Look to Ruth
I am not a compassionate person. I have need to be instructed on how to better feel the pain of others and enter into it.
Jesus got his compassion for people from His Father in heaven. Humanly speaking, this characteristic was in His genes. Matthew’s record of Jesus’ family tree names three women, which was not the norm. One of these women was Ruth, who, as a widowed foreigner and refugee, returns with her mother-in-law Naomi to her husband’s home town, Bethlehem. Ruth’s compassion is a type of Christ and a model for us. The story of her compassion is found in Ruth 1:10-22.
Three women – two young and one older – are pulling everything they own in a cart. Life has pummelled them. They have begun a long journey on foot. From the fields of Moab to Bethlehem in Judah it’s a journey of 70 kilometers. Not far from the border they stop for a rest.
All of a sudden, the older woman gets up and cries out, “This is senseless! Go back to your families! Stay in your homeland! There’s no future for you with me. I am used up. My life is over. But you have your whole lives in front of you. Be sensible! Go back! Why should your lives end with mine?
Her short speech is incisive and persuasive. A light dawns in the mind of one of the two younger women, and she replies, “You’re right. It really is senseless for me to go with you into the unknown. You make a good case. I’m turning back. Take care!”
So, one of the younger women leaves. The other remains silent. Ruth has decided not to turn back. Come what may, she’s not going to leave her battered, bitter, hopeless mother-in-law.
How foolish! What kind of young person couples their life to that of a person with no future? In our lives we encounter people whose lives have been trashed. They have gone through one defeat after another. The difficulties they’ve experienced have made them into difficult people. We may chat with them about this and that, but on the inside, we shut down. We really don’t want to have anything more to do with people like this. They’re just too difficult. But compassion knows no such barriers.
Compassion Doesn’t Pay
Of the two younger women, Orpa is the smart one. We would consider her a strong woman. She knows what she wants and what’s good for her. After all, who signs up voluntarily for limits and restrictions? Even her mother-in-law Naomi appeals to common sense. Three times she pleads for her daughters-in-law to turn back. Because she knows: compassion they may show her won’t pay off.
Compassion is insane
Naomi’s arguments are compelling. She’s too old to re-marry. And even if she does re-marry, she’s certainly too old to have any more children. She has no more sons, and she won’t have any more in the future, who could be potential husbands for her daughters-in-law.
To put it plainly: if these women accompany Naomi, they will have neither husbands nor children. In that culture, that was fatal. A woman without a husband and without children, who could care for her, had no rights and no protection. She would be on the very bottom rung of society. Economically, financially, practically speaking, these women had no future with Naomi. It wouldn’t pay off to stay with her.
Not only in terms of economics but also in terms of emotions, it would not be easy to stay with Naomi (Ruth 1:20). Naomi was returning to her old home town bankrupt – financially and emotionally. She went to the town hall and applied for a name change. She wanted to change her name so that everyone would know how she was doing. Naomi means “pleasant,” but she felt very unpleasant and wanted to be called Mara, “bitter” (embittered). Life had left a bitter aftertaste in her soul.
It’s no fun to live with an embittered person. Such people pose a significant barrier to the expression of compassion. But people like Ruth know how to overcome it instead of being overcome by it.
Compassion is usually crazy. There are always good reasons why we shouldn’t get involved with people in difficult circumstances.
Compassion Costs
Compassion is like making a phone call when you’ve already used up all your minutes. Every additional minute costs you more. There’s no such thing as compassion without sacrifice. Ruth considered the costs. Realistically, it wasn’t worth it. What would she have to give up? Her homeland, language, culture, hopes for marriage, security, and happiness.
Anyone who gets involved in serving others will find themselves spent. They will pay their own deductible so that others can receive a dividend. The question, “What do I get out of this?” is irrelevant. When compassion asks this question, it ceases to be compassion.
Compassion is God-like
Compassion doesn’t pay. It’s insane. It’s costly. But it’s godly. God turns all our human values upside down. What the world may find to be a debit, God may see as a valuable asset.
Ruth’s behavior toward Naomi mirror’s God’s behavior toward us. God is by nature compassionate: “The Lord is patient and full of lovingkindness” (Numbers 14:18).
“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness” (Lamentations 3:22-23). Every morning you receive a fresh load of God’s compassion delivered without charge to your front door!
Compassion is not the result of any formula. It is the unearned gift of God to us. The only requirement is that we find ourselves in a miserable situation. We’re in need and are powerless to help ourselves. Many times, it’s our own fault. We’ve painted ourselves into a corner and now there’s no way out. In just these kinds of situations, God shows up. In his compassion He offers us first of all Himself, and secondarily His help. That’s grace: God is on our side with His love and grace, through thick and thin. That is fundamentally illogical. Insane. And it is costly. Moved by His great compassion, Jesus went to the cross for us. Compassion is fundamentally God-like. That’s the way God is and the way God behaves.
Call to action
To become more compassionate toward those in misery I need to be stirred. Pray with me this prayer: “Lord of mercy, have mercy on me for not seeing, for not feeling the hopelessness of others. Open my eyes, quicken my heart, move my body toward the downcast of my world.”
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