Compassion - Week 3
If you’ve got a Bible—and I hope you or somebody close to you does—I want to invite you to open up with me to Matthew 14. This is where we’re going to begin our time together today. And as we walk through this story, we’re going to make our way to John 21 by the end. And as you’re turning there, let me just say this: we’ve been sitting in this word—compassion—for the last couple of weeks. Watching Jesus. Listening to Jesus. Trying to understand what He saw when He looked at people. Trying to understand what He felt. And if we’re honest—and I mean really honest about our faith and what we believe… —those first two parts of compassion, the ones we’ve looked at these past weeks? Seeing people and feeling something for them? Those are still kind of easy. You can walk past a hurting person and have a moment of sympathy. You can drop a few dollars in a cup or say a quick prayer and feel like you’ve done something good. And in a way, maybe you have. But the truth is—nothing really changed in you. You saw. You felt. But then you moved on. Maybe not even showing another soul any compassion, mercy or grace for some while. And if we’re not careful, we can live like that—helping just enough to feel helpful, but not enough to be changed. We can show pity without ever knowing the heart of Christ. We can serve without surrender. We can hand out compassion like a product instead of living it as a commission.
Let’s read this together—Matthew 14, starting in verse 13: When Jesus heard what had happened, He withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed Him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, He had compassion on them and healed their sick. So, before we really begin, I dont want to rush past something we see here because it exposes something we’re all vulnerable to. Every one of us is tempted to treat Jesus as a tool for our plans instead of the treasure of our lives. It’s possible,…..completely possible…..to wear the name “Christian” and yet build a version of faith where Jesus is simply the pathway to get the things we want most. And rightly so… think about that we just read here… This crowd wants to be healed of their diseases. They want evil spirits cast out of them. So they press in around Him, trying to touch Him, in order to get what they want. It’s not that they want Jesus. They want these things—healing, deliverance, whatever it is—and they see Jesus….. as a means to those things. The best way I can explain this kind of faith is like this. You’re stranded in open water, fighting to stay afloat, certain you’re not going to make it. And Then, far off, you spot a rescue boat heading toward you. And so, wanting to live, wanting a better situation, you begin to come closer, and wave, and yell to get the captains attention,. In that moment of desperations you want that boat. You’ll climb in the moment it arrives, because it’s your way out. But here’s the thing—wanting the rescue doesn’t automatically mean you love the captain. You can be thankskul he saw you, you can You can long for safety but, even in the deepness of your heart, still be indifferent toward the one who saved you. And if we’re not careful, that’s exactly what our faith can become. We can be glad Jesus saves us from hell, eager for His blessings, thankful for His provision, and still never truly want Him. Crowds can chase after His miracles and yet completely miss His heart. The question is, when all the gifts are stripped away, do we still want the Giver? And I want to be completely honest with you… I wrestle with this question every single day. I have to ask myself, “What in my life am I wanting from Christ more than Christ Himself?” Because if I’m honest, it’s frighteningly easy to want comfort more than I want Him. Or success. Or answers. Or relief from the things that hurt. And none of those things are wrong to desire, but they become dangerous when my heart quietly starts to believe that Jesus is valuable only because He gives them to me. And Listen, church…..The danger isn’t that we stop calling ourselves Christians. Thats not the danger. The real danger in our salvation and faith is that we can keep using His name, while living for what we love more than loving Him.
So, here’s what I don’t want us to miss in this moment. Jesus has just received the devastating news about John — His cousin, His forerunner — and He withdraws. This is real grief. This is family. And yet, when He steps off the boat, there they are — the crowd — pressing in, pulling on Him, each with their own needs and stories. This is so natural of humanity. All of us….are drawn to anyone or anything that meets our needs. That makes us more comfortable. And this is where the Spirit confronts me. Because if I’m honest, this is where, if people were pressing in on me, and hurting myself… my flesh wants to say, “Not today.” This is where my heart starts whispering, “I need space… I need to take care of myself first… I just can’t deal with people right now.” And you know what that is? That’s comfort talking. That’s the voice in me that says compassion can wait until it’s convenient. But Jesus doesn’t think that way. True compassion is not postponed until life is comfortable. If comfort was the condition for His compassion, there would be no cross. There would be no gospel. There would be no hope for you or for me. And here’s the danger — not just for them, but for us. Comfort, when it becomes the deciding factor for whether or not we love and want to invest in people, turns into idolatry. It’s not a gift from God anymore; it’s a throne we’ve put in the center of our lives. And that throne will never produce Christlike compassion — because comfort will always tell you to stay where you are. Paul understood this. Philippians 1:13 — “It has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ.” These aren’t metaphorical chains. This is cold, heavy iron, biting into his wrists. Yet the man who wrote those words is not obsessed with getting out — he’s obsessed with making Christ known where he is. Just a few verses later he says, “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” Do you see it? Comfort is not found in the absence of hardship; comfort is found in the presence of Jesus. Which means — if Christ is truly your life — you don’t pull away from people in your pain, you pour yourself out for them, because you are safe in Him. Sounds good right? But this isn’t my words.. this isn’t my idea… Right? My natural response would be, I don’t have time. But thats not very Christ driven. How do I know this? Well, look at what Paul tells the Corinthians? “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.” We live in a world where affliction is real. And our comfort is real. AAnd here, Paul says, Our God is the God of all comfort. Our God is the father of mercies and he comforts us in our affliction. When we walk through affliction, God is not distant from us. God is not far from us. God is with us. He comforts us in our affliction. And I think about how families in our church have needs,and I want o comfort them in every way I can. And to know this is how God sees us in our affliction, that he comes to comfort us in our affliction. That encourages me. Then the beauty here is not just so that we might receive his comfort but that as we are comforted by God himself, then we can be a reflection of his comfort to others. So that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. So I think about how God has been so gracious to me in affliction. I mean…. Wow! Like, thin about this… Jesus in this moment of affliction, was comforted by God, and was able to comfort others in their affliction. And that comfort is in you.. have you thought about that? That God is the God who comforts, its his very name,. …. but yet, he goes further. … it also points to the Holy Spirit who dwells in us, who Jesus calls The Comforter. You have The Comforter, capital C, living inside you as you walk through afflictions, hardship, and challenges. You know the God of All Comfort. The Comforter lives inside of you. He comforts us in all our affliction. So God comforts us when we walk through affliction. That in and of itself is awesome. So awesome! Then, as if thats not awesome enough… God takes it further. Paul says He comforts us “so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction.” Do you see that? Not just so you can breathe easier. Not just so you can get through the night. He comforts you so that you become a dispenser of comfort. So that your life becomes a channel. So that the mercy you’ve received flows out of you to someone else who’s in pain. And I want you to pause and think about that word affliction. Think about the challenges. The loss. The nights you didn’t think you’d make it. The pain you’ve carried. The trials that broke you. And then……… remember how God met you there. It may have been in a verse you couldn’t stop reading. A song you couldn’t stop singing. A friend who sat with you in silence. It’s there — I promise you — the comfort of God in your darkest places. Remember pslam 34, "The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit." That’s why we praise Him. He’s “the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort.” And then — as if it couldn’t get any better — He says, “Now go and give it away.” Not hoard it. Not hide it. Not keep it locked in your testimony like a trophy on a shelf. But spend it. Pour it out. Let the comfort you’ve received be the comfort you extend. Oh church, hear me in This… — if Christ is not your life, if all he is is a ticket to everlasting life, with no relationship, no love for the king, no love for the savior…., you don’t have access to that kind of comfort, nor do you have that kind of comfort to give. If Christ is not the center, you can’t give what you haven’t received. But if He is your life… then your pain becomes someone else’s hope. Your scars become someone else’s healing. Your story becomes someone else’s song of praise to the God who comforted you.
And here’s the sobering reality — if you’re a follower of Jesus, He’s not just calling you to admire His compassion, He’s calling you to join Him in it. Look with me in verse 15… As evening approached, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves some food.”16 Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.”
Feel the weight of this…— the disciples are looking at the situation through the lens and the filter of their lack. They are weighing the options. The hour is late. The location is remote. The crowd is massive. The resources are dwindling. And their solution? Push the problem away. ………You deal with it. You do it. Or send them away. Look with me again at verse 16.. 16 Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.” Before Jesus does anything with loaves or fish, He looks straight at His disciples and says, You do it. And immediately, you can almost see the panic in their eyes. They look at the crowd—thousands of people. They look at the hour—it’s late. They look at the location—it’s remote. And then they look down at their own hand at what recourses they have—five loaves, two fish. Nothing but a Hebrew lunchable. Their whole calculation, on whether or not they ill have compassion… is based on what they see in themselves. And the conclusion? This is impossible. And isn’t that exactly where so many of us live? We see the need—massive. We see the resources—tiny. And we default to the same line: ‘Send them away. Let someone else handle it. It’s not that I don’t care… it’s just that I can’t fix this. But here’s the reality—when you measure the need against your own supply, you will always come up short. You will always say, ‘It’s impossible.’ You will always try to preserve what you have. But when you measure the need against the power of Christ, you will hear Him say, ‘Bring it here to Me.’ He’s not asking for what you don’t have. He’s not waiting until you feel ready. He’s looking for what’s in your hands—however small—right now… and He’s saying, ‘Will you trust Me enough to give it away? Will you lay it down so I can multiply it for My glory? And here’s the danger, church—if you hold on to what you have because you think it’s too small, you rob yourself of seeing what God can do with it. That’s the tragedy in so many of our lives. We wait until we have more time before we serve. We wait until we have more money before we give. We wait until we feel more confident before we open our mouths about Christ. And all the while, Jesus is standing in front of us saying, ‘Bring Me what you have.’ Five loaves. Two fish. That’s it. That’s all I got.. But the miracle wasn’t in the loaves and fish. The miracle was in whose hands they were placed.
This week, I got to thinking about this… how many times I have walked away? How many times in my life I said, God, its impossible for me, that means its impossible for you. And I walked away, and I gave up and I didn’t trust in what little I had in his hands..… And in the midst of my walking away, was not just being overwhelmed,…. but unbelief. And I get emotional… because here’s the truth behind that kind of attitude… when I came face to face with that question, I recognized this… I make my faith about me. About my own provision. My own comfort. Not being Christ centered, but Matthew centered. Not for His glory… but for my convenience, my image, my comfort. I am no different than Peter. Because in this moment, the disciples were looking at what they had to give, and it wasn’t enough. And they knew it. But then I think of Peter, in the upper room, full of boldness, looking Jesus in the eye and saying, “Even if all fall away, I will not. I’m ready to go with You to prison and to death.” That’s Peter’s way of saying, “It’s possible for me.” And yet hours later, in the shadows of a courtyard, he’s swearing, “I don’t even know the man.” Not once. Not twice. But Three times. And when the rooster crowed, the boldness was gone, replaced by shame and the crushing weight of failure. That’s what happens when faith is about your strength, and your provision instead of His. That’s what happens when you build your confidence on what you think you can bring to the table. Because when you fail—and you will—you’re left believing you’ve disqualified yourself.
And I’ve watched it happen. (Thinking of Jims death) In just eight years of ministry, I’ve seen Gods people ravages just like Jesus says to Peter… Simon, Simon! Indeed, Satan has asked for you, that he may sift you as wheat” I’ve seen people who once served with passion get crushed under the weight of their own failures. Some walked away quietly, convinced God was done with them. However,… some carried shame until it consumed them. And yes, then I had to stand at gravesides, ministering at funerals for people who never made it back.
But listen closely—failure is not the end of your story. It never is with Jesus. Your failure doesn’t have to be final. Your mistake doesn’t have to define you. I need you to underhand that… when I think of successful people, I think about Jesse Cole, the owner of the Savannah Bananas baseball team. He talks about how they’ve failed hundreds of times—crazy ideas that didn’t work, things that flopped. But you know what? Even in their failures and bad decisions, they’ve become wildly successful. Because failure became a means of growth. And that’s true in your life, too. Failure can be a doorway. Failure can be a teacher. Failure can actually be the soil where God grows something new in you. Listen to what this verse from earlier.. says: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (2 Corinthians 1:3– Do you see it? God doesn’t waste your failures. He redeems them. He comforts you so you can comfort others. He restores you so you can restore others. He feeds you so you can feed others. Not in what you think your provisions is, but by placing that in his hands and trusting Christ will provide. And we don’t just see that in Paul’s words — we see that play out in Peter’s life. I want ot show you this…in John 21. Here’s Peter, the guy who denied Jesus three times. The guy who swore, “I’ll never leave You,” and then ran when it mattered most. Talk about failure. If anybody thought God was done with them, it was Peter. But watch what happens. The disciples had been out fishing all night. These were professional fishermen — and they caught nothing. Sound familiar? That’s Matthew 14 all over again. Hungry crowds. Empty hands. Not enough. And what does Jesus do in Matthew 14? He takes what little they had and feeds the multitudes. He meets the need.
And now here’s Peter in John 21 — empty nets, empty hands, and an empty heart, weighed down with shame. And once again, Jesus steps in. He calls from the shore, “Throw your nets on the other side.” Suddenly the nets are overflowing with fish. Just like before. But this time, it’s not just about the crowd. This miracle isn’t for the masses. It’s for one man. It’s for Peter. It’s Jesus saying, “Peter, I haven’t given up on you. I can still use you. I can take your failure, and your lack of faith and turn it into fruitfulness.” And then Jesus says the most ordinary, yet most powerful words… look with me in verse 12…: “Come and have breakfast.” No lecture. No shame. No “I told you so.” Just an invitation. “Come sit with Me. Come eat with Me. Come be restored.” And here’s what blows me away. In Matthew 14, when the disciples came to Jesus and said, “Send the crowds away so they can get food,” Jesus turned it right back on them: “No — YOU give them something to eat.” Did you catch that? Jesus was training them all along. He wasn’t just showing them His compassion — He was teaching them to carry it. He was preparing them to be the ones who would feed the hungry and care for the broken. He was showing them… to stop looking at your provision and look to me… Now fast forward back to John 21. Jesus restores Peter with three powerful words: “Feed my sheep.” Do you see the connection? In Matthew 14, it was “You feed them.” In John 21, it becomes “Feed my sheep.” Same call. Same heart. The difference is that in Matthew 14, it was about the crowd — in John 21, it’s about the one who failed. And this is where it gets so personal. Jesus doesn’t just feed you so you can feel full. He feeds you so you can feed others. He comforts you so you can comfort others. He restores you so you can restore others. I mean, I can’t make this stuff up! Think about it.. Both of these miracles — the feeding of the five thousand in Matthew 14 and the restoration of Peter in John 21 — have something in common. They are both centered on Jesus. Think about it. In Matthew 14, the disciples wanted to send the crowd away. They didn’t have the resources. They didn’t have a plan. But Jesus said, “Bring what you have to me.” And when they put it in His hands, He blessed it, broke it, and multiplied it. And then was used to love on people. In John 21, Peter carried the crushing weight of his failure. He denied the Lord three times. He couldn’t undo it. He couldn’t fix it. But Jesus didn’t leave him there. Jesus invited him to breakfast, forgave him, and gave him a new mission: “Feed my sheep.” It was Jesus who restored Peter. So that Peter could do what… love others. Do you see it? Both moments were impossible without Jesus. The disciples couldn’t feed the crowd. Peter couldn’t fix his failure. But Jesus could. And Jesus did.
And here’s the big point and as our worship team comes up to prepare us for communion. : God never comforts you just for you. He comforts you so that you can comfort others. That little phrase in 2 corinthians 1:4 …. — “so that” — it changes everything. God doesn’t bless you to stop with you. He blesses you so it can flow through you. He restores you so you can restore someone else. He feeds you so you can feed others. He takes your resources so that he can multiply it… form his glory.. not our own. That’s why Jesus says in Matthew 14, “You feed them.” And that’s why He tells Peter in John 21, “Feed my sheep.” It’s the same call, to every believer: Don’t just take in God’s mercy, pass it on. Don’t just receive or look for comfort, share it. Don’t just enjoy His grace, extend it. You see, church, you were not saved to sit. You were saved to serve. You were not redeemed to retreat. You were redeemed to reach out. Every single follower of Jesus is called into this mission. To make Christ, the center of the mission. But here’s the truth — you can’t feed anyone else until you’ve been fed by Him. You can’t comfort until you’ve been comforted. You can’t pour out grace until you’ve received it. And that’s why this table matters. Communion is not just bread and cup — it’s Jesus saying, “Come and eat. Come and be filled. Come and be restored. Come to. Be solely focused on me… not what you have… not what you think your gonna lose.. not what you want, but what he wants. So before we go out to serve, we come in to be nourished. Before we give, we receive. Before we carry the bread of life to the world, we take it into ourselves. This is where strength is found. This is where compassion begins. Here’s what I want us to do: as you come forward and take the bread and cup. And go, back to your seat and ask.. God, search my heart. Where, in my life have I not trusted you with what little I have.
And as you do that, we will take communion together here in a moment…
Pick up the communion… Ana tell story. Before we take communion, let me tell you a story. It was 1934, in Charlotte, North Carolina. A church had invited a preacher to hold revival meetings under a big tent. Night after night, people gathered. The place was packed. Every night. And one evening, two teenage boys showed up. They stood in the back for a moment, looked at the crowd, and decided, “There’s no way. No room for us. Let’s go home.” But before they could slip out, an ordinary usher saw them. Just a regular church man—no spotlight, no title, not a preacher, not famous. Just faithful. He walked over, put his hand on their shoulders, and said, “Come with me. I’ll find you a seat.” And he did. That’s all. Nothing dramatic. Nothing anyone else remembered. But that small act changed history. Because one of those teenage boys went forward that night and gave his life to Christ. His name? Billy Graham. His friend? Grady Wilson. The preacher? Was Mordecai Ham. You may know all those names. But…. you don’t know the usher’s name. Nobody remembers. Except God. And here’s what I want you to see: that unnamed usher fed the sheep of Jesus. He gave what little he had—his time, his kindness, his faithfulness—and through that, millions have been fed the gospel. And now—here we are. Jesus still says the same thing to His followers: “Feed My sheep.” Why? Because this is our Horizon: to bring the gospel to every heart, every neighborhood, and every generation—one relationship at a time. You See, church, sometimes the greatest barrier to compassion isn’t that we don’t care—it’s that we cling. We cling to comfort. We cling to security. We cling to provision. But the gospel shows us that the safest place for anything God gives us—our gifts, our time, our resources, our lives—is in His hands. And as we take this communion… lets remember, we don’t need to protect what we have—we need to plant what we’ve been given. Because Jesus didn’t save us to sit. He saved us to serve. He didn’t redeem us to retreat. He redeemed us to reach. He didn’t call us to hide, he called us to take this gospel, to every heart, every neighborhood, and every generation—one relationship at a time.
“This is the body of Christ, broken for you. This is the blood of Christ, shed for you.”
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