1 Peter 3:8

“To sum up, all of you be harmonious, sympathetic, brotherly, kindhearted, and humble in spirit.”

Peter calls believers to be “sympathetic”—the Greek word sympatheia, which literally means “suffering with.” It’s not distant pity. It’s not casual concern. It’s entering into another person’s pain so completely that you carry it alongside them. You stand in it with them. You feel it with them. This is the biblical definition of compassion. And Peter doesn’t present it as optional. He presents it as essential to what it means to be a follower of Christ. A lack of compassion isn’t a minor character flaw. A lack of compassion is evidence of a fundamental disconnect from God Himself. Why? Because God is love. Not that God possesses love as one of His attributes among many. But that love is the very essence of who God is. Love is His nature. Love is His character. Love is what defines Him. And compassion is love in action.  So when you withhold compassion—when you refuse to suffer with someone, when you ignore their pain, when you respond to their need with judgment or anger instead of mercy—what you’re doing is actually revealing something about your own relationship with God.

Think about what God’s compassion actually is. God looks at humanity—sinful, rebellious, broken humanity—and instead of turning away in disgust, He enters into our suffering. Jesus didn’t stay in heaven, safe and comfortable. He came down. He suffered with us. He took on human flesh. He experienced hunger and pain and betrayal and death. He suffered alongside humanity in our brokenness. God didn’t wait for us to get our act together. He didn’t wait for us to prove ourselves worthy. While we were still sinners—broken, rebellious, undeserving—God suffered with us. God died for us. This is the love of God in action — this is compassion. Suffering with. Standing in the pain. Sacrificing everything for the beloved. And here is the revealing principle: if you truly understand God’s love—if you’ve truly experienced His compassion for you—then you will extend that same compassion to others. Not maybe, not when they deserve it. We are all called to be compassionate for each other at all times.  This truth is unambiguous. You cannot claim to love God while refusing to love—to truly love, with compassion and sacrifice. The two are inseparable. They’re one command expressed two ways. If you truly love God, you will love your brother, love your wife, love your children, love the lost. And loving means suffering with. It means sacrificing your comfort for their care. So when you extend compassion to someone—when you enter into their suffering, when you respond to their brokenness with mercy instead of judgment, when you sacrifice your comfort for their care—you’re not just being kind. You’re revealing something profound about yourself. You’re revealing that you understand God’s love. You’re revealing that you’ve been transformed by it. You’re revealing that you’ve understood the gospel. Conversely, when you withhold compassion—when you judge someone for their weakness, when you distance yourself from their pain, when you demand that they fix themselves before you’ll extend mercy—you’re revealing something else. You’re revealing that you haven’t truly grasped God’s love for you. You’re revealing that you haven’t let the gospel transform your heart.

This is why Matthew 25:31–46 is so severe. Jesus separates the sheep from the goats based on one criterion: whether they responded to the suffering of others with compassion.

“Then the King will say to those on His right, ‘Come, you who are blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.’ Then the righteous will answer Him, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, and feed You, or thirsty, and give You something to drink? And when did we see You a stranger, and invite You in, or naked, and clothe You? When did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ The King will answer and say to them, ‘To the extent that you did it to one of the least of these brothers of Mine, you did it to Me.'” (Matthew 25:34–40, NASB)

The righteous are those who responded to suffering with compassion. They didn’t ask if the hungry person deserved food. They didn’t ask if the stranger deserved hospitality. They saw need and responded with mercy. And Jesus says: when you do this, you’re doing it to Me. You’re demonstrating that you understand My love for you. But then He addresses the goats:

“Then He will also say to those on His left, ‘Depart from Me, accursed ones, into the eternal fire which has been prepared for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry, and you gave Me nothing to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me nothing to drink; I was a stranger, and you did not invite Me in; naked, and you did not clothe Me; sick, and in prison, and you did not visit Me.’ Then they themselves also will answer, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not take care of You?’ Then He will answer them, ‘To the extent that you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to Me.'” (Matthew 25:41–45, NASB)

The accursed are those who saw suffering and turned away. They didn’t extend compassion. And Jesus says: when you refuse to suffer with the least of these, you’re refusing to suffer with Me. You’re demonstrating that you don’t understand My love for you.

This is the principle that should grip your heart: your compassion—or lack of it—is a revealing window into the state of your soul. This is a serious principle, one that requires deep consideration.  I have known too many professing Christians that lack compassion.  For the lost, for their spouse, for the brethren.  For the weak, the sick, the depressed, the lonely.  Suffering is a part of life we all go through — who of us are willing to suffer with one another?  Who of us are willing to lay down our arrogance and pride and get down in the dirt in order to lift another person up?   So the question isn’t: “Am I being compassionate enough?” The question is: “Do I truly understand God’s love and compassion for me?” Because if you do—if you really do—then compassion will flow naturally. Not as obligation. But as the overflow of a heart transformed by grace.

Yours in Christ, 

Pastor John