When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. (Matthew 9:36, ESV)
All of us have rotten days on the course. Your driver is working, yet your short game disappears. Your putter is hot, but you couldn’t hit a green if your life depended on it. You rack your brain for a swing thought that will get you through the round. Nothing materializes.
As Ben Crenshaw once lamented, “Golf is the hardest game in the world. There is no way you can ever get it. Just when you think you do, the game jumps up and puts you in your place.”
A few years back, during a best-ball tournament, my partner turned to me in the tenth fairway and said, “It’s time for you to contribute. I’ve carried you longer than your mother!” I chuckled! Truth be told, I was dying inside.
It’s one thing for us to struggle personally. It is an entirely different matter to watch a friend’s struggle. After leaving a few in the greenside bunker, an old friend said, “One day, I will write a book entitled—Out of the Trap in Four Easy Swings.” He laughed to hide his pain, not to mention his embarrassment.
We watch our buddies make mid-round swing adjustments, but it usually doesn’t work. Helplessly, we watch as they rehearse various swing motions. Sadly, these efforts don’t help either. Mutual friends intervene, offering conflicting swing advice. Well-meaning though they are, this confusion only exacerbates the problem.
Then, there is the rollercoaster of pulling for a particular tour player. It was almost impossible not to feel compassion for Greg Norman when he lost the Masters to Faldo. Leading by six going into the final day, it wasn’t long before everyone knew it wasn’t going to be his day. Gut-wrenching doesn’t begin to describe the feeling.
I once asked the late Doug Sanders, “the Peacock of the Fairways,” how often he thought about missing that short putt on the seventy-second hole to win The Open. With visible pain in his eyes and voice, he responded, “Every night when I go to sleep.” How could I not feel compassion?
God reveals himself in Scripture as a compassionate Father (Psalm 78:38; Luke 15:20; James 5:11, et al). Yahweh’s compassion is not merely an abstraction for theologians to debate. God as a compassionate Father is a reality to experience, revel in, and richly treasure in worship and adoration.
John the Apostle tells us the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. Of all the things we could say about this story, none is more important than what it teaches us about Jesus. In the shortest verse in the bible (John 11:35), we read, “Jesus wept.” He knew he was about to raise Lazarus from the dead. Why weep?
Early in the story, the sisters send messengers telling Jesus that “the one you love is sick.” Jesus observes his friends, Mary, and Martha, weeping over the loss of their brother. He sees the others weeping too. We read repeatedly that Jesus was deeply moved by their grief.
Jesus weeping for his friends reveals what all of us hoped would be true—Jesus cares deeply for his own. Jesus’ weeping at the death of Lazarus is a visible manifestation of his indescribable compassion and inexpressible love. Since Jesus is the “exact imprint” of the Father’s nature, he is showing us that the Father is compassionate (Hebrews 1:1-3).
Once we taste his infinitely sweet compassion in our soul, it is almost impossible not to show that to others!
To state the obvious, we live in trying times. May Christ use us to show his tender mercies to those who are hurting.
Prayer – Father, lead us to those who are like sheep without a shepherd. Move through us to bring healing and help to the helpless.