When was the last time you dressed a wound? If you’re a doctor or nurse probably just the other day. If you are the mother of small boys, probably just this morning. When was the last time you dressed spiritual wounds? When was the last time you set someone on your own beast, “and brought him to an inn, and took care of him”? (Luke 10:30–35)
Why does it seem that the spiritually wounded are so often passed by and forgotten? Is it because one cannot see the wounds, that they seem that much less real? Out of sight, out of mind? Is it easier to say, “It’s the Elders Quorum President’s job,” than to bind “up the wounds, pouring in oil and wine” of our own initiative? Perhaps we find it easier to administer from behind a desk than to minister from a couch.
Yet it still remains that all around us there are many who are stripped, wounded, and half dead, and if not attended too, they will, in fact, die spiritually. Are we as the priest or the Levite, perhaps in such a hurry to the temple, who upon seeing the wounded, passes by on the other side?
Or are we like the Good Samaritan, with no thought to the cultural identity to the injured, and of his own love of humankind, takes a moment to stop and tend to his wounds? Or as Alma, who gave up his political position of Chief Judge, so he could devote more time to his ecclesiastical position of high priest because of his concern for the spiritual welfare of the people? (Alma 4)
“The fatherless and widows” (James 1:27), “the poor and the needy” (D&C 44:6), and “each member” (D&C 20:47,51) need our visits, that we may “watch over…, and be with and strengthen them,” “administer to their relief,” tend “their affliction, and keep [them] unspotted from the world.”
Let us divide our gifts with every brother that we see who has the need of help from us (Hymns, 219). Let us learn the healer’s art. Let us show a gentle heart to the wounded and the weary (Hymns, 220). Let us not use our eyes to see the sorrow hidden in the quiet heart. Let us use our hearts.
