Frederick Buechner once said, “Compassion is the sometimes fatal capacity for feeling what it’s like to live inside somebody else’s skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.” That’s what it’s like to have Jesus’ heart for people.
Soon after I began to ask for the compassion of Jesus, I noticed an imposing stone building that stood a few hundred yards off a major road near where we lived. A sign said “The Stillwater Center.” I had driven past the place four or five times a day, and it had never occurred to me to find out what it was. Now I thought it had to be some kind of nursing home, and if so, then maybe our church could reach out to the residents in some way. I knew that having Jesus’ heart is not just about having a warm feeling for people in pain but is designed to prompt us to alleviate whatever pain we encounter. With this in mind, I pulled into the driveway and navigated the winding road that led back to the building.
When I entered the foyer, I introduced myself to the receptionist and inquired as to what service the facility provided. She must have thought I was a reporter doing an investigation, because she quickly said, “Hold on, I’ll get the director.” A few minutes later a man greeted me, and I told him I was a local pastor and that I had driven past the facility hundreds of times, wanted to know a little more about the center, and wondered if there was any way our church could serve there.
The director seemed hesitant, but he began to explain that the facility cared for people with severe mental retardation and physical challenges. “We take care of people when their parents can’t take care of them or they’ve been abandoned,” he said. “The best way to explain what we do is simply to show you.” He took me through a long corridor into what looked like a large hospital emergency room. From a distance each bed seemed to hold a large stuffed animal. But walking up to one bed, the director said, “This is Stephen. He’s eleven.”
Stephen was maybe three feet long and looked like a mound of clumped flesh. He lay there motionless, his arms and fingers curled into a ball. I asked how long Stephen had been at the center.
The director replied, “As long as I can remember.” Then he turned to the girl in the next bed. “This is Laura.” I looked at Laura but quickly glanced away because she was much more deformed than Stephen. Laura had only part of a face.
The director continued talking, and I couldn’t help but notice what he did as he spoke. He took his index finger and slowly parted Laura’s hair to the side and tucked it back behind her ear. Then he caressed her deformed cheek. As I watched, I thought, If Jesus were here, he would have responded just like this man.
After the tour the director walked me to my car and thanked me for stopping by. He mentioned that he was a Christian and said something about Jesus being the only thing that got him through each day.
As I drove off, I couldn’t shake the image of him pushing Laura’s hair behind her ear. Some might say he was just born with a naturally compassionate personality, but human compassion would have worn out after two months on that job. He was intelligent and obviously skilled at what he did, but training only takes you so far when it comes to caring for people; after a while everything becomes mechanical. After a moment I realized I didn’t have to guess anymore. I knew what fueled that man’s compassion. It was his heart or, rather, Jesus’ heart. He had Jesus’ heart for that little girl.
Either that or perhaps Laura was his daughter.
