Numerous times in the four Gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John all take note of Jesus’s compassion. Everything in Jesus’s ministry - healing, raising the dead, feeding the multitude, teaching, casting out evil spirits - was fueled by compassion. I think it’s notable that the authors of the Gospel recorded of different times that Jesus was gripped with compassion.
When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Matthew 9:36
When he went ashore he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them and healed their sick. Matthew 14:14
When he went ashore he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. And he began to teach them many things. Mark 6:34
In a way, it’s not that surprising that Jesus was a compassionate person because of what we know of Him, especially considering that He went on to die on the Cross for the world - the ultimate act of compassion. But the disciples, at the time, didn’t have the full picture yet, so there must have been something striking about those moments of compassion that they took notice. I found myself wondering what that looks like - to wear compassion. What did the disciples see in those moments on Jesus that they recognized as compassion?
I think one of the reasons why Jesus took those three years leading up to His death to walk among men and minister was to imprint the power of compassion on the world. Jesus’s compassion gave reason to the many hours of traveling, of teaching, of meeting with all kinds of people. In the beginning, people may have thought that He was just doing this to be cool or to lead people away from Judaism - this is essentially what the Pharisees thought. But that reasoning starts to fade when you look into the extent of Jesus’s ministry. If it was all for fame and power, Jesus was ministering to the wrong crowd. He was going after the broken, the powerless, the needy, the voiceless - those who had nothing to give Him in return, except for maybe their very lives. And I’m sure the disciples were confused as to what Jesus’s endgame was. Sure, He was a great teacher with lots of wisdom and insight and He seemed to have a knack for healing, but the looming question must’ve always been, “Why? All of this for what?” And maybe in those moments of questioning, all the disciples had to give as a reason was that Jesus just seemed to really, really, really care.
Then I was brought to John 21:
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Feed my lambs.” He said to him a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Feed my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.” John 21:15-17
When we read this exchange between Jesus and Peter and when we have similar exchanges with the Lord ourselves, the commands Jesus gives here seem simple enough. We connect this passage a lot to the importance of serving and ministry and how we can’t serve without loving Jesus first. But the ministry Jesus describes here for Peter is essentially the ministry He had been doing all along with Peter beside him for the past three years. Holding onto that and bringing in the previous verses about how the core of Jesus’s ministry was compassion, Jesus isn’t just inviting Peter here to just do the things that he saw Jesus do, but Jesus is inviting Peter to carry on His legacy of compassion.
This shifted the way I see and do ministry in a fundamental way. I used to read John 21 as simple action items - “If I love Jesus and I am a follower of Jesus, I should serve in ministry.” I’m not saying that that mindset is wrong; it’s a truth I needed in previous seasons. But after years of serving with different people and in different capacities, I felt like there was something more that I needed to step into. I knew that I could keep doing what I’m doing and continue to get better at it, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something. That’s when Jesus brought me to John 21 and revealed to me that the ministry He was inviting Peter to - and in turn inviting me into - is not just something to do mindlessly until He comes back; but it’s an invitation to be a part of releasing and restoring compassion.
I’m not going to give you some general definition of compassion because it can mean different things to different people and no online definition felt sufficient enough to fully encapsulate what compassion is. But to me, compassion simply means to care. Jesus is asking me to care about His sheep and this world the way that He cares for them. And I couldn’t bring myself to answer to that. Why? Because I know that Jesus’s compassion and His level of care is unlike anything we see in the world. Jesus’s compassion is radical and it’s not limited by social or cultural constructs. Jesus’s compassion looks at those marked as unworthy by the world and says they’re sons and daughters of the Most High King. Jesus’s compassion looks at me, someone who was marked by selfishness, and says I have the capacity and power to steward compassion. Jesus’s compassion is wholly created and sustained by grace. To partner with Jesus in His compassion for our neighbors and the world is a gift and a privilege. But so often we treat it like a burden or a chore.
I believe that compassion is planted in our hearts and minds by receiving it first. The compassion you receive and experience shapes the compassion you give and carry. The only perfect compassion I know and have received is the Gospel. If we take Jesus’s compassion out of the Gospel, then it becomes meaningless to us on a individual level. I think one of the biggest questions when it comes to the Gospel is “Why?” to which the answer is always “because He loves”.
In John 21, Peter is completely undone by the Gospel. He’s not just feeling guilty for his denial of Jesus a few days before, but he’s also completely floored by the compassion of the Cross. The compassion he noticed in Jesus’s ministry for the sick and rejected is now his. Knowing Peter, he probably didn’t fully understand his own need of saving until that moment. He saw Jesus ministering to people much less fortunate and broken than he was, and so his idea of ministry may have been limited to those who are going through hard circumstances. Even with his acknowledgement of Jesus as Messiah for the Jews, he probably just understood that as a historical prophecy coming true and that Jesus was going to save Israel from the Romans. But when he witnesses the Cross and the Resurrection, he realizes that it’s so much more than that and that Jesus was, in fact, pursuing after him - not just the poor, not just his nation, not just the sick, but also for Peter’s very soul. Jesus completely undoes Peter’s idea of compassion and ministry by pouring it over Peter first and it’s from that place of utter humility that Jesus empowers Peter to ministry. It’s powerful and deep that Jesus chose this moment to declare the truth that Peter is called to ministry. It’s when Peter is still reeling from the sting of his own self-disappointment and failures that Jesus declares he’s a shepherd. The Gospel rings true to Peter in the deepest parts of his identity as he realizes that his love for Jesus and his place in ministry aren’t earned and sustained by his actions or deeds.
We can do a lot of good deeds, but compassion isn’t something we just do and compassion doesn’t start and end with our good deeds. I think we sometimes think that and so we try really hard to prove to others, to God, and ultimately to ourselves that we are compassionate people, but it’s not long before that runs out. The crazy thing I’ve come to discover about the Kingdom, and I think Peter discovered this too, is that we are called to carry compassion, not of our own, but of Another. Peter understood that this compassion and this ministry is never meant to be his own or credited to his own righteousness, but wholly belongs to Jesus; it’s through amazing grace that Peter can even partner with this compassion.
When I read about Jesus’s ministry of compassion, it confounds any and every selfish motive I have for serving and loving others. I think the beauty of His compassion is that it doesn’t make sense to us, but we can’t deny our need for it. Mankind has always craved a compassion like His, a compassion of supernatural origin, a compassion not of our own, but of a Humble King. As we receive that in the form of a Savior on a cross, He takes it one step further and tells us we’re not able to carry and spread this compassion to the ends of the earth.
I first wrote this post in response to the need for compassion in our world right now. But, let’s be honest, our world has always needed compassion and it will continue to be in need of it. That’s not new. But what I think we actually need is a refreshment of the truth that we are able and empowered to be a part of restoring compassion to those who still live in separation from their Savior. There are many of us, including me, who feel overwhelmed and inundated by the world’s cry for help, for love, for compassion - especially from the Church. We know and see what we need to do, but, like Peter, we can’t get past our own failures. Peter failed Jesus because he was relying on his own ideas of love and serving.
I write this now to tell you that Jesus is walking beside you now and simply asking you to confess your love for Him. Maybe you’ve confessed it many, many times before, like Peter, so Jesus should know how much you love Him already. But confess it to Him again, not to remind Him, but to remind yourself. He’s whispering, Because you love Me, I know you love My sheep. I know you’re able to feed and tend My sheep in the ways I would. Lift up your head, receive My mercy again, and let’s keep going.
