Article February 1, 1993 Issue

No borders

Do some people and some places have more of God's goodness than others?

Paul Cordingly Morgan

I Was within sight of a neighborhood service station when my car ran out of gas. It was rush hour, and the busy street I was on was filled with traffic. Even if I ran to the station and ran back with a can of gas, the traffic snarl would be terrible.

When a taxicab driver made a daring maneuver through the traffic and swung in behind me, I was encouraged. But my hopes fell as I realized that he was a newcomer to my country and that we could not understand each other's language. I didn't want to be rude, but I wasn't in the mood to deal with cultural and language barriers. In fact, as the traffic began to pile up, this man's arrival and our arm-waving attempts to communicate seemed mostly an added complication. Also my pride kept telling me that it was odd to be enlisting the help of this stranger from a distant land when I was only a few blocks from my own home!

Patiently, however, he persisted in his efforts to help me, and in a few minutes he had pushed my car out of traffic and into the service station. I was very appreciative of the help and offered him some money for his time and trouble. He quickly refused, with the only sentence from our entire "conversation" I clearly understood: "It was my duty."

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