Compassion is tricky for me.
For a lot of years, I’d shrug and flippantly remark that it was simply
“not my gift.”
But the truth is more complicated than that.
Jesus looked into a crowd and felt compassion (Matthew 9:36).
He saw. He felt.
I like to try to wrangle compassion with my mind.
I like to rationalize, to extend grace to the innocents, to the ones who I feel deserve it.
She kneels at his feet, anointing them with her expensive perfume
And her tears.
She is not an innocent.
I hear myself in the disciples’ voices as they protest.
But Jesus, if you really knew…
He sees her. He feels with her.
And his words of life to her are words of challenge to his disciples.
Words of challenge to me.
She loves much because she has been forgiven much.
The truth is, I am not an innocent either.
I don’t deserve this lavish grace.
I too have been forgiven much.
Today, I am praying for compassion that can’t be wrangled with my mind.
For eyes to see. For a heart to feel with.
For grace to love not just the innocents,
But the ones like me.
And forgiven much.