Convicting Compassion
By Caryn Burdine
The conversation started normal, but it didn’t take long for the walls of contention to be erected. I was trying to encourage a friend who was going through some recent turbulence in life. As she recalled the events, I recognized her “old” life presenting itself in a magnified way, and she became very defensive to my Biblical connotations. It appeared she had backslidden into the worldly ways.
“Well, I know this isn’t exactly the way God would want it done, but I’ve got to put food on the table, don’t I?” She said of her latest business agreement. I saw her as ransoming her Christianity, and I struggled to help her get back.
“Nothing
is impossible for God.” I told her. “You’ve
just got to wait and let him take care of it.”
But she argued me all the way.
And then I heard it – those convicting words of Matthew 7:3. “Watch out for those planks! You’re not the perfect Christian either.”
She was right. And my encouragement was immediately thwarted. I couldn’t get out of our conversation fast enough, and I’d felt like I was saying goodbye to a long-time friend because she'd chosen the world’s way instead of God’s.
My
friend knows God. She’s
experienced the thrill of the mountaintop and the exhilaration of answered
prayer. At our last conversation, her relationship with Jesus was
thriving. How could she walk away
from it so easily? And what was my
role as her “sister” now that she had turned away from the family?
As
I went to our Lord in prayer, I was convicted for my overzealous compassion.
I expected my friend to have the same desire to walk with Jesus as I did.
And I had condemned her when she fell short of my expectations, not even
thinking about how many times I’ve stepped away from God.
Yes, my friend was right about that plank. How often have I done things my way instead of God’s?
The
world is an evil snare. It is easy
to get so entangled in life’s difficulties and problems that we fall off the
path of peace. An unexpected
lay-off could cause us to lie in order to get another job. We cover up for those
we love to keep them out of trouble. We
buy on credit, hoping the money will be there next month.
We need that contract, so we agree to deadlines, knowing we can never
meet them. All these things subtly
pull us back into the world’s ways.
How
come – when circumstances get hard – we set time limits on God’s help?
The Word states in Isaiah 55:8 that “his ways are not our ways.”
It takes time for God to work in our lives, but he will not do it if we
don’t relinquish all to him. God’s
help comes for God’s glory.
We put God in a box. We limit what we think he can -- and will -- do for us. “It’s my problem.” “God’s got bigger things to do.” “I need an answer now!” We forget that the same God who has raised the dead, the same God that created this universe, is the same God who loves us unconditionally and desperately wants to help us. We have to submit our lives to him. Trust in him. Have faith in him. And leave the circumstances to him – even the little things.
What
do I do now for my friend? Do I
just walk away and write her off? Not
al all! God has begun his work in
my friend, and I must stand back and let him continue (Phil. 1:6). Her path will not be the same as mine, and her lessons will
differ as he prepares her for his predestined purpose.
It is not my job
to carry her to God. That is the
job of the Holy Spirit. My
responsibility is to be a faithful witness for Jesus Christ.
As a confessing Christian, I am called to love.
I am called to pray, and I am called to treat her as our Lord and Savior,
Jesus Christ, would treat her. I
look to him to fill me with the words that he wants me to say, and to leave the
convicting to him. My compassion
stirs as I so desperately wish to see her back in God’s loving arms, but
it’s God’s timing and God’s lessons that are being taught here.
Both for her -- and for me.
Yes,
my compassion is convicting. But
only for myself, as it leads me closer to the Father to continue his changes in
me, and to fill me with the love and patience needed to be an understanding
friend. For I, too, often fall
short of the mark, and will one day need that friend by my side.
© 1999 Caryn Burdine
Email: VinJ98@aol.com