There’s a particular temptation in a task-oriented place like an auto shop. You start to see the car instead of the person.
The car is concrete and solvable. Either the alternator works or it doesn’t. There’s a diagnostic process, a part, a procedure, and an outcome you can verify. Solving problems is satisfying. People are messier. They have histories and worries and stories they may or may not tell you. Their broken car is often the visible tip of a much larger iceberg.
That tension is exactly where the Good Samaritan lesson lands for anyone who serves. And the part of the story most of us skip past is the most important part.
They all saw him
You probably know the parable in Luke 10:25–37. A man is beaten, robbed, and left half dead on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho. A priest comes by and passes on the other side. So does a Levite. Then a Samaritan comes along, the last person Jesus’ audience would have expected to be the hero.
Here’s the detail worth slowing down for. The priest saw the man (Luke 10:31). The Levite saw him too (Luke 10:32). They weren’t unaware. They noticed him, and they kept walking.
Then: “But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was, and when he saw him, he had compassion” (Luke 10:33).
The Greek word for “saw” there carries the sense of active, intentional perception. Not glancing in someone’s direction, but truly registering what’s in front of you. So the difference between the three men wasn’t eyesight. It was attention: the willingness to let what you see actually land on you and move you.
Compassion isn’t a personality type
It’s also worth noticing what the story doesn’t say. It doesn’t say the Samaritan stopped because he was naturally empathetic. It doesn’t say he had a gift for mercy that the others lacked.
And when Jesus finishes, he doesn’t say “go and feel more compassion.” He says, “You go, and do likewise” (Luke 10:37).
That’s good news for those of us who don’t consider ourselves “people persons.” Paying attention is something you can choose. And when you really pay attention to a person, it almost always moves you toward them. Seeing clearly leads to serving fully.
What it looks like with a wrench in your hand
Kevin, one of our volunteers, retired from a career in electrical engineering. His way into The Garage was the building itself. He helped build out our space before he ever worked on a car. Then he started on cars. Then he started paying attention to the people attached to them. That analytical, detail-minded engineering brain got redirected from systems to people.
There have been times Kevin drove a customer home in the evening, sometimes an hour away, and then came back the next day to finish the car. One job took four extra days, and Kevin kept working on it even when no other volunteers could come. Sheila will be forever grateful. So will Daniel from Butler, and Nicole from Fombell, and plenty of others whose names we may not remember.
What strikes me most about Kevin is that his compassion holds steady even with difficult customers. He sees past the difficult surface to the difficult circumstances underneath it. That’s the Samaritan’s kind of seeing.
Every task has a person attached
You don’t have to fix cars for this to apply. Every volunteer role has a “car” in it: the task that’s concrete and measurable and easy to focus on.
- The meal you’re serving has a person holding the plate.
- The child you’re checking in has a parent who may have barely made it out the door.
- The chair you’re setting up will hold someone who almost didn’t come today.
- The form you’re filling out represents someone’s rent, or job, or diagnosis.
Every car in our bay is someone’s lifeline to their job, their family, their doctor, their church. You’re not just fixing cars. You’re serving people. The task matters. But the task is never the whole point.
Four ways to practice seeing
If you want to grow in this, here are a few simple disciplines to try at your next shift:
- Ask one real question. Not “How are you?” but something that invites an actual answer. “How’s this week been for you?” “What’s this car need to get you to?”
- Listen to the whole answer. Resist the urge to get back to the task as soon as there’s a pause.
- Let silence sit. Don’t rush to fill quiet moments. Sometimes the important thing comes after a long breath.
- Notice overwhelm. Watch for the tight shoulders, the apologizing, the person who keeps explaining. Those are often signs of a much bigger story. You don’t have to fix it. You just have to see it.
None of these take much time. They mostly take a decision to slow down long enough to actually see the person in front of you.
Keep both in view
I’m not saying the task doesn’t matter. At The Garage, a friendly volunteer who can’t get the brakes right isn’t much help to anyone. Competence is a form of love.
But the Samaritan didn’t have to choose between compassion and practical help. He bandaged wounds, poured on oil and wine, and paid the innkeeper. His attention led straight to action. That’s the pattern: see the person, and then serve them well.
The car is never really just the car. There’s always a person and a story behind it. Keep both in view.
I tell more of Kevin’s story, and what it has taught me about seeing people, in Full Service. Here’s one question to carry into your next time serving: Who did I see today, and who did I just walk past?