Compassion

She said YES!

The pond was beautiful this morning. The woods looked as if God had sifted confectioner’s sugar over the trees and it was cold enough to hold the dusting of snow in place, making the path a distinct white trail. My thoughts drifted upward and my heart was soon filled with praise and gratitude towards my Father. A friend, who I think is so funny, once said, “There’s always something to thank God for. You can thank Him for those little coffee creamers if you just can’t think of anything else!” I do recognize seasons of life we go through when the Thanks list seems to run short. And let’s face it…it’s a lot easier to complain. But she had a valid point.

Christmas Eve my son Jake proposed to a beautiful young woman named Kayla, who loves him and more importantly, loves Jesus as much as Jake does. This adds an excitement and richness to their future that is hard to explain, unless you also share that love with your spouse. Yet I was reflecting on the not-so-distant past as I hiked the frosted woods this morning. For several years after Spence died all I could do was plead with God to take care of my two remaining sons. I was broken; emotionally, mentally, even physically for a time and I understood my inadequacy to fill their needs. I grew up in a family shattered by loss, all of us adrift in a black ocean of sorrow. I did not want that to be their story too. My journals that I kept then reflect my desperation. God, take care of Miles. Watch over Jake. I must have looked pathetic, but because of His great mercy, He just saw me with eyes of compassion. I love when the psalmist says, “I waited patiently for the Lord, and He inclined unto me and heard my cry.” I picture God stooping down like a father to a small hysterical child and with His arm around them, saying, “Yes, I’m here, I’m here. What is it child?”

Miles married a beautiful girl who loves God and who has been a perfect daughter to me besides being a wonderful wife and mother. My granddaughter sings songs about God’s love to me. And a wedding is planned for this July. As I walked through our Creator’s winter wonderland this morning I mused over days where coffee creamers might have been at the top of my “thank-you” list. And I don’t regret those days because so much sweeter are these days of incredible blessing and answered prayer. “Now unto him who is able to do exceeding abundantly above all we ask or think…” (Eph. 3:20)Yes. But may my heart in every season be an offering of praise to the One who IS able, especially when we are not.

Then Jesus, moved with compassion, stretched out His hand and touched him, and said to him, “I am willing; be cleansed. —Mark 1:41 NKJV

Are you old enough to remember AT&T’s ad campaign, “Reach out and touch someone”? A modern version would be “reach out and listen to voice mail prompts” or “…and text someone.” I am guilty too. Sometimes a text is SO much easier than a real whole conversation. The problem is we are a culture where real touch is lacking. A friend loses a loved one. Send a card, leave a message or write an email. It’s all so tidy and it makes you feel like you care. But your friend may be feeling the outfall of all of this faceless communication…isolation and despair.

Billy Graham lamented recently that he felt we never should have done away with the black armbands of the WWII era. They were worn by people who had lost a loved one and they were worn for a year. The armband meant “I’m hurting, go easy.” The community understood. Handle with care… a gentle touch and lots of grace.

Jesus’ ministry wasn’t found in cathedrals or counseling offices. Yes he did preach in the synagogues as he traveled but I don’t think he would’ve had “The Jesus Hour” on TV. You could find him in the middle of huge pressing crowds, or walking among the sick, the untouchables. When he touched the leper and healed him, the word “touch” used here doesn’t mean to touch lightly, it means to grasp or hold. “Jesus was moved with compassion”…true compassion lays hold.

I am not the huggy-feely type but I learned the preciousness of a hug after my son died. The hugs were many and I needed them. The cards, the emails were precious too, but only if they came from people who were “moved by compassion.” Let’s be careful that compassion and a much needed embrace are not replaced by convenience and a Hallmark attitude. Let’s touch as Jesus did…with fearless love.