One Monday morning my wife left me. Packed up some earthly belongings, our only daughter, and a Visa card before heading west for a week, leaving Jeffrey, Stephen, and me to fend for ourselves.
I had never given the idea of compassion much thought until a few months ago when in the midst of a friend’s crisis, I felt gut wrenching pain and realized, for the first time, this was what true compassion felt like.
For the rest of the missions trip, I thought about Jesus' ministry and the compassion He must have felt for the many people He encountered. People He taught, healed, and those who desperately cried out to Him. He even had compassion for those who mocked Him.
Being compassionate or not is all about what you look at and see. The fact that we don't like seeing pain makes compassion difficult, but compassion only occurs in the context of another's pain.
Looking back more than 60 years, I've learned a valuable lesson: when people are hurting, they need much more than an accurate analysis and a quick diagnosis. More than professional advice.
Satan and his demons operate by deceiving us, seducing us, blinding us, accusing us, and seeking to influence us in such a way as to defeat us and thereby rob God of His glory (Ephesians 6:12).
But it was like something out of a horror movie at first. Then I thought, Well, make the most of it. So I did. Sometimes the only thing I can control is my outlook. My response. This was definitely one of those times.
The Bible isn't just ink on a page, but a conduit of the Spirit. It is not ours to dissect, summarize, manage, or control. It presides over us. With Lectio Divina we read smaller amounts and take more time to do it.
However, the past few months have made me wonder: if I was given a death sentence would I have the same level of peace and assurance as my grandmother?