Jesus traveled through all the towns and villages of that area, teaching in the synagogues and announcing the Good News about the Kingdom. And he healed every kind of disease and illness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them because they were confused and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. [Matthew 9:35-36 (NLT)]
My summer beach novel began with a man having a heart attack on a commuter train. For the next several pages, I was privy to the thoughts of his fellow passengers who were annoyed by the train’s unscheduled stop for medical aid. Because they’d be delayed, they saw the man’s collapse as a tremendous inconvenience to them. As passengers disembarked to find another way into the city, their thoughts were not of the dying man and his wife but of themselves and how they’d been inconvenienced.
My husband has been on a commuter train that was delayed because someone deliberately stepped onto the tracks in front of the train. His fellow passengers were like those in my novel. Their words were about themselves and how the delay negatively affected them. They seemed to forget that this person’s death had ruined more than a day for his family and friends—let alone the train’s engineer who’d become an unwilling accomplice in a suicide.
Back in the days of typewriters, my friend Gaye taught typing at the local junior college. When a student with only one arm entered her classroom, rather than empathy for the challenges he faced trying to conquer a keyboard, she thought of the problems his handicap posed for her as his teacher. Like the train passengers and Gaye, we usually see life through the eyes of self-concern. Forgetting that it really isn’t about us and we’re not the center of the world, our self-interest often undermines our compassion, patience, and understanding.
Surely all those people who followed Jesus and pled for healing inconvenienced and delayed our Lord, but we never read of Him sending anyone away because He was too busy or had better things to do. Jesus didn’t complain about walking to Jairus’ house or being delayed by the woman with the blood issue. Spotting a tax collector in need of forgiveness, He stopped for Zacchaeus and, hearing a blind man beg for mercy, He called for Bartimaeus. Rather than complain about interruptions or inconvenience, Jesus showed mercy, sympathy, patience, and kindness.
“It must be hard for you,” said a stranger to Anne as she maneuvered the walker into her car. “Yes,” she admitted, “but it’s much harder for my aunt who has Parkinson’s!” Although she was inconvenienced by the challenges of caregiving, Anne knows that Parkinson’s is no picnic for her aunt either. On the days she resents the extra weight placed on her shoulders, Anne remembers it is worse for the woman whose weight she is carrying. When she considers life from her aunt’s position, any resentment or feeling of inconvenience is replaced by love and compassion. Isn’t that what doing unto others really means? To truly do unto others, we need to put ourselves in the other person’s shoes instead of complaining about a little scuff on ours!
Christ and compassion go hand in hand but compassion doesn’t always come easily. It’s only human to have our first response be, “What does this mean to me?” or “How will I be affected?” It may be human, but it’s not Christ-like.
The first question which the priest and the Levite asked was: “If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?” But the good Samaritan reversed the question: “If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?” [Martin Luther King, Jr.]
Isaiah heard the Lord ask, “Whom shall I send as a messenger to this people?” and responded, “Here I am. Send me.” When God commissioned him to be His messenger/prophet, Isaiah was acting as a scribe and had a family. Nevertheless, without hesitation, his was an unqualified, “Send me!” Isaiah didn’t know exactly what God wanted him to do or how he was supposed to do it. Even after God told him that the people wouldn’t listen, Isaiah never wavered. Many of Scripture’s heroes, however, weren’t as eager to do God’s work.
“It’s a masterpiece!” I would exclaim when admiring my grands’ latest creations before hanging them on the refrigerator. Truth be told, they only were masterpieces in my grandma eyes. To anyone else, they were just a child’s efforts with crayons, markers, and stickers. A real masterpiece is a work done with exceptional skill—a supreme intellectual or artistic achievement. Even then, the word “masterpiece” usually is limited to an artist’s best work. While my grands needed to hone their skills before creating a true artistic masterpiece, every one of us is a one-of-a-kind masterpiece and an example of God’s best work.
When someone has an unduly optimistic or positive view of things, they are often said to be wearing “rose-colored glasses.” According to Adam Anderson, a University of Toronto professor of psychology, our moods do affect the way we see things and, as moods change, so does our visual perception. “Good and bad moods literally change the way our visual cortex operates,” says the professor about a 2009 study he conducted. “In a positive mood,” he explained, “our visual cortex takes in more information, while negative moods result in tunnel vision.” He concluded that the better our mood, the better able our brains are to comprehend what it is our eyes are seeing. In short, we see better when we have a positive outlook of “rose-colored glasses”!
El Roi is one of the Hebrew names for God. We find it in Genesis 16 when Hagar encountered God in the desert and addressed Him as El Roi, meaning “the God who sees me.” After God told Hagar she was pregnant, He said to name her soon to be born son Ishmael. A combination of the Hebrew el and shama, the boy’s name means “God hears” or “God listens.” God both heard and saw Hagar because He’s omnipresent and omniscient; He can be everywhere and know everything at all times. There’s no place we can hide where we’re unknown, unseen, or unheard by Him.
Devotions of the Heart 