Archive for March 2026
In a world that constantly urges us to speak, respond, and defend our opinions, we often overlook a powerful expression of love: silence.
Inspired by a story (sermon link above) in Paul Miller’s book Love Walked Among Us, we’re reminded that sometimes the most compassionate response isn’t found in words at all, but in choosing not to speak. There are moments when silence becomes an act of deep love—what Miller calls “a time to shut up.”
Throughout the life of Jesus, we consistently see compassion in the way He responds to people. Yet just as striking are the moments when He chooses not to respond. His silence is never passive—it is intentional, thoughtful, and rooted in love.
A powerful example appears in Mark 14. After Jesus predicts Peter’s denial, Peter passionately insists he will never fail Him. Jesus, knowing the truth and the pain that lies ahead for Peter, says nothing more. He doesn’t argue, correct, or prove His point. Instead, He allows silence to do its compassionate work. In that moment, love looks like restraint.
This echoes a story about Dallas Willard, who, when confronted by an argumentative student, chose not to engage. When asked why, he simply said, “I am practicing the discipline of not having the last word.” Sometimes love means letting go of the need to win.
We see this again in the book of Job. When Job’s friends first arrive, they sit with him in silence, sharing his grief without words. It is a beautiful picture of compassionate presence. But when they begin to speak, their words bring judgment instead of comfort. Their mistake wasn’t that they cared—it was that they didn’t remain silent.
Even more profoundly, silence plays a role in the greatest act of love in history. As Jesus stands before Pilate, He often chooses not to answer. His silence is not weakness—it is purpose. He allows events to unfold, knowing that this path leads to the cross, where love is ultimately revealed.
And in Gethsemane, we see Jesus Himself experiencing silence—from the Father. Three times He prays for another way, and three times heaven is silent. Yet even in that silence, there is love. It reminds us that God’s silence is not absence, but trust—that His purposes, though painful, are always good.
The book of James warns us about the power of the tongue and how easily words can cause harm. Perhaps one of the greatest gifts we can give—to others and ourselves—is the discipline of silence.
In today’s world, this is especially relevant. Social media constantly invites us to react, correct, and argue. But not every opinion needs a response. Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is to stay silent, trust God, and preserve the relationship over being right.
Silence is not weakness. It is strength under control. It is love choosing not to wound. It is compassion that trusts God more than our need to speak.
Sometimes, the most Christlike thing we can do… is simply say nothing.
Truth and Love: Walking the Way of Jesus
When we ask the Holy Spirit to form us into a people of love, we quickly become aware that there are human attitudes that can hinder our ability to love with the compassion we see in Jesus. One of the most challenging tensions we face is how to remain faithful to truth while still expressing genuine love.
The church often finds itself caught between two cultural extremes. On one side is the mindset of “you do you,” which fears that speaking truth might push people away. On the other side is a rigid legalism that prioritizes being right but can lose sight of grace. The question is: How did Jesus navigate this tension between truth and love?
The Gospels show us that truth was never optional for Jesus. In fact, truth is central to who He is. He described Himself as “the way, the truth, and the life,” leaving no room for the idea of competing personal truths. Yet what is striking about Jesus is that He never compromised truth—and still loved people deeply.
A powerful example appears in the story of the sinful woman who anoints Jesus’ feet (Luke 7:36–50). When Jesus accepts a dinner invitation from a Pharisee named Simon, a woman known for her sinful reputation enters the gathering. Overcome with gratitude for the forgiveness she has experienced, she weeps at Jesus’ feet, anointing them and wiping them with her hair.
Simon silently judges both the woman and Jesus, assuming that a true prophet would have rejected her. But Jesus gently confronts Simon’s thinking. Rather than rebuking him harshly, He tells a story that leads Simon to recognize the truth for himself. Jesus then contrasts Simon’s lack of hospitality with the woman’s humble devotion. While He does not deny her sin, He highlights the depth of her repentance and assures her of forgiveness. Truth is spoken, but it is surrounded by compassion and grace.
A similar pattern appears when Jesus encounters the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1–11). The crowd seeks to trap Him by demanding judgment. Instead, Jesus exposes the hypocrisy of the accusers, inviting anyone without sin to cast the first stone. One by one they leave. When Jesus finally speaks to the woman, He neither condemns nor excuses her sin. Instead, He offers grace while calling her to a new life: “Go now and leave your life of sin.”
We see the same balance in the story of the rich young ruler (Mark 10:17–22). The man asks about eternal life, confident in his moral record. Jesus lovingly helps him see the deeper truth: the Kingdom is not simply about keeping rules but about surrendering everything to follow Him. Mark’s Gospel notes something remarkable—Jesus looked at him and loved him—even as He spoke the difficult truth the man needed to hear.
From these encounters we learn something essential about Jesus. He never avoids truth, because confronting truth is actually an act of love. It is in that honest moment that grace, forgiveness, and transformation become possible.
As one writer put it, “Compassion without truth and justice is an ugly, spineless parody of love.” True love does not ignore the darkness of sin; it engages it so that the light of grace can break through.
If we want to live like Jesus, we must learn to do the same—to face truth honestly while building relationships marked by humility, grace, and compassion. In doing so we create space for people to encounter the forgiveness and new life that only Jesus can give.
Compassion or Comparison (continued)
As we ask the Holy Spirit to shape us into a people of love, one of the key lessons we see in the life of Jesus is the importance of truly seeing people. Not merely noticing them, but seeing them in a way that awakens compassion.
Throughout the Gospels, Jesus repeatedly responds to people with compassion. When He sees the hungry crowds, He feeds them. When He sees people who are lost and in need of guidance, He cares for them. His compassion leads Him to do the unthinkable—such as touching and healing a man with leprosy. Again and again, Jesus’ compassion moves Him to act, even when it is inconvenient.Often the obstacle is not that we fail to see people, but how we see them.
For many of us, however, compassion does not come naturally. Jesus speaks directly to this struggle when He calls His followers to love and show mercy particularly to those we see as our “enemies”.(Luke 6:27-36). It is easy to respond compassionately to those who love us whose attitude to us is less positive not so much!
The Gospels frequently contrast the way Jesus sees people with the way others do. In the story of the man born blind,(John 9) the disciples immediately ask who sinned to cause his condition. Their assumption reflects a common belief that suffering must be punishment. Instead of compassion, their first response is judgment. The disciples see a blind man, Jesus see a man who happens to be blind and who he can touch with a healing hand in such a way as to give glory to His Father in heaven.
We can easily fall into the same pattern as the disciples. When we see someone struggling—perhaps a person experiencing homelessness—it can be tempting to assume they are responsible for their situation. Comparison quietly creeps in: I would never let that happen to me. In that moment, compassion is replaced with judgment.
Jesus also exposes this mindset in the story of the prodigal son. When the father welcomes his broken son home with compassion, the elder brother reacts with anger. He immediately compares his faithfulness with his brother’s failure and concludes that he has been treated unfairly. Comparison leads to resentment and self-righteousness.
The same attitude appears in Jesus’ story of the Pharisee and the tax collector. The Pharisee’s prayer is full of comparison: he thanks God that he is not like other people. While it is easy to feel repulsed by his arrogance, we must be careful. Self-righteousness can slip quietly into our own thinking—in small everyday moments when we assume our way is better than everyone else’s.
Another obstacle to compassion that appears throughout the Gospels is legalism. In Luke 6, Jesus heals a man with a withered hand on the Sabbath. The religious leaders are more concerned with whether Jesus has broken their rules than with the suffering of the man in front of them. Jesus reveals that they have missed the deeper purpose of the law: love and mercy.
We must be careful not to fall into the same trap. Over time, traditions and customs can become so important that we forget the people they are meant to serve.
If we want to love like Jesus, we must learn to see people the way He does. That means taking time to listen to their stories and making sure they feel known and safe. We must be sure to ask the Holy Spirit to show us when judgement, self righteousness or legalism in some form or another creeps into our attitude. When it is these things that prompt us to compare rather than act with compassion.
Compassion or Comparison: Learning to See as Jesus Sees
In this ongoing series on Becoming a People of Love, we are asking the Holy Spirit to move us beyond simply knowing about love and into living it in ways that clearly reflect Jesus. To help us on this journey, we are using our working definition of Agape – “To make an absolute priority of, and to work relentlessly for, the absolute best for another person(s) without expecting a return”.
This transformation is a long process. Last week we learned the importance of truly seeing people. Jesus demonstrated this as He “saw” a grieving widow (Luke 7:13) and Zacchaeus (Luke 19:5), a despised tax collector. In both encounters, Jesus recognized their need and their stories, and as well as responding to their immediate situations, He brought restoration that pointed to the nearness of God’s Kingdom. Yet seeing alone is not enough. We must also pay attention to how we see others—and how that shapes our response.
Jesus illustrates this through two well-known stories from the Gospel of Luke.
The first is the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25–37). A man is left half-dead on a dangerous road. A priest and a Levite both see him, yet choose to pass by. Their vision is shaped by caution, inconvenience, and uncertainty. The Samaritan, however—despised by Jewish listeners—sees not a problem but a person. Moved by compassion, he acts sacrificially to ensure the man’s care, without expectation of return. The difference is not simply what they saw, but how they saw.
The second story is the parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15). Here, a deeply disrespected father watches and waits for his wayward son’s return. When the son finally comes home, the father does not see failure or disgrace—he sees his beloved child. Love shapes his vision, leading him to welcome and restore rather than condemn. While others might see someone unworthy of mercy, the father sees only a son whose return is to be celebrated.
Together, these stories reveal a powerful truth: compassion flows from seeing people as God sees them. Where comparison and judgment see inconvenience or offense, love sees humanity and need. Jesus takes a profound theological idea—God’s love and Kingdom life—and translates it into a lived reality for today. Eternal life, Jesus says, is not only future hope but present experience. When we learn to see with compassion, we begin to live—and invite others into—the Kingdom here and now.
From the Zebra Bag 