Broken Compassion

Some days seem determined to remind us how broken life is. That kind of day seems longer, the skies seem grayer and the sweetness seems to be sucked out of our favorite things.

I don’t like those kinds of days. . . and the past two weeks seemed to be full of them.

Broken things: I’ve talked about some, worked on some, prayed through some, cried because of some and even smiled at one.

Broken things require attention. It may need repair or correction or additional focus but it demands attention. Because something that wasn’t broken now is. That which was whole is now cracked. Things that were solid are now . . . not . . . so . . . much. 

It may be health or dreams or hearts or bones or plans or promises or schedules or finances or records or relationships or your favorite cup.

(Yes, I know that was a monster run-on sentence and long list. . . but I bet you could say, “Hey, you left out mine” and then you might add a few of your own broken things to my list.)

I’ll write it again: Some days seem determined to remind us how broken life is. And—When something is broken it demands attention.

The car must be fixed. The heart must learn to go on. The schedule must be reworked. The doctor must be consulted. The plans must be adjusted.

Life screams, “Pay attention! Something’s wrong!”

It is foolish to deny what I see and feel and try to project, “I am strong enough to dodge the pain” and act like I can avoid the brokenness of life.

I can do it but it only makes the gray skies darker. Turn to the broken thing; embrace the pain because it’s an inevitable part of life.

Life screams when broken things hit our radar, especially of the serious type. That’s when a good dose of compassion quiets the screaming, soothes our feelings and makes the brokenness much easier to face.

Compassion is an antidote for the self-pity or depressing sense of isolation that may creep into our psyches when the hurts of brokenness dig deeply into our soul. Broken things rarely leave us emotionally unscathed.

We become unglued when our life gets broken. Compassion given from one who perceives our need and responds to address our need is a welcome and longed-for relief. Compassion isn’t always able to fix what’s broken but it can take time to cry with us, sit silently with us and give us the gift of presence.

Compassion says, “I see you in your hurt. You are not invisible to me. I can do what I can do. I will listen more than talk and hurt with and for you because I have no answers to make it go away.”

Compassion that heals begins by facing the hurts of broken life honestly and humbly. It begins as we open our own brokenness to Jesus and grows as we turn it toward others.

We start out broken and end as healers. It’s a Broken Compassion . . . and it’s a priceless and powerful gift.

It’s the kind Jesus had. Remember His description: “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” He has the Broken Compassion that can save a world.

“Jesus saw the multitudes and felt compassion for them.” Matthew 9:36