Compassion is a Balancing Act

In seminary we spent an inordinate amount of time discussing theological jots and tittles, such as the need for the adjective “personal” when referring to the Savior, as in “I have accepted Jesus as my personal Savior. Some said the modifier was unnecessary; Jesus made salvation possible individually and communally. Others contended that through Christ God met us personally, one on one, uniquely addressing our sinfulness and our need for forgiveness., and we should be clear about it from the beginning. I confess to being in the former group. I was more concerned with the result than I was with God’s methodology, and for me these conversations about a personal Savior joined a long list of topics that couldn’t be proved one way or another. 

That was true until recently, when I began to see God as my personal antagonist. The awareness surfaced in worship when our pastor, Steve Fawver, addressed the subject of compassion. For the past several weeks he has focused on portions of Henri Nouwen’s book, With Open Hands. The chapter “Prayer and Compassion” states, “Prayer can never be antisocial or asocial. Whenever we pray and leave out our neighbors, our prayer is not real prayer.” (82)

The message coincided with the horrific fires burning in California, both north and south, where a multitude have lost their lives, thousands have lost their homes, and thousands more are under evacuation orders. But to understand my sense of God as my personal adversary I need to step back several years.

In 2012 fire ravaged the Mountain Shadows neighborhood where we lived in Colorado Springs. In what was an historical event at the time over 350 homes were destroyed. The number was record-setting. If I were to identify pivotal life moments, the fire in Mountain Shadows would be included - with our marriage, our children’s births, my ordination (1973), and my first car (a 1965 Ford Fairlane).

And our home, along with 5 others on the street, survived the fire. The rest of the subdivision lay in ruins. We had substantial damage, but our insurance covered it all. For those whose homes had burned I had a great deal of empathy. I thought that was enough. But as Edwin Friedman points out in A Failure of Nerve, 

On the one hand, there can be no question that the notion of feeling for others, caring for others, identifying with others, being responsive to others, and perhaps even sharing their pain exquisitely or excruciatingly is heartfelt, humanitarian, highly spiritual, and an essential component in a leader’s response repertoire. But it has rarely been my experience that being sensitive to others will enable those “others” to be more self-aware, that being more “understanding” of others causes them to mature, or that appreciating the plight of others will make them more responsible for their being, their condition, or their destiny. (137)

An incident from the California fires stresses the point. I heard about a woman who was driving through the flames trying to escape when the traffic came to a stop, the fire came toward her, and she finally called her husband on her cell phone and said, “I don’t think I’m going to make it. I’m going to die here.” He said, “Don’t die without fighting. Get out and run.” She did, and she survived. It was empathy with stern advice. I believe in the aftermath of the Mountain Shadows fire I was very empathetic, but less concerned about being actively involved. I felt bad for the fire victims. I really did. I even gave them some money. Such generosity. I could have done more.

And excessive empathy wasn’t my greatest shortcoming. It was a lack of humility. Down deep I reasoned that our home survived, and it was our effort that made it so. We had taken out a “good” insurance policy, one that covered all the possibilities. We had worked hard to have enough money to make the payments. I even had a back-up plan. I took pictures of every room, all of our belongings, just in case the house burned and the insurance company quibbled with us. Woe unto those who don’t photograph their stuff. 

When we had to evacuate the neighborhood we had friends who took us in, who fed us, who gave us a room to stay in, because after all we were good, nice people whom others would feed and shelter. We knew we had a safety net. 

And most important we had stood, prior to the evacuation orders, in our driveway with other friends and prayed for our home and our safety before we hopped in the car. Surely not everyone had done that, and surely it was a sign to God of our faithfulness. A part of me (that I prefer to keep hidden) felt we had been rewarded in kind. Their homes burned and ours didn’t.

Then God the Antagonist began to show up.  In retrospect the first appearance was last summer when California was previously burning (It seems California is always burning) and I started with the snarky prayers. “Lord God, the smoke from these fires is making me really uncomfortable. It’s annoying. It makes my eyes water.” And God said, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Your attitude is not good, and your priorities are out of whack. Maybe I should show you really watery eyes.” 

Recently, as the destruction in California has become greater and the death toll has increased, God’s presence has become more frequent. God my Antagonist. I can’t decide if God has gently taken my chin in hand to look me in the eye, or put me on the ground with a divine foot on my neck. Maybe it’s some of each. This is the God about whom the Psalmist said, “You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me,” (139:5) and has said to me, “You can do better than this. Three hundred and fifty homes are a pittance, and yours in Colorado certainly wasn’t at the center of all things. Neither are you.”

I am more and more convinced that compassion is a balancing act. It is empathy and action. Or as 1 John puts it, “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.  If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person?  Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.” (3:16-18)

Pastor Mike