What does desperation look like? Perhaps a mob of hopeful deal-seekers running through the Walmart doors at 6am on Black Friday, desperately grabbing toasters and tablets? Or maybe that doesn’t sound like true desperation to you, but when I see the footage of black Friday mobs on the news, their faces look desperate. But maybe we can be more sympathetic to the times we have seen desperation in more dire situations. Like after the Haiti earthquake when people who had just lost everything crowded around distribution trucks desperately hoping for something that would quench their thirst and fill their bellies just to get through another day. Or after the earthquake in Nepal as rescuers desperately sorted through rubble hoping to make it to survivors in time.
While most of us have probably never been in an earthquake like that or pushed and shoved our way toward a black Friday discount, we still can probably think of times we have witnessed desperation. Times when we have seen a loved one in pain, or maybe watched someone give an apology with true regret and shame.
The scenes described in the Gospel reading for today sound desperate. People running by foot from distant towns. And in the section not read today, 5,000 hungry people with only five loaves and two fish. People carrying the sick on mats …begging to touch the cloak of Jesus. Sheep without a shepherd. When I picture these scenes I see that desperation, the look of despair I have seen on the faces of those in pain- in need … teetering on the edge of hopelessness.
When we see that hopelessness and despair in another we have to make a decision about what we will do. We may chose to ignore it, which might sound callous and cold but sometimes it’s also just reality. If we agonize over every desperate situation we see on the news or our hearts break over every person who asks us for help then we will live in a constant state of sadness and pain. So sometimes we change the channel, continue on to check our email or politely nod and carry on. Some days we go through life as survivors, putting one foot in front of the other, carrying on, trudging through even when those around us are falling. So yeah, we might ignore the desperation of others from time to time, but we are human, we can only take so much. Maybe we’ve become desensitized, overwhelmed or too blinded by our own hurts, whatever the reason, I just don’t think we can be everything that everyone needs.
There are other times though when the hopelessness of others causes us to feel guilty, or maybe even angry. How can there be hungry people in the world while we throw away leftovers? How does the way we live contribute to the hunger of others? Maybe we think of all the things we should do, or the things others should do. How can the world be so unjust? So painful?
And then there are times when we join in. When our hearts break with the brokenhearted, when our resources or talents can help relieve the pain of others. When we can be helpful and maybe even change a situation. Those are the times we remember, when we feel like a hero, when we feel useful and needed.
It is hard to figure out what to do when others are in pain or desperate. And unfortunately we will see so much of it in our lives. Sometimes we make the right decision, sometimes we make the wrong one and sometimes we just keep surviving. But we do know how Jesus reacted when he saw those scenes of desperation. We know that when he sees the weary and hungry disciples he invites them to take a break, come and rest. When he sees the hungry crowds he breaks the bread and feeds them. When he sees people carrying the sick on mats, begging to touch his cloak he heals them. And when he sees the people on the shore like “sheep without a shepherd” he has compassion for them. Jesus acts with compassion.
This is a model that we can follow. When I think of my best moments in parenting, pastoring, being a friend and being a spouse, they are all motivated by compassion. When my three year old is refusing to listen, freaking out over what I say, pushing the limits or just being difficult- if I can have compassion for him I know our day will go much better. When I let frustration get the best of me then I yell or become mean or spend my day exhausted and disconnected. When I look at him and see the tiny, helpless person he is with a great heart, a desire to please me and the best hugs in the world I can act with compassion. Which doesn’t mean letting him get his way or never disciplining, but rather doing so with love and compassion rather than frustration and anger. It always goes much better that way. We spend the day more in tune with each other, more connected and happier.
The same was true when I was pastoring a church. People can be difficult. When someone’s harsh words, resistance to change or unwillingness to grow made me angry I tried my best to look at them with compassion. Remember they are loved by God, I am called to love them, they are hurting, they want to feel loved … Otherwise I would act too quickly, too harshly and spend my day feeling frustrated, exhausted and quickly burn out.
I believe that compassion is a huge part of any successful relationship. When we lose it we turn the other person into an enemy, an emotionless opponent or a frustrating obstacle. When we are compassionate we can see God at work in them, find ways they are calling us to growth and love and allow our hearts to be widened.
Jesus has compassion and that is a model for us to live by, something for us to strive for. If we can reflect back compassion when we see desperation in the faces of others then we can minister to them, be the face of Christ for them and live our lives with more love, more peace and feeling more connected to others.
But beyond a model for us to follow, the fact that Jesus has compassion for the people tells us something about God that I think is really important. Jesus is compassionate and God revealed to us in Jesus Christ is compassionate. This is who God is. No matter what others try to tell us about God, no matter the state of the world or the state of the hearts around us … God is compassionate. And that is something we can hold on to.
I’ve got to tell you, it’s been a rough summer for me. A couple of weeks ago a close friend of mine died from cancer. She was my age, had three wonderful little children and a loving husband. She was an amazing person, incredibly well-loved, popular and I loved her. I met her when I was the pastor of Woodville United Methodist Church. She was diagnosed with breast cancer right before I left to go on family leave. We stayed in touch and became friends, had play dates and continued to deepen our bond. We connected spiritually and always seemed to understand each other. After treatment and surgeries ended and all seemed to be well again … the cancer came back. She knew it was terminal. Our visits changed in tone a bit. We planned her funeral together, cried together, talked about death. About a month ago her liver died from the chemo. The end was near.
The journey over the past month was hard. Somehow her faith was rock solid which somehow kept mine rock solid. On June 29 she took a turn. She was moved to Hospice and I got there as fast as I could. I held her hand as she breathed her last breath. I went home, put the kids to bed and sat in the dark …my head spinning. Emotions, questions, images running through me. I felt mad, I felt alone, I felt incredibly sad. I didn’t want to pray. I didn’t want to attempt sleep. A friend offered comforting words … “lean into God” she said. I didn’t want to, but I also didn’t feel like I had a choice. Where was God? Who was God? Why did this happen? What next? And I remembered… God is compassionate. I would never understand the rest. I would never figure out the meaning of life. I would never fully know what happens after this life, but I could wrap my mind around compassion. Because that is what I felt when I looked at her friends and family as they grieved. That is what God was feeling. That brought me comfort. It made sense to me. It brought me rest.
A week later I stood in front of 600 plus people at her funeral and proclaimed the Gospel. I said the familiar words of the funeral liturgy announcing resurrection, hope and peace. Words of comfort, words of promise. I fought the lump in my throat and warm tears behind my eyes and preached my heart out. Because as I stood there in front of that big crowd of people, I saw desperation in their faces. There was pain, there was hurt, some teetering on the edge of hopelessness. And I had compassion for them. We could have been like sheep without a shepherd, but as our quivering voices sang together the words of the hymns Laura chose for us, we proclaimed things like amazing grace, resurrection joy and hope into eternity. We proclaimed a God who is present even in the darkness.
What got me through and what continues to get me through …and what will get me through this crazy life we lead, this life of ups and downs, joy and despair …is knowing that God is compassionate. God has compassion for us. That is a truth that I will proclaim and that I will hold onto with a clenched fist until I too enter into the big compassionate heart of God for all of eternity.
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