My Dear Shepherds,

Dr. D. A. Carson wrote about a time as a student when he and a friend were going to the beach for some much-needed peace and quiet. But when they got there, they found a horde of high school kids celebrating graduation with lots of beer, loud music, and (as we say) public displays of affection.

He writes, “Deeply disappointed that my evening’s relaxation was being shattered by a raucous party, I was getting ready to cover my disappointment by moral outrage. I turned to Ken to unload the venom but stopped as I saw him staring at the scene with a faraway look in his eyes. And then he said, rather softly, ‘High school kids—what a mission field!’” [i]

When [Jesus] saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. (Matt. 9:36)

Crowds came to Jesus who were crippled in body and soul, chosen people who had never heard that there was good news in God’s kingdom. Harassed comes from a word literally meaning lacerated, an apt description of their hopes and hearts. Helpless because they’d been thrown down and couldn’t get back up; people rejected, unwanted, and unloved.

It was a particularly tragic state for the Jews, whom God had entrusted to the care of priestly shepherds. “My sheep wandered over all the mountains and on every high hill. They were scattered over the whole earth, and no one searched or looked for them.” So God took on the responsibility himself, “I will search for the lost and bring back the strays. I will bind up the injured and strengthen the weak . . ..” (Ezek. 34:6,16).

Then Jesus came. What motivated Christ was his compassion, a word seasoned (etymologically) with pity and love. God had identified himself to Israel as, “The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God . . ..” In Christ, compassion takes up the shepherd’s rod and staff.

And that’s where pastors come in, summoned to serve in the shepherd’s union, “Be shepherds of God’s flock that is under your care.” Thus, in service with Jesus, all our pastoral work must rise from compassion. The feeling of compassion comes to some more naturally than others, but the Holy Spirit imparts the capacity to us all. For me (very short on sympathy as I tend to be), compassion arises as a God-given poke in the ribs and a sincere sympathy. It often surprises me, to tell you the truth.

Of course, the believers we serve are not “like sheep without a shepherd.” They have Jesus and they have you and the other elders. Pastors must “do the work of an evangelist” because lost people need compassionate and gracious shepherds in their lives, looking for them. All Christians are witnesses and may be better evangelists than we are, but pastors bring a certain knowing, a safe presence, to lost people.

Christ’s deep compassion is the well from which we draw each cup of cold water we give to others, quenching the thirst of those in our church and beyond with grace. We can do pastoral duties without this tender lovingkindness, but our ministry will be tasteless and tinny. Christlike compassion, warm with love, humility and patience, opens the door for Jesus to work.

One reason I love the company of pastors is your Christlike compassion. You wade into the lives of harassed and helpless people with healing and good news. You feed, lead, and guard your flock with tenderness and wisdom. Thank you.

Be ye glad!

[i] D. A. Carson, When Jesus Confronts the World, p.110 (Baker Book House)

Lee Eclov recently retired after 40 years of local pastoral ministry and now focuses on ministry among pastors. He writes a weekly devotional for preachers on Preaching Today.