The Spirit of Compassion

By Lesa Mayes-Stringer

Edmonton, Canada

Scripture: Luke 1:46-50 (NIV)

Mary’s Song

                                                      And Mary said:

“My soul glorifies the Lord
     and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has been mindful
    of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
    for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
    holy is his name.
 His mercy extends to those who fear him,
    from generation to generation.”

Mary sang praises to God because she was going to play a part in the most extraordinary event since the creation of the world – the birth of the Messiah. Sometimes we may ask why God would even listen to our prayers. Who are we that the creator would care? Mary expressed these same thoughts in her song. She was not wealthy nor rich or famous. She lived a simple life. She was an unknown. She wasn’t an influencer or a star. God wanted to teach the world a lesson to help us understand what He sees as important. God showed us through Mary that He uses the lowly, the simple and the unknown to do the most important things in life – to practice mercy, grace and love. He does this by leading with compassion.

So, what is compassion? Is it those fuzzy feelings you have while you sit and pet a dog or cat? Those feelings you get when you see someone in pain? Is it only that? A feeling? Or is there more to compassion? We know that Jesus had emotions, but this is not something described a lot in the scriptures. What we do see is what he did, how he did it and how, under the most difficult circumstances, when others walked away, he stayed. Jesus stood by, in front and behind. He did whatever it took to comfort those around him, which is completely opposite to what most of us would do in the same situations. It is easy to help a friend, but to serve an enemy? That takes something else.

Where others are afraid, too tired or too ashamed, Jesus steps in and steps up. So, what is compassion? It’s both the heart being moved and a conscious decision to act – to meet the needs of someone, whether physically, emotionally or spiritually.

As I teenager, I was very religious and judgmental. I was also a Canadian bobsledder preparing for the Olympic Games. I would often look around me and make judgmental remarks about other people and athletes. Worse, I would drag others into my graceless way of thinking, and they would agree with me. We would pat ourselves on our backs thanking God that we were not like “that person!” I mean, look at how they are dressed! Look at this. Look at that. They are doing what?! I would then continue on in my self-depraved, dishonorable and judgmental ways congratulating myself on being a good Christian who believed in Jesus and was so happy that I wasn’t like those people who did bad things.

Boy oh boy did I need saving! I was reached out to by someone and studied the Bible. I saw that I was far from being the “little Christs” (Christians) described in the Bible, those who reminded the non‑believers around them of Jesus. Those who reminded others of his love and compassion.

As a high-performance athlete, you are trained to focus on your goals, to not get distracted by your shortcomings and, when you fail, to stand up, dust yourself off and move on. You can’t dwell on defeat. Your focus is improving yourself, pushing yourself, basking in your glory, and gaining honor for yourself. I would say to people I was doing sports for God. But where was God in this? My thoughts, my time, my energy were all focused on me. When there is so much focus on self, there is little room for compassion.

As I saw the compassion of people around me, I was finally honest with myself. My heart couldn’t feel. I mean I could neither feel love from others or for others. I was afraid and sad and, to be honest, I was a little jealous too. I knew I didn’t want to live my entire life like this and so I really prayed intensely for God to help me to have compassion. I became a Christian, but my heart still needed to be worked on. It meant trying to understand the root of the problem. Also, by receiving compassion from others, my “Grinch” heart started to melt.

One experience that moved me deeply happened while my husband Chris, our three children and I were living in Lyon, France. My husband’s left hand would shake, and he often would drop things. This went on for years. Then we noticed that his foot started to shake. Both the shaking in his foot and hand started to get worse and worse. Finally, the doctor ordered an MRI. We were horrified to find out that he had a tumor in the center of his brain located in an area that was inoperable, thus making the tumor untreatable. My husband could die at any time. The tumor was located in the control area of his brain, the area that controls your involuntary muscles such as your heart and lungs. Therefore, if the tumor grew, my husband would die either quickly or perhaps he would have two years to live. 

There are no words to describe the anguish we felt from this prognosis and the accompanying uncertainty. It was terrifying and heartbreaking. We also had questions. Would his behavior change? Was he going to gradually become comatose? The sadness and fear were overwhelming. 

We were leading the church in Lyon with four other couples at the time. At the church service, one of the leaders who knew about the situation went to the front to welcome everyone. At the end of the welcome, he said that he had some really bad news to share. He started to tell the church about my husband’s situation. He started to weep, and his voice shook. In fact, the entire church started weeping. At that moment, the sermon was cancelled. Instead, everyone sat together holding each other. Together we cried, prayed, and sang soothing hymns to God and to each other for one and a half hours. Chris, our children and I felt the arms of Christ wrapped around us. We felt the tears from his love and his warmth displayed through those who had become “little Christs,” our spiritual brothers and sisters. We were comforted by Christ’s compassion. No one knew what to say. What they did was exactly what we needed at that time. They leaned into us instead of running away and stood by us. They grieved with us. 

Isaiah 40:1-5 (NRSV)

Comfort, O comfort my people,
    says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
    and cry to her
that she has served her term,
    that her penalty is paid,
that she has received from the Lord’s hand
    double for all her sins.

A voice cries out:
“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,
    make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be lifted up,
    and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
    and the rough places a plain.
Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
    and all people shall see it together,
    for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”

For me, it wasn’t easy. I cried and prayed nonstop for 10 months. This isn’t an exaggeration. The only time that I wasn’t crying and praying was when I was around other people. After 10 months of this, I noticed my joints getting sore. (I am not a doctor, but at the time I believed it was from all the salt I was losing from my tears.) This really scared me. Still, I had faith Chris and I would die old together. My prayer was this: “God, you have decided to take Chris, my husband, but I am asking you to change your mind.” 

There is much more to the story, but I do not have space to write it. What I can say is this: God is filled with compassion. He feels our tears and hears our cries. He has taught me what this means through his people. I am compelled to do the same for others. Not judging or criticizing, but remembering who I am without Christ, who he wants me to become and who he wants us all to be.  I no longer care about glory and honor for myself. It does tempt me sometimes and then I remind myself whose I am. I don’t need anything else. I would rather be one of his hands to wipe a tear, or his arms to give a hug or his mouth to say an encouraging word. I know I am not worthy of this. None of us are.

Isaiah 40:11 (NIV)

He tends his flock like a shepherd:
    He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
    he gently leads those that have young.

My husband’s tumor stopped growing at around the time of that church service. His jovial personality has remained the same and he lives a normal life. We moved from France and now lead the church in Edmonton, Canada. The last neurosurgeon we saw before leaving France said, “Mr. Stringer, you are going to live a long life.” We have a compassionate God.

Questions:

1. How has God shown compassion to me in my life? Write a list.

2. What are the barriers that keep me from showing compassion for others?