Last year, I was giving my “Ring Thing” talk on Luke 15:22 at an event at Eastgate. During the ministry time, a woman came forward for the symbolic ring activation. I could see she was visibly upset. As I placed a ring on her finger, she nearly collapsed in tears. But before I could speak to her, she slipped away quietly.
A week later, I ran into her again at the Heaven in Healthcare Conference—she was greeting attendees at the door. She stopped me and said, “I’m so sorry for making a scene last week.” Then she explained that she’d always had a deep phobia of medics, and she knew I was one. “But,” she said, “when I came forward, I saw the compassion in your eyes, and my fear melted away.” Her act of courage—facing that phobia—opened the door for God to move powerfully in her. And now, there she was, welcoming a multitude of healthcare workers at the entrance!
Compassion: The Overflowing Kind
In Mark 6:34, we read: “When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd.”
The Greek word used here for “compassion” is splagchnizomai—which literally means “to have your bowels yearn.” Back then, the bowels were considered the seat of deep emotion, especially love and pity. And in this particular verse, the Greek repeats the word: splagchnizomai splagchnizomai. A tidal wave of compassion! It’s like when Jesus says, “Truly, truly”—repetition for emphasis. This phrase is used multiple times in the Gospels. Compassion isn’t just a feeling—it’s a powerful divine force that moves Jesus into action.
Healthcare Without Compassion?
I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen healthcare stripped of compassion. It can become cold, clinical—indifferent to suffering. And in burnout? Compassion fatigue can turn even the kindest hearts into the emotionally empty. Sometimes we’re so drained, we begin to resent those in front of us just for needing something.
So again—how are your bowels? How’s your compassion level? Are you still moved by people’s pain? Do others see love in your eyes? My prayer is that your answer is a resounding yes! But if it isn’t, or you’re unsure, you’re not alone. As Christians, we don’t have a monopoly on compassion—but we do have access to the only source that never runs dry: Jesus. Only He can refresh and renew your soul when the tank is empty.
The Lake, the Plane, and the Splash
There’s a scene in the 1989 film Always that God used to speak to me. Two men are fishing quietly on a lake when a massive firefighting plane swoops in, scoops up water, and roars overhead— in fear the men jump out of the boat and into the lake!
The fishermen—the “churchgoers”—might say: “How rude! These healthcare people don’t follow the quiet rhythms of our spiritual life. They just fly in, grab what they need from God, and rush off again!”
But the pilot—the healthcare worker—thinks: “There’s a fire! I’m empty. I need to refuel, fast. Here’s the supply, and I need to pour it out again as soon as I can.”
Sound familiar? But here’s the twist. In the movie, the fishermen end up not just wet—but immersed. That’s the goal. Not just a polite dip in God’s presence, but total immersion in the water of life.
Too Far Gone? Not a Chance.
Maybe you feel too dry. Too sinful. Too stuck in old patterns. But compassion from Father God doesn’t arrive because we’ve earned it—it comes when we realise the only thing we bring to our salvation is the sin that made it necessary. The parts of yourself you cringe at? Those are often the very places God leans in to embrace you most.
Remember Narnia? It was winter always, never Christmas—until Aslan came. When he moved, winter couldn’t help but melt into spring. Let Him move in your soul.
Immerse Yourself
So can I encourage you—immerse yourself in Him. Feel His love and forgiveness. Personally, I’ve found that soaking in Scripture twice a day helps me stay anchored. I try to take real time off, set space aside for Him, and surround myself with people who speak prophetically and pray into my life.
Why? Because I know I can’t give from emptiness. I want to give from fullness. And when I’m full of Jesus, sometimes, just sometimes, He peeks out from behind my eyes—and a woman battling fear finds healing.
That’s my plan. What’s yours?
