Spotlight on Caring

Throughout His sojourn on this earth, Jesus demonstrated his kindness, compassion, wisdom, strength, tenderness, and a host of other attributes to prove how much He cared about people. Jesus loved us enough to leave His Heavenly home and drop in on planet earth. From infancy to the cross, Jesus showed us how to live and die here. The more I learn about Jesus, the more I want to be like Him in every way. Since I’ve been surrendered to the Lord for one month shy of forty-six years now, I should be coming closer to being like Jesus in some way, shouldn’t I?

I’m doing better in some areas than others. For example, living on the under-developed shores of the planet for the better part of the last thirty years, has served to trim away the materialistic tendencies I may have acquired if constantly being bombarded by ads that insist I’ll only be happy if I have this or that new gizmo. Me, I’m ecstatic if the chocolate bar just purchased in the local African grocery store actually tastes like chocolate, not raw cocoa.

People have told me that they are touched by just how much I genuinely care about other people. I do, but not nearly as much as I thought I did. Over the weekend, I read a challenging passage in the Gospel of Mark that put the spotlight on the depths of my caring. Or, should I say “the shallows of my caring?”

In the beginning of Chapter Six, Jesus gave the twelve disciples authority and sent them out to minister in the surrounding villages. Marvelous things happened through their ministry and the men could hardly wait to report back to Jesus.

While the men were out in the villages, Jesus’ cousin and friend–John the Baptist– was killed. John’s disciples came to tell Jesus about that tragic event.

We pick the story up with the entrance of the Twelve sharing their mission report. Mark 6:30-32 (NIV): “The apostles gathered around Jesus and reported to him all they had done and taught. Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” So they went away by themselves in a boat to a solitary place.”

Having been on such missions trips over the years, I can assure you they are exhausting, even if the fruits of our labors netted exciting stories to share with our headquarters. When I read the above, my heart shouted out, “Good for you, Jesus! You understand what the guys need most now. Time with you to talk things over and learn what happened to John to grieve together, food and rest.”

Then, I read on and my heart rate increased. Verse 33: “But many who saw them leaving recognized them and ran on foot from all the towns and got there ahead of them.”

I knew exactly what I would’ve done in such circumstances. I said, “Jesus, remember the guys need food, rest, and time alone with you now, right? Tell the people to go get themselves something to eat and come back in a couple of hours. That way, Your men can eat and rest.”

Whatever possessed me to think like that? After all, I’m a missionary. Because, I’m not Jesus; I saw myself amongst those weary, hungry disciples who just wanted my own needs met—first.

Verse 34: “When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. So he began teaching them many things.”

My heart sank; my flesh rose to its natural carnal position of selfishness. “Oh no, Jesus. What about the guys?” What I really meant was “What about me—my needs?”

If you keep on reading, as I did, you’ll encounter the story of the miraculous feeding of the 5000 men (plus the women and children) on that hillside. Truly, one of my favorite stories in Scripture.

What I didn’t read there was disciples complaining to Jesus that they needed to eat and rest. Their concern centered on where they could possibly find food for the mass of people. Of course, Jesus already knew what it was He would be doing to feed the crowd.

I’m convinced that the miracle fed more than the stomachs of the disciples and assembled people—not to mention the young lad whose five loaves and two fishes provided the elements for the hillside picnic (The boy’s offering is only recorded in John 6, not the other Gospels, if you’re looking for mention of him here.)

Pressing my back into the cushion of the chair, I took stock of what I knew about Jesus. Throughout the Word of God, we see how very important care of the family is to the God Who created each one. The specific words are not recorded, but God’s character tells me Jesus saw to the needs of his men, too. I don’t really need to read that they stopped at McDavid’s for a burger on their way up the mountain path.

The passage exposed how shallow my caring for people really is, when compared with Jesus—the only standard by which I should ever measure myself. I do care genuinely and deeply for the needs of other people. But, compared with the Master, I’m a toddler clinging to his pantleg to steady my staggering steps.

I refuse to let such times of exposing my heart to His light discourage me. I know God understands and accepts me just as I am. He loves me enough not to leave me there, so I can be assured that I’ll continue to grow to be more like Jesus every day.

If you find yourself clinging to His other pantleg, smile and wave at me; Jesus will grow us up to be just like Him—in time. We can count on it!