If you ever think you might be feeling God’s
compassion for you, rest assured that the only way in which your perceptions
could possibly be askew in that regard, is by sensing His compassion too feebly. Remember that a mother’s unconditional love
for her infant child is but a vague representation of the love it was created
to model for us.
For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. 1 Corinthians 13:12
I am convinced that when we find ourselves railing against an affliction that God has allowed, asking “why?” we may rest assured that our feelings fully justify that question. For if our present perception of the affliction were reflective of the whole of reality, I believe He would never allow it (see Isaiah 55:8-13).
But, though He cause grief, He will have compassion according to the abundance of His steadfast love; for He does not afflict from His heart or grieve the children of men. Lamentations 3:32-33
And He is deeply compassionate toward us while we wrestle in our limited perspective. When Jesus wept with Mary, moments before He resurrected her brother from the grave, He demonstrated the fact that THAT moment of anguish mattered to Him.
To our God, as One who dwells outside of time, and wills each moment into existence (Heb 1:3), yet Who also chooses to dwell within each moment beside us, every individual moment matters heavily—regardless of which moment will transpire next. So Christ chose to weep with Mary in those few moments of grief and bewilderment. His awareness of the rejoicing that was about to ensue at Lazarus’s resurrection did not keep Him from complete presence, understanding and sharing in the agony with those who mourned just moments before.
Now when Mary came to where Jesus was and saw Him, she fell at his feet, saying to Him, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, He was deeply moved in His spirit and greatly troubled. And He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to Him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus wept. John 11:32-35
We may rest assured that He chooses to be present with us and share in our agony with us as we grieve as well—despite the great rejoicing which He knows awaits us shortly. In fact, I believe He feels our agony more keenly than we do.
Life in a fallen world teaches us from infancy to construct walls of defense that will shield us from the pain life brings our way. We distance ourselves relationally to keep from melting when we receive uncaring looks. We discover how to distract ourselves from pain and seek to convince ourselves of our own imperviousness to insult. Yet our Saviors faces our griefs head-on without those barriers. He absorbs them in their entirety, with His heart of complete openness and innocence—and every single moment matters to Him.
Surely, He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. Isaiah 53:4
