Where was I?
Oh, right. I was telling you how I write and think about you. Sometimes anyway. I ended by suggesting that God thinks about you and what might help you.
If you are like me, you read that and thought, “Sure. A nice idea. But I bet God’s usually pretty annoyed with me.” Right?
So I thought of a story that we both might need.
Jesus is traveling around Galilee, way up north of Jerusalem. He went to Nain, a little town less than three miles from Nazareth.
Nazareth was where Jesus grew up. For most of his life, he had been in this neighborhood. And now he goes to Nain. And so do his disciples. And so does a large crowd.
When Jesus and his large crowd get to the town gate, they run into a large crowd coming out. That large crowd is led by a dead guy. A young man. A son.
He’s the only son of a widow, the last hope of support she had. And now he’s dead.
I picture the collision of these crowds. It’s easier these days, having watched college teams after bowl games. One team is thrilled, the other devastated. They mingle, sometimes touching, sometimes leaving space for the grieving.
As the funeral procession comes out of the gate, one person from the Jesus procession steps forward. It’s Jesus. He looks at the body, at the woman, at the crowd. He is moved with compassion.
“Don’t cry,” he says.
What an odd thing to say to this woman who may have been a friend of his mother. What was she supposed to do?
He had one more thing to say. “Get up.” That to the son. And the son does.
So back to you and me. Maybe he still cares?
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300 words a day 
Cheryl Smith
Yes, maybe He still cares.
This same phrase about Jesus being moved with compassion, has been on my mind since Peter and I read it together last week in a different setting – maybe the feeding of the 5000. Anyway, I keep thinking of how His compassion moved Him to meet the needs of those around Him.
I want that same kind of compassion, and at the same time, if I’m honest with myself, I’m afraid to ask for it because it’s costly. I wonder if I’m up for the task. Willing. And my flesh screams out.
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Jon Swanson
Two things went through my head. 1. a study of the times that Jesus was moved with compassion would be interesting. There are several. and 2. wouldn’t he have compassion as he looks at your desire FOR compassion? Mighten’t he respond… compassionately?
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Stephanie
I love this story! The widow (to our knowledge) says nothing. She is in deep grief. I assume she didn’t even notice Jesus’ crowd because she was crying so hard. Yet, Christ is moved. He hates seeing our pain. His compassion overflows. So he comforts and raises the dead. What a foreshadowing — Christ has come so that we all might live!
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Jon Swanson
I am grateful for your insight into the grief. Well said. You understand.
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Rich Dixon
We confront two issues–believing Jesus was God and that He was a man.
I think the gospel writers were primarily concerned with the former, but I struggle with the latter.
Sometimes my friends cringe when I emphasize Jesus’ humanity, the facts of His living within the confinement of a human body and the limits of a human brain. But He also experienced the emotions of a human heart–not a detached, “I’m-bigger-than-you-are” kind of compassion but a real, live, hurting heart.
I picture Him in that living room with His Dad, telling Him what that ache felt like.
I hope it’s not disrespectful, but the reality of Jesus as a human feels so powerful to me.
Does that make sense to all of you?
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Jon Swanson
Rich, i wonder if maybe John was concerned with the former and the rest with the latter. Either way, I am grateful for your focus. I find no disrespect in your reflections. Ever.
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