When Jesus saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Matthew 9:36
A friend wrote recently: “There’s nothing quite like the city centre on the Friday before Christmas to make you long for the extinction of the human race...”
Ouch! Don’t worry - he’s a thoroughly nice chap really, if somewhat given to exaggeration.
And, of course, he has a point. People, especially in large numbers, can be intensely irritating. In fact, I tend to feel that a football match is probably even worse than the crowded town centre - all the cursing, swearing and ugly chanting; the selfish people who insist on standing up in front of your children so they just can’t see; the mindless passion channelled towards something that, ultimately, really just doesn’t matter. Ugh!
And then there’s the person who sits next to you on the bus eating smelly food or tormenting you with tinny earphones or loud phone calls or making no attempt to control their children. I could go on... Grrr!
Make no mistake, I’m just as annoyable as the next person; my patience can wear thin pretty quickly. (And, of course, I would never cause annoyance to others, would I?) So I have a lot of sympathy for my friend. Yes, this world would be a truly lovely place if it weren’t for all those other people.
But we have to live in it the way it is, not the way we would like it to be, so we might as well get used to it.
When I find myself feeling like my friend, I have a go-to Bible verse I try (not always successfully, I’m afraid) to bring to mind: “When Jesus saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (Matthew 9:36).
Isn’t that just beautiful? - he “had compassion on them”.
That’s a striking expression: the original Greek uses a word that refers to your “gut” or even your “bowels”. There are times, when we are experiencing some high or extreme emotion, when our very stomachs seem to churn over inside us. And Matthew seems to be suggesting that that’s how it was for Jesus on that occasion (and, of course, many others too).
At Christmas we focus very much on the sheer humanness of Jesus: born as a helpless baby. This humanness didn’t end as he grew up: no, as a man he could be weary and hungry, he knew tears, pain and anguish (yes, what pain! and what anguish!).
And this means there were times he felt impatient with people, even those he loved. His disciples could be so dense! - why couldn’t they understand? When he went off once, presumably for a bit of peace and recuperation, he seems not to have been pleased to have someone disturb him, even treating her quite sharply (Matthew 15:21-28). But, of course, he never gave way to such a mood; his tenderness and compassion were limitless.
And so on this occasion in Matthew 9, part of a preaching and teaching tour around Galilee, we can picture him viewing the crowds thronging around for words and deeds of healing, with his heart sinking. He could have felt resentment or irritation. But no, whatever his tiredness... he “had compassion on them”.
So how can we make this beautiful little verse our own?
The answer, in principle, is simplicity itself: turn it into a prayer: “Lord Jesus, help me to see these people with your eyes, to feel for them your compassion. Help me to understand that they are harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Help me to pity rather than despise them...”
If I manage to breathe such a silent prayer (sometimes I fail) I find that it makes a difference straight away; oh, the people don’t change, but I do. And isn’t that what matters most?
This world is full of lost souls. I don’t mean “lost” in the sense of “heading straight for hell” (let’s leave that judgment to the God who knows all things), but in the sense of leaderless or rudderless, like children lost in a forest.
Putting it more accurately, they do have leaders - but leaders who lead them astray; and rudders - but rudders permanently jammed in the wrong position. What hope do they have but to be shown the right way, and led to the right leader, even Jesus himself.
And whose responsibility is it to do that if not yours and mine?
Lord Jesus, you are the Good Shepherd. So... Soften my heart, Lord,/ Soften my heart. / From all indifference/ Set me apart;/ To feel your compassion,/ To weep with your tears./ Come , soften my heart, O Lord,/ Soften my heart. Amen.
(Graham Kendrick)
A friend wrote recently: “There’s nothing quite like the city centre on the Friday before Christmas to make you long for the extinction of the human race...”
Ouch! Don’t worry - he’s a thoroughly nice chap really, if somewhat given to exaggeration.
And, of course, he has a point. People, especially in large numbers, can be intensely irritating. In fact, I tend to feel that a football match is probably even worse than the crowded town centre - all the cursing, swearing and ugly chanting; the selfish people who insist on standing up in front of your children so they just can’t see; the mindless passion channelled towards something that, ultimately, really just doesn’t matter. Ugh!
And then there’s the person who sits next to you on the bus eating smelly food or tormenting you with tinny earphones or loud phone calls or making no attempt to control their children. I could go on... Grrr!
Make no mistake, I’m just as annoyable as the next person; my patience can wear thin pretty quickly. (And, of course, I would never cause annoyance to others, would I?) So I have a lot of sympathy for my friend. Yes, this world would be a truly lovely place if it weren’t for all those other people.
But we have to live in it the way it is, not the way we would like it to be, so we might as well get used to it.
When I find myself feeling like my friend, I have a go-to Bible verse I try (not always successfully, I’m afraid) to bring to mind: “When Jesus saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (Matthew 9:36).
Isn’t that just beautiful? - he “had compassion on them”.
That’s a striking expression: the original Greek uses a word that refers to your “gut” or even your “bowels”. There are times, when we are experiencing some high or extreme emotion, when our very stomachs seem to churn over inside us. And Matthew seems to be suggesting that that’s how it was for Jesus on that occasion (and, of course, many others too).
At Christmas we focus very much on the sheer humanness of Jesus: born as a helpless baby. This humanness didn’t end as he grew up: no, as a man he could be weary and hungry, he knew tears, pain and anguish (yes, what pain! and what anguish!).
And this means there were times he felt impatient with people, even those he loved. His disciples could be so dense! - why couldn’t they understand? When he went off once, presumably for a bit of peace and recuperation, he seems not to have been pleased to have someone disturb him, even treating her quite sharply (Matthew 15:21-28). But, of course, he never gave way to such a mood; his tenderness and compassion were limitless.
And so on this occasion in Matthew 9, part of a preaching and teaching tour around Galilee, we can picture him viewing the crowds thronging around for words and deeds of healing, with his heart sinking. He could have felt resentment or irritation. But no, whatever his tiredness... he “had compassion on them”.
So how can we make this beautiful little verse our own?
The answer, in principle, is simplicity itself: turn it into a prayer: “Lord Jesus, help me to see these people with your eyes, to feel for them your compassion. Help me to understand that they are harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Help me to pity rather than despise them...”
If I manage to breathe such a silent prayer (sometimes I fail) I find that it makes a difference straight away; oh, the people don’t change, but I do. And isn’t that what matters most?
This world is full of lost souls. I don’t mean “lost” in the sense of “heading straight for hell” (let’s leave that judgment to the God who knows all things), but in the sense of leaderless or rudderless, like children lost in a forest.
Putting it more accurately, they do have leaders - but leaders who lead them astray; and rudders - but rudders permanently jammed in the wrong position. What hope do they have but to be shown the right way, and led to the right leader, even Jesus himself.
And whose responsibility is it to do that if not yours and mine?
Lord Jesus, you are the Good Shepherd. So... Soften my heart, Lord,/ Soften my heart. / From all indifference/ Set me apart;/ To feel your compassion,/ To weep with your tears./ Come , soften my heart, O Lord,/ Soften my heart. Amen.
(Graham Kendrick)
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