A Mother’s Call to Compassion
When I was a kid, I remember my mom getting upset about seeing suffering, saying things like “I just can’t watch that,” cringing at headlines, or crying over a commercial. I watched in confusion as she became overwhelmed at the sight of another’s pain. But since becoming a mother almost four years ago, the same foreign power that overtook my mom has come for me too.
At first, I marveled at what felt like a newly torn hole, a whirlpool of compassion that drew in anything that came near. But soon I realized that this sensation was here to stay, locked firmly in my life, scooping up any passing grief.
After George Floyd was murdered, someone said, “All mothers were summoned when George Floyd cried out for his momma.” When I heard this, the puzzle pieces snapped into place. Though certainly not the only vehicle for growing in compassion, motherhood often awakens a particular depth of sensitivity and empathy towards the vulnerable. It takes us out of ourselves to care for another, no matter how weak or weary we may be. Our lives and bodies are put on guard, ready to hold, hug, listen, and go into battle for others. We become friends and protectors of others’ children, other mothers, of any who might stir our widened hearts.
The problem, of course, is that suffering is everywhere. I find myself trying to hide or look away in an effort to feel less, to unbear this burden. I don’t want the swell of pity and sorrow to drive me into worry and anxiety. But while it might feel like a heavy weight, this newfound compassion uncovered by motherhood is not a loss—it is a gain.
As we follow Jesus, our lives can beautifully become less and less about us and more and more about the welfare of others. Instead of running from the compassion God is stirring in our mothering hearts, we can learn to wield and embrace it for kingdom purposes.
Compassion as Discipleship
Compassion is a gift that reshapes our lives and bodies to care about all of God’s children. It is a gift from a Savior who is committed to transforming us into his likeness—and his likeness is deeply compassionate. He is “the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction” (2 Cor. 1:3-4). It is his will for us to care for the widow and the orphan[1] and to give generously of ourselves and our time as he did.
Compassion, therefore, becomes one of the most important paths of discipleship that we can tread because it takes us out of our concern solely for ourselves and into the heart of Christ. We must be willing to shake off the temptations to hide or look away so that we might grow hearts rich in compassion and comfort for those who suffer.
A Compassionate God
Growing in compassion through motherhood is no accident or hormonal adjustment. It is woven into God’s perfect design, written into our hearts before we knew it was there so that we might one day more deeply understand the height and depth and breadth of God’s love and compassion for us. In grief over his lost children, Jesus said, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem . . . How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her broods under her wings, and you were not willing” (Matt. 23:37). Merciful Jesus longed to care for his people like a mother hen, drawing his people to himself to provide for and protect them as a mother does.
But the power of a mother’s compassion is not only found in the tenderness of Christ; we see it in the enduring love of the Father for his children when he says, “Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you” (Isa. 49:15). And “Behold, I will extend peace to her like a river . . . and you shall nurse, you shall be carried upon her hip, and bounced upon her knees. As one whom his mother comforts, so I will comfort you; you shall be comforted in Jerusalem” (Isa. 66:12-13). In our Father’s steadfastness, he compares himself to a mother who nurtures her children, carrying them close, feeding, and comforting them.
In his perfect and inspired Word, our God holds motherhood in such high regard that he expresses his own commitment and devotion to his people in terms of it. If our Father chooses to widen our hearts through motherhood, it is so that we more fully understand his—one that longs for his children’s flourishing and would do anything to make them know his love.
The Courage to Follow
As we grow in godliness, we will grow in compassion as well because Jesus is mercy at his core. He breathes and bleeds compassion, bearing the weight of a broken world to the point of death so that we don’t have to hide in fear from it. We cannot shoulder every burden and need we come across, but we can entrust them to Christ as we seek to faithfully follow his example of compassion. We can be brave and humble, willing to feel the pain of our brothers and sisters, to bear the burdens of others, and to weep with those who weep. The Jesus who touched our sores and wiped our tears bore it all not so we could hide from a compassion like his, but so that we could receive it ourselves. We can come alongside him in his work as those willing to face suffering with hope, knowing that the worst we encounter here will be redeemed to the fullest one day.
Christ showed me compassion so that my heart might break like his, not to protect me from feeling the brokenness of the world. I may fight the swell of compassion because it feels like weakness, but in Christ, it is a mighty strength. He plants compassion in our hearts to humanize and awaken us to his kingdom coming. The choice we make is not whether to feel—it is whether to hope that the resurrection is true and real and tangible today. Our suffering is a light and momentary affliction, a signpost that we are not yet home, but we are growing as we walk this path of motherhood.
[1] James 1:27
