Compassion

January 19, 2019

“Isn’t it amazing how much variation God can get out of one head, two arms and two legs?” My friend Chuck and I were watching the crowds in the mall. God’s creativity in the human being goes unnoticed among those we see every day, but a day in Toronto watching thousands of people milling around the Eaton Center presents so many people of all shapes and sizes that it’s impossible for me to not notice. And if size, shape, gender, or race weren’t enough, the inner persons shining through their attire reveals personality, identity, and preferences that common enough in the city, appear strange to these country eyes. Today was a smorgasbord of humanity. 

And God loves them all. Equally. He doesn’t love me more because I’ve tried to follow him, and doesn’t love any of them less if they’ve shaken their fists in his face. He doesn’t prefer youthful voluptuous beauty or handsome virility over the old dirty homeless man huddled over a heating grate, the pockmarked or wrinkled, the skinny or the fat. Introvert that I am, though I enjoyed watching the parade of people, most of the time I prefer them one at a time, or if necessary, in small groups. It’s admittedly easier loving those who see life as I do, and harder to love those I’ve never met. 

I think I need to get out more. The Scripture tells us, “when [Jesus] saw the crowds, he was moved with compassion for them.” (Matthew 9:36 and 14:14). It wasn’t his study of the Scriptures or the frequency of his prayers, but his connection with the crowds that moved him to compassion. The prayers and Scripture certainly set the stage, but it was mixing it up with ordinary people in all their infinite variety that moved him to compassion. He saw through the both the physical form and the social and spiritual posturing to the souls that were lost and wandering like sheep without a shepherd; it was this lostness that grabbed his heart. I’m thankful for the crowds I saw today. May their lostness also grab mine.