Just leave her. She’s just a peasant. We don’t have time. 

Our tour bus driver was talking about the woman our minibus had just hit. I couldn’t make out every word he was saying, but judging from body language and pulling some of the language I’d learned thus far, I knew he wanted to move on and not be bothered with a common villager who had gotten in our way. 

But that is not okay, some of us insisted. We couldn’t just leave her lying there, though no one in the vicinity seemed to have noticed nor cared. We exited the bus to get a closer look. 

One of the men lifted her up off the dirt road, carried her inside, and carefully lay her head on my lap. She was utterly unconscious, body limp. Sweat and blood mingled, smeared along her temple. We’d knocked her out with a turn in our haste to the next restaurant that was to feed and entertain our group for the evening.  

Our driver found the nearest hospital. We carried her inside. It was eerily quiet and clean. When a man in a white coat showed up, he casually motioned for us to put her down and leave. I didn’t want to leave. After all, we weren’t merely tourists on the island. We had come to live as English teachers in the city, not only to educate, but to bring the light of the gospel to this province. This woman was God’s creation, bearing His image. Just as much as I’d want someone to notice and care for me, she deserved the same. 

Where is the humanity here? I thought. Only a stiff disregard filled the air. We were again instructed to leave. The compassion we had shown didn’t feel good enough. 

Have you felt like the good things you do in your service area aren’t making much of a difference? Isn’t it easy to become indifferent and callous in this world? But God sees. Our driver saw our actions too. Compassion speaks universally. Maybe the Lord intended to move within his heart that day and the injured woman was the catalyst for impact.