He clearly needed help. Stopped at a light with my boys in the car, I looked over to my right and saw him – a slightly disheveled, elderly gentleman trying to balance a heavy bag of cat litter on his bicycle. He was too frail to even lift the bag, much less ride his bike while carrying it. But he kept trying. The bicycle kept falling over. The bag was too heavy.

I wished I hadn’t seen him, because I really didn’t want to stop and help. I had two children in the car and wanted to get home. I didn’t want to pull over in rush hour traffic to help a man who shouldn’t have bought such a big bag of cat litter in the first place. What made him think he could get it home? So I didn’t act. I sat at the light and tried to ignore his struggling, but couldn’t. Deep down, I felt for the man. I really did. I just wasn’t willing to act on it.

Then I looked to my left. The passengers in the car next to me had seen the man, too.  They were laughing at him. They were pointing at him and laughing at him. They thought his struggling was funny. That’s what it took to jar me from my complacency. It was as if Jesus himself had just slapped me upside the head. I could hear him saying, “If you’re not willing to show compassion to this man , who will? Pull over.”

I pulled over. As I did, my older son asked with alarm, “What are we doing?”

“We’re helping this gentleman with his bag,” I replied.

“But, how?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet,” I said.

I asked if I could help with his bag. He was heading in the same direction I was and needed to ride his bike two miles down the road. It was a straight shot. Easy enough, but without help, I knew that he was never going to get there – not with that bag of cat litter.

As we spoke, I became aware that all eyes were on us. The cars at the light were still there, the people who had laughed at him were still watching. And now they were watching me. Some were smirking. I met their gazes and held them. Most of them looked away.

I picked up the bag (it was really heavy) and loaded it into my car.

“How about I meet you at your complex? Can you ride your bike that far?” I asked.

“I sure can,” he replied, “thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you.”

As I drove the two miles, I wondered what I would say to him when we met again. I wanted him to know that Jesus had spurred me on to help him – that it was Christ’s compassion, not mine, that had met him in his need. I couldn’t come up with what to say. Blurting out, “Jesus made me do it,” didn’t seem quite appropriate. When he arrived in the parking lot, I asked God to give me words. We shook hands as we parted and I simply looked him straight in the eyes, squeezed his hands tightly, and said, “God bless you.” He smiled back at me and said, “God bless you, too.” Then we parted.

I didn’t do anything worth making headlines that day. I stopped and helped a man transport a bag of cat litter – and it took a kick in the pants to get me to do even that. My complacency was not very Christ-like.

The Bible tells us over and over that God is compassionate. The gospels tell us that Jesus was constantly moved by compassion:

• Jesus went through all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing every disease and sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. (Matthew 9:35-36, NIV)
•  When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick. (Matthew 14:14, NIV)
•  Jesus called his disciples to him and said, “I have compassion for these people; they have already been with me three days and have nothing to eat. I do not want to send them away hungry, or they may collapse on the way.” (Matthew 15:32, NIV)
•  Jesus had compassion on them and touched their eyes. Immediately they received their sight and followed him. (Matthew 20:34, NIV)

The thing about compassion is that it doesn’t allow for one to simply “feel sorry for” and then do nothing. The definition of compassion includes both feelings of sympathy coupled with a strong desire to alleviate the suffering. Jesus had compassion and healed the sick. He had compassion and gave sight to the blind. He had compassion and he taught. He had compassion and he fed. He felt and he acted. When he gave himself on the cross, he felt and he acted sacrificially.

As his children, he calls us to compassion. In fact, he doesn’t just call us to be compassionate or to act compassionately; he calls us to clothe ourselves with compassion – to cover ourselves in compassion from head to toe.

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. (Colossians 3:12)

Sometimes compassion will come as a natural outpouring of our relationship with Jesus as we yield to the leading of his Spirit every day. But sometimes, when we’re focused on ourselves and our own agendas, he has to give us a little nudge. Hopefully, when he does, we’re not so self-centered or hard-hearted that we don’t get the message.

Can you think of times in the recent past when you have either acted compassionately or possibly missed an opportunity? Do you find yourself “feeling sorry for…” a lot but rarely, if ever, acting on the need in front of you? Do you see needs, feel compelled to act, but don’t, not out of lack of willingness but out of fear that you don’t really know how you can help?

If Christ puts a need in front of you and stirs your heart to help meet it, he will provide the means. You have to choose, though, to put your personal agenda aside, respond to his stirring, and take the first step. He’ll empower you to follow through.

So here’s the question: What need stands before you today? How is Jesus stirring your heart? Will you take whatever step you sense him calling you to take today?