. I think he might have messed with my head. What do you think?”

“It may explain the bruises you have all over your body,” replied Stan.

“Well, I do feel pretty beat up,” muttered Joe. “But I thought I did it to myself.”

“In a way you did,” replied Stan. “But there’s more going on here than meets the eye. Can you describe what happened to you just before I found you back there on the road?”

“That’s the strange thing about this entire incident. I never saw what hit me. I was just walking along when ‘Wham!’ A sudden gust knocked the wind out of me. I felt like I had been sucked into the middle of a twister that was tossing me back and forth like a football. Then ‘Bang!’ I hit my head against a rock and woke up with this beeping sound in my head. I can’t get over how that storm just came out of nowhere. Boy, did it pack a powerful punch!”

“That was no storm,” replied Stan. “That was the work of some real pros. They knew just where to hit you.” He continued to examine Joe’s back. “Did you know you have a tattoo down here? It says, ‘I’m the tail. Kick me.’”

The donkey aimed a kick at Stan’s leg. “Ow!” yelled Stan. “Ow, ow, ow! I didn’t say, ‘Kick me!’ ” The donkey aimed another kick. Stan barely hopped out of its way in time to avoid a major injury to his pelvic bone.

“But I don’t want to be the tail!” moaned Joe. “I don’t want people to kick me. Besides, that’s an oxymoron. I’m the kickER, not the kickEE.”

“Don’t remind me,” replied Stan, jumping about on his one good leg. “Now if you’ll let me, I must locate the source of that beeping sound.”

Joe had forgotten about the beeping sound. He was too busy worrying about where his next kick was coming from. By now the beeping sound had turned into a ticking sound.

“That sounds like a clock!” Joe suddenly cried. “It’s telling me I’m running out of time!”

“Not to worry,” said Stan. “That’s no clock. It sounds more like a bomb.”

“Oh no!” panicked Joe, “I’ve got to get out of here! Oh no! Oh no!” The donkey stirred and looked anxiously about. Stan took a firm grip on the rein.

“Hold still,” commanded Stan. Holding the rein with one hand, he took his Super Scan Word Flashlight with his other hand and aimed it at Joe’s scalp. Immediately the light came on, exposing a huge bump the color of a half-eaten burrito left too long in the fridge. Stan pressed a button on his light labeled “Living Word,” and directed it at the burrito. The beeping stopped, and the burrito disappeared.

“Whew!” said Stan, breathing a sigh of relief. “That was a bubonic plague waiting to happen.”

“A what?!” exclaimed Joe, frightening the donkey.

“Don’t worry,” said Stan. “I only meant it could have been a bubonic plague - we’re talking germ warfare here. No big deal.”

“Yes, it is a big deal,” replied Joe. “What do you mean, ‘bubonic plague waiting to happen’?”

“It doesn’t take much to frighten you, does it?” said Stan. “The truth is, you’ve got nothing to worry about now that I’ve deactivated it.”

“Deactivated what?” asked Joe, more worried than ever. “Was it a bomb?”

“No, it was your panic button.”

“My panic button?”

“Yes, your panic button, the emergency ‘double minded’ switch that makes you scream, ‘Oh no!’ whenever you’re in danger. It’s located right between the red light that says, ‘Stop!’ and the green light that says, ‘Go!’ Contrary to popular belief, panic buttons are never hot. They’re lukewarm, unable to decide whether to stop or to go, thus rendering a person limp, lifeless, and useless for the kingdom of God - like a puppet on a string without any backbone, easily carried here and there by every whim of the enemy.”

“Oh, now I get it!” cried Joe. “That’s what made me so vulnerable. But how do I keep that panic button from going off?”

“Simple,” said Stan. This ‘Caution’ light, which is located right next to the panic button, warns you to seek God’s wisdom whenever you feel confused. If you ignore that yellow light, you’ll end up activating the panic button. Then you become a sucker for every scheme the enemy throws your way. It’s amazing the sorts of deals he’ll offer you to make you compromise your faith.”

“But I don’t remember making any deals with anybody,” said Joe. “Are you sure about this?”

“I’ll prove it to you,” said Stan. “Just to warn you, if you suddenly feel like competing in the Olympics, hold your horses. I’m just turning on your internal CD player.” He pushed another button on the Super Scan.

A commercial suddenly came out blaring, "Let's make a deal: for a thousand dollars you can win this ‘all expenses paid’ free trip to Jericho worth a million bucks. Only one thousand dollars for the vacation of a lifetime. If not, you lose your life. Grab it soon. The offer expires next week, so don’t delay.”

“But,” objected the Joe on the CD, “I thought God’s Word said something about supplying all my needs… On the other hand, he did give me a brain, and I think there’s a scripture somewhere that says he always helps those who help themselves.”

Another commercial suddenly came on. This one said, “How can you function when you keep waking up at night? Ask your doctor about Snooze-a-Rex, and get a good night’s sleep for a change. Let’s make a deal! Risks are minimal!” In a low voice that Joe could barely make out, it said, “Side effects include inability to concentrate, a three-month hospital stay due to insanity, and coming back from your cruise only to find your car stolen. Risks of not buying this wonderful medicine is that we will hound you until you do.”

“I guess that’s it!” Joe heard his voice playing on the CD. “God must be leading me in that direction. Otherwise why would I keep hearing the same thing over and over again? I must book that trip right away, and buy that medicine. Otherwise I’m doomed! Doomed! Doomed to suffer nothing but woe! Oh woe is me, oh woe is me, I’m doomed to suffer woe!”

By now the donkey had once again escaped Stan’s grasp. She was prancing in circles, bumping Joe around on her back. Stan chased after her and grabbed the reins. After he caught the donkey, he turned his attention back to Joe.

“Now just hold still,” he said, “while I check for any ‘back masking.’”

Stan pressed the ‘rewind button’ on his Super Scan, and a sinister voice boomed, “Emergency! Too hard for God! Everything’s impossible. Emergency! God doesn’t care. There’s condemnation everywhere. You have to do it all yourself, all yourself, all yourself.”

The donkey was running circles in the other direction now, hee-hawing. By the time Stan caught up with her, he was out of breath and dehydrated.

“Wow!” exclaimed Joe as he was bounced around. “I had no idea all that junk was bottled up inside my head. But what was that weird music playing in the background?”

“Those are just your regular ‘I-tunes’ ” puffed Stan, trying in vain to control his skittish beast of burden. “Me, me, me, I, I, I - that sort of thing. They’re flowing through a current that’s been hot-wired into the hard drive inside your hard head to act as a homing device for the thugs that beat you up. It’s been in there for a couple weeks now.”

“Hot-wired?” asked Joe. “But who did that, and when?”

“Most likely your massage therapist,” said Stan. “His men probably cased the joint and painted that target on your back while you were hypnotized.”

“Oh, is that what he was doing when he waved that funny thing in front of my eyes?” asked Joe. “I remember he asked me some very strange questions, like where would I be going the next day, did I like to travel alone, and how much money I’d be taking with me. I suppose that’s gone too. It figures. I should have kept the cash in my shoes instead of cramming it into my backpack.”

“For what it’s worth, they stole your shoes too. So it wouldn’t have mattered.” Stan sat down, finally having gotten his donkey under control.

“What a lesson I’ve learned,” said Joe. “I’m never going back to Jericho, telling anyone about the money in my hidden safe, or receiving any more massages from a man named ‘Spike.’ ”

“The lesson you should have learned is to be wretched and mourn and weep over being so double minded,” said Stan. “But until you do, I’m attaching this ‘new mindset headset’ to your thick skull. There’s lots of praise tunes on it, with plenty of scripture to clear your confused mind. And one more thing: never trust a peeping Tom.”

“That’s good advice, Stan,” said Joe as Stan attached the headset. “I’ll try to follow it from now on.” And so they continued their journey, Joe lying on the bewildered runaway donkey, and Stan trying his best to catch up as she raced toward the inn.

The above story is about discernment of spirits. Discernment of spirits is a special gift that enables a person to see below the surface of what’s going on in a particular situation or with a particular person, as Stan did. He saw what was beneath the surface as far as his friend Joe was concerned. And by so doing, he was able to help his friend.

To learn more about the gift of discernment, read Acts 5:1-10; Acts 8:5-23; John 10:4-5, 27; I Corinthians 12:10 and 14:1; Hebrews 5:14 and 11:6; Proverbs 1:7 and 2:3; Psalm 119:105; and James 2:17.

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