Wreckage

I had a conviction today, I started to call it an epiphany and then I was convicted about calling it that instead of what it really was. I was driving on the interstate today and traffic came to a crawl at this one point because everyone was slowing down to peer way over onto a frontage road where some poor smo had wrecked into a fence. First off this iritates me when people slow down simply to take in a sight such as this. I would, however, be a hyprocrite if I said I didn't do the same thing. What is it in us that makes us so interested in something like that. We just want to see it, even if the scene is gruesome, gory, make you wanna hurl kind of sick we just have to see it. We all peer out our windows and marvel at the massive piles of crumpled metal that use to be someone's mode of transportation. Why is that curiosity rises inside of me almost instinctively, causing me to slow my vehicle down to a crawl on the interstate and yet the opposite seems to happen when I see someone hurting. When we see people hurting and broken down our feet tend to pick up speed and our eyes seem to divert in any and every other direction, but the direction of that person's "wreckage?" Where is my curiousity then? Where is that intense desire to "see" what the problem is? It is in times like these I find myself walking in perfect step with the Priest and the Levite, leaving the Good Samaritan in the dust.