As one of your City Pres deacons, I have the awesome privilege and responsibility of caring for the material needs of our church family and those in our city who come to us for help. From day one it has been an eye-opening and humbling experience to serve alongside the other deacons as we seek to spread God’s love in tangible ways. It has also been a very convicting experience, and this week’s sermon reminded me once again of a truth I struggle with: I really like to help others on my terms. I want problems to have a single, non-controversial solution that I can implement, and measurable results that make me feel good about my accomplishments.

Real people and real life situations don’t look like that. Justin spoke this week about the ideas of compassion and capacity in the context of the parable of the Good Samaritan. The Samaritan showed compassion not just by helping someone in need, but by doing it for someone who would have been a despised enemy - the closest parallel today might be someone on the very opposite end of the political spectrum, the person you can’t see in the news without a visceral reaction of disgust or disdain. The Samaritan’s capacity to help was shown in the way he had the resources to treat the man’s wounds and to pay the innkeeper for his ongoing care.

It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that compassion is somehow within our control, a matter of effort, whereas capacity is a matter of life circumstances and mostly outside our control. After all, I only have so much money and time to go around. This is especially true right now, in the midst of a crisis that seems like it will never end. It’s easy to get overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the need around us - so many people hurting, out of work, isolated, threatened by sickness and death, experiencing racism and hatred, bogged down by uncertainty. How could we as a church possibly make a dent in that mess? I’m not Jesus - the last time I shared my lunch it didn’t feed 5000 people!

The truth is, neither my compassion nor my capacity can ever be enough. I’m not the Samaritan in the story; I’m the man half-killed by robbers and in need of mercy from someone who owes me nothing. I have nothing to be proud of and no efforts of my own to boast about.

Galatians 2:20 says, “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” When by God’s grace I’m able to help someone, it’s not my compassion being expressed - it’s Christ’s compassion. When I feel like I’m all dried up and have no capacity left to help others, Christ, who lives in me, has infinite capacity. Rather than wearing myself out trying to fix the world’s problems out of guilt or self-righteousness, I need to help others out of Christ’s fullness and not my emptiness.

Jesus, teach me not to rely on my own compassion and capacity to help others, but to embrace your words in Matthew 11:28-30, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

~Joanna Hinks