Practical Compassion

In two recent blog posts, I've argued that embodied compassion, a willingness to suffer with others and embrace the path of downward mobility, is at the heart of the good life as demonstrated by Christ. Even just typing that sentence, though, is a reminder of how easy it is to slip into rhetoric instead of maintaining a practical grasp on what exactly the good life in Christ looks like. So, today, I want to do my best to describe something of what the compassionate life might actually look like, in practice.

Of course, in order to do that I have to start with a giant caveat: there is no one picture of the good life, because if we're doing it right, it will be tailored to our community, our circumstances, the needs around us and within ourselves. The compassionate life will look unique every time, because God has a way of making us most ourselves when we are being used for God's purposes and plan. So everything I'm about to say will be as general as it possibly can be without slipping back into theory, but there is a certain level of specificity that comes with the real life of compassion that just won't be possible to capture.

Let's begin with community. On a real, practical level, compassion demands that we spend good time, in both quality and quantity, with other people in order to get to know their suffering. One of the truths of the gospel is that everyone who is not completely and utterly in Christ (so, everyone alive) is suffering in some way. No one escapes suffering in this life, so the more we get to know someone, the more we will learn the unique ways that they suffer, and we can begin to practice compassion.

To be clear: not all suffering is objectively equal. Someone whose worst pain is an annoying family member is not suffering in the same way or to the same degree as someone undergoing intense chemotherapy. Yet trying to play the game of comparative suffering is usually a bad idea, and not worth the time anyway. The goal of compassion is to be able to recognize the legitimate hurt in another person, whether that's from illness, loss of a loved one, divorce, a terrible boss, or a ruined vacation. We can laugh or cringe at the spoiled child (of any age) who lets a poorly-made latte ruin their morning. But the sign of a mature practicioner of compassion is one whose heart breaks for that person, not because of their latte but because of their spiritual poverty; and then can gently, lovingly come alongside even the spoiled child and open their eyes to what's really important.

If you haven't intentionally practiced compassion before, it's a good idea to start with those in your immediate circle, whose concerns might be more relatable to your own. Empathy alone is not compassion, but compassion does begin at empathy, so we must learn to flex those muscles by understanding the suffering of another and then finding out what it means to come alongside them within their suffering. After some practice, we will find it a little easier to do the same with those whose suffering is less immediately like our own, and so the climb down the ladder into the heart of compassion can truly begin.

Let me dig in a bit deeper on the idea of "coming alongside" someone, which is the basis of the distinction between empathy and compassion. On a practical level, what does that really mean? While it's hard to describe succintly, it's actually fairly intuitive in person. We've all heard (or said) something like "I'll pray for you!" or "I'm so sorry for you." These are the words of sympathy and/or empathy, but they allow us to keep our distance. I can theoretically be praying for you anywhere.

Compassion, therefore, begins with presence. Norm Shoemaker, a professor of mine in college and a wonderful pastor of many years, had a regular saying that I've since borrowed: "99% of ministry is just showing up." What Norm meant by that was not that it was good enough just to show up, but rather that good ministry is the act of showing up, over and over again, being there with people. "Just show up" might as well be the slogan for compassion. We can't do compassion from afar, that's not how it works. Literally, physically be there; if you are forced to be far away, then stay in regular communication and really be there in spirit.

If you get that part right, then the rest of "coming alongside someone" will become clear. When we're distant, we don't know what people need. But when you're up close with someone, present with them often, it usually becomes clear what they need, or how we can best love them. That doesn't mean you're always going to get it right, or that you'll never have to ask what someone needs; but even those mistakes or questions will be informed by the time you've spent with that other person in a way they wouldn't be if you were simply dropping in from a distance.

If presence is the biggest part of compassion, the second biggest is self-examination, developing the capacity to be honest with yourself. Why is this so important? First, because even empathy, let alone compassion, are impossible as long as you're obsessed with your own suffering. Compassion involves a certain amount of ability to get outside yourself; not the level of self-negation preached in Buddhism, but a capacity to put your desires, your pain, your will in perspective without losing them. This is a balancing act that can't be maintained without healthy self-reflection. Someone who can't get outside themselves is narcissistic; someone who is entirely outside themselves becomes at best a therapist for others' pain, which has some value but is not the same as compassion. Real compassion requires us to acknowledge our own suffering, but rather than fixating upon it, allowing it to become a source of our connection with and compassion for others.

Of course, laid over and layered within all of this must be dependence on God, which comes through a life of prayer and spiritual practice. We will only have the strength to face up to our own suffering, while also seeing it properly instead of letting it dominate our lives, if we are able to offer that suffering to God and allow God to use it for good. The compassionate life is a surrendered life, because as we grow into compassion we willingly step forward into suffering. Such a choice is unthinkable to those who are not surrendered to God; we imagine life to be about the avoidance of suffering, at the very least. Yet the one who surrenders to God slowly comes to learn that the only way to assure yourself of suffering is to try and avoid it. And paradoxically, the best way to alleviate your own suffering is to become deeply compassionate, stepping willingly into the suffering of others.