When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, “Don’t cry.”  Luke 7:13
 
 
Compassion is an under-rated feeling, perhaps a lost art. In a day and age where every day brings news of atrocities committed and lives lost or maimed, sometimes we find ourselves more than a wee bit anesthetized to pain and suffering.
 
Dictionary.com defines compassion as “a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering.” The first part of this definition defines what we feel when we see or hear about someone in pain. The latter part of this definition, though, is more than a feeling:  it’s a strong desire that leads us to action, to do something to help those in need.
 
In the seventh chapter of Luke, Jesus and His friends walk a good day’s journey from Capernaum south to the town of Nain. It’s probably dusk when Jesus and His followers, mostly numbered in the hundreds, reach the city entrance. Dusk was the time of day funerals would be held and the dead buried far outside the city gates. Tired and hungry from their journey, they approach Nain just at the time a funeral procession is leaving the city for the burial caves. Jesus, ever aware of His physical surroundings and the emotional landscape of people He encounters, realizes the body on the bier is a young man who is survived only by his mother. In Biblical times, women didn’t have the right to financially support themselves. Instead, the men in their lives provided monetarily. Since her husband died, this woman, like other widows in this culture, depended on her son to take care of her financially. Without a husband and now without her son, this widow’s future looks very bleak. Jesus, knowing all of this, has compassion for her. In verse 13 we read these words, “When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, ‘Don’t cry.’ “
 
Jesus walks up to the bier and touches it. The pall bearers stop. The crowd’s collective breath is on hold as they watch wide-eyed, waiting in suspense for what will happen next. In a loud and clear voice, Jesus commands the young man to get up. Imagine the widow’s shock as she sees her son sit up and start talking. The pall bearers lower the bier and Jesus helps the young man to stand and walks him over to his overjoyed mother. The onlookers are amazed and immediately give credit to God for this miracle they have just witnessed.
 
The raising of the widow’s son is the first instance of Jesus raising someone from the dead. I am awed by His power, but I am overcome by His compassion. Tired from His journey, Jesus saw the funeral procession as an opportunity, not an interruption. He looked beyond the physical circumstances to see a widow’s broken heart. He went beyond mere words of “Don’t cry” to the helping and healing hands of action.
 
When Jesus saw the widow, the Bible says “his heart went out to her”. He felt compassion deep inside. His caring touch raised her son from the dead and His guiding hand brought her son back to her.
 
Jesus is the God of Compassion. His compassions never fail. They are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23). Jesus sees into our pain, has compassion on us, and has the power to transform our mourning into dancing (Psalm 30:11-12). He isn’t too busy or uncaring. Jesus sees, cares, and heals. He is the very definition of compassion. Let Him bind up your wounds. He loves you so.
 
 
Lord, I am truly overwhelmed by Your compassion. Thank You for binding up my wounds and for turning my mourning into dancing. Help me to follow Your example in not only feeling compassionate towards others, but actively showing compassion to those who need Your healing touch. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
 
 
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Text and photograph copyright © 2018 by Dawn Dailey. All rights reserved. Photo of Mount Rundle at sunset, Alberta, Canada.
 
 
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.  Isaiah 43:19
 
 
How many times did you hear growing up that children should be “seen and not heard”? There were too many times for me to count. I can’t think of my childhood, though, without thinking of my two brothers. Logan, the older one, was born less than two years after I was. We were close growing up, not just in age, but in interests, particularly as we became teens.
 
In 2009, Logan suffered a massive heart attack and immediately passed away. Only in his forties, his death was a horrible shock to me, to our family, and to his wife and children. There was no chance to say good-bye. One day I was talking to him on the phone and the next week, I was attending his memorial service.
 
Many times, I have felt as if I were wandering around in the barren desert, parched and dry. Like the Israelites who camped out in the wilderness for forty years, I can relate to at least some of their despair.
 
In our key verse, Isaiah 43:19, God speaks through the prophet Isaiah with imagery from that desert trek Moses and the Israelites endured so many years before. God tells the Israelites to forget the past, even the miraculous deliverance from Egypt when God parted the Red Sea, because He is doing something even more incredible. This text is a prophecy of the coming Messiah, Jesus, who would be the salvation to all, to the Jews and to the Gentiles, to all who believed. The imagery of a way made in the wilderness suggests that Christ will be the way for lost people in the world’s wilderness, particularly for God to include the Gentiles in His plan for salvation. Streams flowing in the desert signifies not only God’s provision but also the many blessings found in Christ. Like a river overflowing, life with Christ is an abundant one, overflowing with God’s love and care.
 
As Logan’s birthday rolled around this year, I realized a heavy sadness had settled in my soul. Grief will do that, catching us unaware even when we think we’ve been down this road before. As I began my time with the Lord that morning, God spoke to me through an online devotional on hope through grief, one written and posted for that day. At the risk of sounding super-spiritual (I’m not!), as I opened two different devotional books, both the entries for that day spoke on God changing mourning into dancing (Psalm 30:11-12) and God making all things new in Isaiah 43:19. I was overcome with the feeling that God deliberately spoke to me that day, not once, but three times.
 
I’m still not sure why this birthday of Logan’s hit me harder than some of the previous ones, but I do know that God is a God who sees and hears all who call on Him, particularly when they find themselves in the desert or wandering through the wilderness. We have hope because God is making all things new in all ways. God sees our tears. He hears our cries. He came to make a new way for us, one of hope, not despair. Flowing like a stream in the desert, Jesus’ offer of living water (John 4:13-14) totally quenches our thirst like nothing else can, giving us the abundant and everlasting life. As God’s children, we are not just “seen and not heard”. He sees us and He hears us. His love never fails. Thanks be to God.
 
 
Thank You, Jesus, for pouring Yourself out as an offering in order to offer us the spiritually abundant life now and eternal life for always. I praise You and thank You for seeing me, hearing me, and loving me, no matter what the circumstances surrounding me. Amen.
 
 
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Text and photograph copyright © 2018 by Dawn Dailey. All rights reserved. Photo of Marble Canyon, British Columbia, Canada.
 
 
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  Matthew 11:28-30
 
 
On a trip to my hometown, I drove down memory lane. Passing schools where I attended, stores where I had shopped, restaurants where I had dined, plus all too familiar streets and houses unleashed memory after memory as I drove around town. I wish I could say these were all good memories. None were horrible, but many left me wondering why my mind diverted down these forgotten paths to places unbidden, leaving me feeling less than nostalgic and more introspective.

Letting these memories wash over me like waves on a lonely seashore in some ways felt cathartic and therapeutic. As I named these memories for simply being just memories, they began to lose their power over me. Lifting these burdens up to God, I allowed the waves to rinse me clean of yesteryear as these thoughts receded into the depths of the sea in my mind’s eye.
 
What is this tremendous pull the past has on me? Like the lunar tug on the sea creating wave after wave, the past tugs on my mind and heart. Sometimes, the past comes back to haunt me in the form of regret and sadness, tinged with hopelessness and mingled with a sense of emptiness, washing up on the beaches of my soul, day after day, year after year.
 
How can I shake off this grip from the past? As I continued driving, I found myself involuntarily shaking my head. Perhaps not hard enough to dislodge the phantoms of the past permanently, but it was enough to clear my brain so I could thank God for my present and to have hope for the future.
 
Thankfulness creates a sense of joy, a blanket of contentment under which I can crawl when I have allowed my mind to creep back to the past. Being thankful covers the emptiness, the sadness, with a healing balm, soothing the corners of my mind and smoothing out all in between, with God’s peace and presence.
 
Where do you go into the past? Is your trip backward disturbing or healing? Do you let the memories of yesterday wash over you for cleansing or do these waves crash on the beach of your mind, jarring you into time you thought you had forgotten?
 
I love the fact that God isn’t bound by time. He is simultaneously in our past, present, and future. When we turn to him in our present with the load of the past on our backs, He gently lifts our burdens, nailing them to the cross. In the present, we can experience the gift of Himself, full of comfort and healing, true rest for the weary soul. As He leads us forward, we are free from our past, free to be who He created us to be, with a hope and a future.
 
What regrets do you have? What memories, when triggered, haunt you? Give the burdens of yesteryear up to God and allow His cleansing power to wash you clean. Look to Him for comfort, rest, and hope.
 
 
Dear Jesus, thank You for taking my burdens upon You and exchanging them for peace and rest. Thank You for your comfort and healing power. Amen.
 
 
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Text and photograph copyright © 2018 by Dawn Dailey. All rights reserved. Photo of sunset at La Jolla, San Diego, California.
 
 
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™