"'But please, please - won't you - can't you give me something that will cure Mother?'
Up till then he had been looking at the Lion's great feet and the huge claws on them; now, in his despair, he looked up at its face. What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion's eyes. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory's own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.
'My son, my son,' said Aslan. 'I know. Grief is great.'"
Up till then he had been looking at the Lion's great feet and the huge claws on them; now, in his despair, he looked up at its face. What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion's eyes. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory's own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.
'My son, my son,' said Aslan. 'I know. Grief is great.'"
— C.S. Lewis (The Magician's Nephew)
This beautiful excerpt from Lewis' The Magician's Nephew is one of my favorite parts of an entire series I have read many, many times since I was six years old. To me, it draws a heartbreaking picture of what stirs my heart most to love Christ: His compassion. It reminds me of the Man of sorrows, who was acquainted with our grief and suffering. I think of Isaiah where it said that "a bruised reed He will not break and a flickering candle He will not put out." I think of when Jesus wept with Mary over the death of her brother Lazarus, when He looked out at the multitudes of people and was moved with compassion.
Brennan Manning, in his sermon "He Knows What Hurts Within Us", expounds on the word compassion. "It comes from the Greek verb 'splagxniozomai' which is used 12 times in the 4 gospels and is usually translated into English as 'he was moved with compassion'. However because of the poverty of our English vocabulary we really don't capture the etymological meaning of 'splagxniozomai'... which is derived from another Greek term meaning bowels, intestines... the deepest parts of a person from which the strongest emotions such as love and hatred arise. When you read in the Gospels that Jesus was moved with compassion, it was saying that his gut was wrenched, his heart torn open and the most vulnerable part of his being laid bare, and Jesus says to us, don't ever be so foolish as to measure my compassion for you, in terms of your compassion for one another."
He knows what hurts within us. He KNOWS, in the deepest part of his being, what makes us hurt, the depths of the pain, and where it comes from. He stepped into our world, took on our flesh, and laid His infinite, fathomless heart bare to our loneliness, our grief, our suffering, our fear, our anxiety.
Why do we let ourselves remain alone? Why do we isolate ourselves, keep Him at arm's length, wall up and push Him away in our pain? Why do I assume that He grows fed up with my cynicism, skepticism, inconsistency, and mistrust? He isn't like us. He understands, and more than that, He empathizes, He feels it, He opens His heart and allow my pain to "reverberate in the depths of His own being". The eternal God is always and forever moved with compassion for me.
If I feel alone, misunderstood, or forgotten it is not because He has changed or His compassion has run out. It is because I have forgotten.
The realization that He knows what hurts within us brings Him so near, makes Him so tangible. It bridges the gap between God on the peaks of Sinai and Moriah, and God with us. Emmanuel... healing the sick and the broken. This is the heartbeat of the Gospel answering the deepest cry in our hearts to be understood. This is what destroys my walls, silences my cynicism, and draws me back to Him again and again.
This beautiful excerpt from Lewis' The Magician's Nephew is one of my favorite parts of an entire series I have read many, many times since I was six years old. To me, it draws a heartbreaking picture of what stirs my heart most to love Christ: His compassion. It reminds me of the Man of sorrows, who was acquainted with our grief and suffering. I think of Isaiah where it said that "a bruised reed He will not break and a flickering candle He will not put out." I think of when Jesus wept with Mary over the death of her brother Lazarus, when He looked out at the multitudes of people and was moved with compassion.
Brennan Manning, in his sermon "He Knows What Hurts Within Us", expounds on the word compassion. "It comes from the Greek verb 'splagxniozomai' which is used 12 times in the 4 gospels and is usually translated into English as 'he was moved with compassion'. However because of the poverty of our English vocabulary we really don't capture the etymological meaning of 'splagxniozomai'... which is derived from another Greek term meaning bowels, intestines... the deepest parts of a person from which the strongest emotions such as love and hatred arise. When you read in the Gospels that Jesus was moved with compassion, it was saying that his gut was wrenched, his heart torn open and the most vulnerable part of his being laid bare, and Jesus says to us, don't ever be so foolish as to measure my compassion for you, in terms of your compassion for one another."
He knows what hurts within us. He KNOWS, in the deepest part of his being, what makes us hurt, the depths of the pain, and where it comes from. He stepped into our world, took on our flesh, and laid His infinite, fathomless heart bare to our loneliness, our grief, our suffering, our fear, our anxiety.
Why do we let ourselves remain alone? Why do we isolate ourselves, keep Him at arm's length, wall up and push Him away in our pain? Why do I assume that He grows fed up with my cynicism, skepticism, inconsistency, and mistrust? He isn't like us. He understands, and more than that, He empathizes, He feels it, He opens His heart and allow my pain to "reverberate in the depths of His own being". The eternal God is always and forever moved with compassion for me.
If I feel alone, misunderstood, or forgotten it is not because He has changed or His compassion has run out. It is because I have forgotten.
The realization that He knows what hurts within us brings Him so near, makes Him so tangible. It bridges the gap between God on the peaks of Sinai and Moriah, and God with us. Emmanuel... healing the sick and the broken. This is the heartbeat of the Gospel answering the deepest cry in our hearts to be understood. This is what destroys my walls, silences my cynicism, and draws me back to Him again and again.