Compassion: Identifying with Humanity

Lately, I've been thinking about compassion and how we are to live inside of its embrace. For that, I’ve jotted down a few of my thoughts concerning compassion.

Throughout history, there are those who have exemplified what it means to live out compassion. However, I can't think of anyones life more far-reaching than Jesus himself. The way he was able to move and minister among the poor, the sick, the downtrodden, and the sin-ridden is simply fascinating. For me, one of the most intriguing passages in the practice of Jesus' earthly ministry is in Matthew’s gospel:

"When He went ashore, He saw a large crowd, and felt compassion for them and healed their sick." Matthew 14:14 (NASB)

This passage shines light on how the life of Jesus was (and still is) one of action and immediate compassion:

He went (incarnating).

He saw (observing).

He felt (identifying).

He healed (absorbing).

These actions of compassion were so embraced by Jesus, that, many times, it became the reason for his goings and doings (see Mark 8:2).

Of these four verbiages (went, saw, felt, healed), I can't help but be drawn to "he felt." Other translations say, "he was moved with compassion." When you look up “moved” in the concordance, you'll discover something very interesting: the word (splagchnizomai) is a verb meaning, "to be moved as to one's bowels (for the bowels were thought to be the seat of love and pity)." The root word (splagchnon) is a noun meaning, "bowels, intestines" which were "regarded as the seat of the more violent passions, such as anger and love; but by the Hebrews as the seat of the tenderer affections, especially kindness, benevolence, compassion; hence our heart (tender mercies, affections, etc.).”

I understand this whole "bowels talk" might make us a little uncomfortable, but I want us to see something very significant.

The ministry of Jesus was one of deep, heartfelt filial affection; it was an active force that originated in the very core of his being. One that led him to be touched by our infirmities, bruised for our iniquity, and, in the most egregious way, ridiculed by our rage. I imagine this compassion ran so deep that the very thought of it resulted in unimaginable anguish—one that would produce sweat like great drops of blood (see Luke 22:44).

Coming as us (not only for us), he fully felt, tasted, and experienced the depths of the human condition—both in the realm of happy and hurtful. For this, we call him our “co-suffering servant.”

The Son dove so deep into the human condition that, to quote David in Psalm 69 (a messianic Psalm about Christ’ suffering), he was so “heartsick and heartbroken by it all.” This descent was to the point that he “looked for sympathy and compassion but found only empty stares.” For a second, just imagine Christ suffering at the hands of rage and ridicule, looking around only to find that, with the exception of his Father, he was left all alone (see John 16:32).

The “empty stares” that David prophesied of were indicators of the onlookers (us) who find it utterly incomprehensible to understand such love and compassion? I suppose this is why we need the Spirit to reveal “…the astonishing love of Christ in all its dimensions. How deeply intimate and far-reaching is his love! How enduring and inclusive it is! Endless love beyond measurement that transcends our understanding—this extravagant love pours into you until you are filled to overflowing with the fullness of God!” (Ephesians‬ ‭3‬:‭18‬-‭19‬ ‭TPT)‬‬

Isaiah would identify Jesus as a man “acquainted with all of our sorrow” (Isaiah 53:3). This acquaintance and identification means that he would allow the pain (of seeing his creation lost in darkness) to pass through his soul. In mirror-reflection of the Fathers heart to descend into, absorb, and ultimately heal the human condition, he chose not to inhibit or resist it, but allowed it to touch deep down within—yet, at the same time, not permitting it to alter the image of the Father, himself, or his neighbor. This (incarnating, observing, identifying, and absorbing) gave space for healing and transformation to flow from his broken body.

Matthew wasn’t the only one pointing out the healing of Jesus that flowed from his heartfelt compassion. Mark adds to this truth by writing, “Moved with compassion, Jesus stretched out His hand and touched him, and *said to him, “I am willing; be cleansed.” Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cleansed” (1‬:‭41‬-‭42‬)‬‬.

The writer of Hebrews says, “For we do not have a High Priest Who is unable to understand and sympathize and have a shared feeling with our weaknesses and infirmities and liability to the assaults of temptation, but One Who has been tempted in every respect as we are, yet without sinning." (4:15 AMPC)

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR US?

There’s a realm of compassion that can only be expressed when two or more people share a similar experience. This is why we often see ministry and charity organizations being led by ones who've experienced similar trauma. It's not unusual to find a fellow recoverer at the helm. Simply because they know, understand, and can identify with the other. As such, they can help the beneficiary navigate such waters.

When we feel and are moved with (what I call) "Christ-compassion," we are identifying with the deepest, most heartfelt emotion of the other. It goes down to the most central place of our souls. For this, compassion arises out of the act of sharing in the pain, grief, and sorrow of another. It doesn’t judge or condemn, but feels and absorbs the pain alongside the other (our “neighbor”). I assume this is why one of the oldest forms of compassion means “to suffer with.”

When we allow the pain of grief and anguish to touch our own soul, not inhibiting or resisting it, we then become more compassionate towards others. When we “become acquainted” as Jesus was acquainted, we can then become a river of living water. This compassion becomes a space in which healing can flow. Therefore, our responsibility is not to carry the heavy burden of feeling that we have to heal everyone, but to create space and allow healing in our own internal world—one that can spill over into the world around us. If the incarnation taught us anything, it most definitely showed us: you can’t heal what you don’t take on.

As one church father said, "when we say that Jesus had compassion on the people it means that all the individual suffering of many people is gathered in Christ and Christ bears all the suffering at the same time. The pressure of the suffering of the people is Christ's passion. Christ is the sum total of all the poor in this world."

-RA