Compassion

In my conversation with her tonight, I found her to be genuine. She may not be seeking Christ, but she understands the kind of comisserate, compassionate love that He sought from His followers--in ways that I have yet to fully know! Her idea of life is that, rather than being about who people are or what they're doing, the point of life is to have a compassionate willingness to see other people's point of view. She talked about letting people be happy, no matter what they find their happiness in. She shared the story about her sister: They had been so close growing up and then her sister became a Christian and wouldn't talk with her for years. She just wanted her sister to love her as a sister, not because she shared the same beliefs; she hoped that her sister would see her as truly happy.

When He came to Earth, Jesus was outspoken against the Religious of His day; I find myself to be the Religious of mine. He took them to task because in their piety they failed to see humanity and wouldn't stoop low enough to love. The woman caught in adultery He released from shame when He said, "Then neither do I condemn you." He taught us to be fishers of men, to love through the spirit of the law and not the letter. This doesn't mean that I agree with them; it just means that I don't condemn them. It means to allow the Spirit of Christ to bring them to the place of mercy. Scripture says there is no partiality with Him--mercy is theirs for the asking. I feel like the Prodigal Son's brother or the men in one of Jesus' parables whom the farmer hires at the beginning of the day: proud of my own standing but bitterly angry at the now-right standing of others.

When she first met me, this woman felt judged by me--in the same manner that her sister had judged her. I could do nothing to deny that because I knew it to be true! The Apostle Paul said it right: to be all things to all men. I am not all things to all men because I lack the willingness to put aside my spiritual pride and my longing to be right long enough to see them as they are and to give them the credibility of being human. In my stiff piety, I look down my nose at those who don't observe the same rules as I do. I'm disconnected from them in a way that this woman is not. She makes me think of the worship chorus "At the Cross" differently. I always thought the song somehow only had to do with the religious elite, but now I see that it speaks of people being persecuted by the religious elite! "Accused and condemned"--accused by me! My friend Brenda's comment to me in a recent email was, in essence, what makes me think I'm any different?

If my piety, my desire to be separate from the lost, keeps me from understanding them or developing relationships that can withstand the weight of truth, then what is it good for? I still can't do it! I still can't love like He does--my love is conditional! My love does not cover a multitude of sins because it doesn't want to soil itself. My love points out the wrongs of others and highlights them, focusing on the distinctions. I only love those who love me. My love is withouth the compassion that this woman seeks! I want so much to love like Jesus does, but I don't. He has compassion on us because He knows what it's like to be human; this woman understands that because she knows what it's like, too. But Religion? It denies its own humanity.