Seems like everyone these days is coughing, sniffling, sneezing. It was at our house earlier this winter. Over the course of a few hours, my son’s cold morphed into a sinus infection. I could see it in his eyes, and the way he winced when he moved his head. Of course it was the weekend, and the doctor’s office wouldn’t open until Monday morning.
It’s bad enough to be sick, but somehow it’s a little bit worse when you’re sick on your birthday. He curled up on the sofa, the picture of misery, while we ate his special birthday dinner. The more pathetic he looked, the more my heart filled with compassion.
The Greek word for compassion means something like “to be moved to the bowels.” Maybe it’s a bit like the English phrase “gut wrenching”. It’s a physical reaction to seeing someone else’s needs. It’s more than just feeling sorry for another person – it’s your insides doing a flip.
The Bible uses this word to describe Jesus’ response to the desperation of the crowds that sought Him – “He felt compassion for them” (Matthew 9:36); “He had compassion” (Matthew 14:14); “[Jesus was] moved with compassion” (Matthew 20:34). Jesus doesn’t just feel sorry for us – our suffering touches Him at the gut-level.
The Hebrew word for compassion is closely related to the word for womb. This makes sense – compassion holds its object in the innermost parts. It seeks to shelter, protect and provide. It’s the care of a parent for a beloved child.
If I could have traded places with my son when he was sick, I would have, but some circumstances are beyond our ability to change. Jesus has never had that happen. In each of the instances mentioned above, Jesus acted. He exerted His power on behalf of the hurting: “Wherever he went, he healed people of every sort of disease and illness” (Matthew 9:35); “he healed their sick” (Matthew 14:14); “he touched their eyes. Instantly they could see!” (Matthew 20:34) It’s the whole reason He came – to do for us what we were helpless to do for ourselves. He suffered together with us and emerged triumphant over every affliction, to strengthen our hope that suffering isn’t the end of our story.
“Praise the Lord, my soul, and forget not all his benefits - who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.” Psalm 103:2-5 NIV