What Must I Do?
“Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” — Luke 10:25, KJV
Some questions sound spiritual but are actually deadly. This one from the lawyer in Luke 10 is a perfect example:
“Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?”
At first glance, it feels like the kind of question Jesus would applaud. After all, isn’t that what we’re supposed to be asking—what must we do to please God, live rightly, and inherit eternal life?
But Jesus doesn’t respond with a quick gospel summary or an altar call. He gives a more piercing answer—one that forces the man (and us) to see what’s going on in his heart.
The Question Behind the Question
The lawyer was not just curious; Luke tells us plainly that he “stood up, and tempted him.” This is a test, not a genuine inquiry.
So Jesus answers with a question of His own:
“What is written in the law? How readest thou?”
The man responds with what we might call a “Sunday school” answer.
He quotes Deuteronomy 6 and Leviticus 19, summing up the entire law:
“Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind; and thy neighbour as thyself.”
It’s a good answer. It’s the right answer. Jesus says, “Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt live.”
But don’t miss what just happened.
Jesus has not lowered the bar—He has revealed how high it really is. The man wants a manageable path to eternal life. Jesus gives him a mirror that shows an impossible standard. Love God with every fiber of your being, at all times. Love your neighbor with the same care and devotion you give yourself, no matter who they are or what they’ve done.
And if you think you’ve got that covered, keep reading.
The Real Motive: Justifying Ourselves
Luke tells us: “But he, willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbour?’”
There it is. The lawyer wasn’t looking for mercy—he was looking for loopholes. He’s not asking how to love, he’s asking how far love must go. It’s the question every legalist eventually asks: How much is enough? Where does my responsibility end?
We ask the same thing in subtle ways:
Do I really have to forgive that person again?
Is generosity still generosity if I keep it safe and calculated?
Can I love people in principle but still avoid them in practice?
We want to shrink the law’s demands down to something we can manage. Jesus refuses to play along.
The Parable That Disarms Us
So Jesus tells a story—one of the most well-known, yet most misunderstood, in the entire Bible: the Parable of the Good Samaritan.
A man is attacked, stripped, and left for dead on the road. Two respected religious figures—a priest and a Levite—see him, and pass by. No help. No mercy. No interruption of their routines.
Then comes a Samaritan. The cultural and religious enemy. He sees the man, and instead of walking by, he walks toward him. He binds his wounds. He puts him on his animal. He brings him to an inn. He pays for his care and promises more.
“Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves?”
The lawyer can’t even bring himself to say “the Samaritan.” He just says, “He that shewed mercy.” Jesus replies, “Go, and do thou likewise.”
But Jesus isn’t giving us a new ethical program. He’s giving us a lesson in the impossibility of the law to save.
You Are Not the Samaritan
We often misread this parable as a call to “be the Samaritan.” And yes, there’s a call to mercy here. But before we can follow Jesus in love, we must be rescued by Him in grace.
The parable shows us what real love looks like—selfless, inconvenient, costly, unconditional. And when we see that standard, if we’re honest, we realize we don’t love that way.
We are not the Good Samaritan in the story. We are the man in the ditch.
Bruised. Broken. Spiritually dead. Hopeless and helpless on our own.
And yet Jesus crossed the road of heaven to come to us. He saw us when no one else would stop. He took our place. He healed our wounds. He paid our debt. He bore our shame. He loved us when we had nothing to offer in return.
From Law to Gospel, from Doing to Done
To the lawyer’s question, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” The gospel answers, “It has already been done.”
Jesus fulfilled the law’s demand to love perfectly, toward God and neighbor. And that righteousness is freely given to all who trust in Him. Not earned. Not deserved. Not even partly. Entirely a gift of grace.
Once you’ve been loved like that, then you can begin to love others, not to justify yourself, but because you’ve already been justified. Not as a burden, but as a response. Not to inherit life, but because eternal life has already been given.