Compassion
God’s compassion means suffering is never beneath His concern. He sees weakness, grief, injustice, and need—and His care moves toward our good. Even when suffering is permitted, indifference is not the explanation.
Notice that compassion is more than awareness that suffering exists. Concern is not a detached observation. It involves being genuinely affected by the condition of the one who suffers.
When Scripture describes God as compassionate, it presents Him as emotionally affected by the suffering He witnesses. He is not standing at a distance, clinically observing pain. The suffering of His creatures matters to Him personally.
God is indeed perfect and self-sufficient, but creatures can still make a real difference to His relational experience.
Biblical Support
Exodus 34:6–7
I find Exodus 34:6–7 particularly interesting when thinking about God’s compassion because it comes immediately after one of Israel’s ugliest failures.
In Exodus 32, Israel worships the golden calf. Three thousand people are killed, a plague follows, and God later tells Moses that He will not personally go with the people to the Promised Land. It is easy to read that account and think, God’s a bit harsh. Is He not concerned about the suffering He has just permitted and judged?
God is clearly displeased with His people, and He is entirely justified in being so.
Yet Moses intercedes for Israel in Exodus 33:12–17, and God assures him, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest” (Ex. 33:14). Then, in the very next chapter, God passes before Moses and declares:
“The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin. Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished…” (Ex. 34:6–7)
That declaration is striking because God describes Himself as compassionate in the immediate aftermath of serious judgment against His own people. He forgives wickedness, rebellion, and sin, yet He also insists that guilt cannot simply be ignored.
His compassion and justice remain active at the same time.
God is moved by the suffering of His people while still judging sin.
Psalm 103:13–14
Psalm 103:13–14 is fascinating because it appears to reflect directly on God’s dealings with Israel in Moses’ time. Look at the context:
“He made known his ways to Moses,
his deeds to the people of Israel:
The LORD is compassionate and gracious,
slow to anger, abounding in love.
He will not always accuse,
nor will he harbor his anger forever;
he does not treat us as our sins deserve
or repay us according to our iniquities.
For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is his love for those who fear him;
as far as the east is from the west,
so far has he removed our transgressions from us.
As a father has compassion on his children,
so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him;
for he knows how we are formed,
he remembers that we are dust.”
(Ps. 103:7–14, emphasis mine)
Compare Psalm 103:8—“The LORD is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love”—with Exodus 34:6: “The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.”
David appears to be deliberately echoing Exodus 34. But then he takes the reflection further. After speaking about God’s anger, forgiveness, and mercy, he explains His compassion in terms of human frailty:
“As a father has compassion on his children,
so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him;
for he knows how we are formed,
he remembers that we are dust.”
That suggests God’s compassion is tied not only to suffering, but also to weakness and limitation. He knows what human beings are made of. He knows how easily we fail, how limited our strength is, and how vulnerable we are.
I think it is reasonable to go one step further and infer that God’s compassion can remain present even when the suffering His people experience is connected to His own discipline. The text does not state that explicitly, so I would keep it as an inference rather than a conclusion. But Psalm 103 does seem to show that God takes human frailty into account in the way He deals with His people.
Matthew 9:36
Jesus sees a crowd of people and has compassion on them for a very specific reason:
“When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, ‘The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.’” (Matt. 9:36–38)
Matthew connects Christ’s compassion to the “harassed and helpless” condition of the people. The language describes people who are distressed, vulnerable, and without adequate care. The image of “sheep without a shepherd” also reaches back into an established Old Testament picture of Israel and its leaders.
Ezekiel 34 is especially interesting:
“The word of the LORD came to me: ‘Son of man, prophesy against the shepherds of Israel; prophesy and say to them: “This is what the Sovereign LORD says: Woe to you shepherds of Israel who only take care of yourselves! Should not shepherds take care of the flock? … You have not strengthened the weak or healed the sick or bound up the injured. You have not brought back the strays or searched for the lost. You have ruled them harshly and brutally. So they were scattered because there was no shepherd…”’” (Ezek. 34:1–5)
They care for themselves while neglecting the flock. They do not strengthen the weak, heal the sick, protect the vulnerable, recover the strays, or search for the lost. Some of them are not merely neglectful; God says they have ruled the people “harshly and brutally.”
Now look at what Matthew has shown Jesus doing immediately before he tells us that the crowds are like sheep without a shepherd.
In Matthew 8:28–34, Jesus delivers men suffering under demonic oppression. In Matthew 9:2–8, He forgives and heals a paralyzed man while the teachers of the law accuse Him of blasphemy. In Matthew 9:9–13, He calls Matthew and eats with tax collectors and sinners while the Pharisees criticize Him for doing so. In Matthew 9:18–26, He responds to a desperate father, heals a woman who has been bleeding for twelve years, and raises a dead girl. Then, in Matthew 9:32–34, He frees another demon-possessed man while the Pharisees respond by accusing Him of acting through the prince of demons.
Only after showing us all of that does Matthew say:
“When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” (Matt. 9:36)
That sequence is fascinating.
The Old Testament repeatedly describes Israel’s leaders as shepherds responsible for caring for God’s people. In Ezekiel 34, those shepherds have failed. The sheep are weak, injured, scattered, and vulnerable while their leaders care for themselves.
Matthew has just spent more than a chapter showing Jesus doing precisely the kinds of things those shepherds were supposed to do: seeking people who were marginalized, healing the sick, confronting spiritual oppression, restoring people, teaching them, and caring for those whom others had neglected. Meanwhile, some of the religious leaders repeatedly criticize Him for doing it.
I do not think we should claim that Matthew 9:36 explicitly identifies the Pharisees as the shepherds of Ezekiel 34. But the parallel is difficult to miss. Jesus is acting like a good shepherd in the middle of a people He describes as badly shepherded.
And Ezekiel 34 becomes even more interesting when God responds to the failure of Israel’s leaders:
“I myself will search for my sheep and look after them.” (Ezek. 34:11)
God does not observe what has happened to His people, feel compassion, and then twiddle His thumbs. He acts. Ezekiel later adds that God will place over them “one shepherd, my servant David” (Ezek. 34:23). So the chapter contains both promises: God Himself will shepherd His people, and He will give them the Davidic shepherd they need.
Then we encounter Jesus.
Matthew 9 shows Him caring for Israel’s sick, wounded, rejected, and oppressed. He sees the crowds and recognizes the same basic problem: the sheep need shepherding.
But Jesus also recognizes something else. The need is too great for the work to remain concentrated in Him alone.
So the metaphor shifts.
“The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few.” (Matt. 9:37)
He tells His disciples to ask God for workers—and then Matthew 10 immediately shows Jesus doing something about it. He summons the Twelve, gives them authority, and sends them specifically to:
“the lost sheep of Israel.” (Matt. 10:6)
He tells them:
“As you go, proclaim this message: ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons.” (Matt. 10:7–8)
They are now sent under His authority to participate in the same kind of ministry Matthew has just shown Jesus performing.
God’s compassion is not passive sentiment.
In Ezekiel 34, He sees what failed shepherds have done to His people and commits Himself to their care. In Matthew, Jesus encounters people who are still harassed, vulnerable, sick, rejected, and spiritually oppressed. He has compassion on them—and then He acts. When the need becomes greater than the work being done, He multiplies the workers.
God’s compassion is real and action-oriented. He sees suffering, genuinely cares about the one who suffers, and His concern moves toward their good.
What Does Compassion Require?
If God can prevent suffering and does not immediately remove it, does that mean He lacks compassion?
No.
Compassion cannot be reduced to “stop every painful thing immediately.” There are many cases in Scripture where God permits suffering and then works through that suffering to accomplish a greater good.
The Cross is the clearest example. God did not merely observe humanity’s ruin from a distance; in Christ, He entered into suffering and acted for our good.
“But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
and by his wounds we are healed.”
Isaiah 53:5
Isaiah directly connects Christ’s suffering with our peace and healing. His suffering was not evidence of divine indifference. It was part of the means by which God acted for our good.
So permission for suffering is not the same thing as indifference. God can permit suffering while remaining genuinely compassionate toward those affected by it.
Lazarus: Compassion Even When the Outcome Is Known
John 11 gives us an especially important picture of compassion because Jesus already knows how the story is going to end. He knows Lazarus is sick, knows he will die, and knows He is going to raise him. Yet He deliberately waits before going to Bethany because He knows how the Father will use what happens to strengthen the faith of those present (Jn. 11:42).
By the time He arrives, Mary and the others are grieving.
John says:
“When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.” (Jn. 11:33)
I would be the first to acknowledge that there is interpretive complexity here. Jesus’ emotional response may involve more than grief alone. The language of being “deeply moved” may carry anger or indignation, and the chapter is saturated with themes of belief and unbelief.
But the immediate context still connects His response to the suffering He sees around Him. The people are grieving, and some are struggling to understand what He is doing.
Then:
“Jesus wept.” (Jn. 11:35)
Jesus knows Lazarus will live again. He also expects what is about to happen to affect the faith of those present (Jn. 11:42). But knowing that suffering will end does not make the suffering meaningless while it is happening. He does not treat their grief as beneath His concern. He responds to it emotionally.
Compassion and Justice
This is a very powerful combination of the attributes of God. As someone who has been victimized multiple times, I depend heavily on God’s compassion and take enormous comfort in His justice.
When I was younger, I would read Revelation and be perplexed by the people who cry out:
“How long, Sovereign Lord, holy and true, until you judge the inhabitants of the earth and avenge our blood?” (Rev. 6:10)
I mean, why don’t they just forgive their murderers?
A tad bit naïve of me, I know.
There is no reason to believe they had not forgiven them. Forgiveness does not require pretending that injustice no longer matters. It releases the victim from personal vengeance and allows ultimate judgment to remain where Scripture says it belongs—with God.
“Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord.” (Rom. 12:19)
Now that I am older and have a little more experience with life, I relate much more to those who cried out for justice. I can forgive while still recognizing that my abusers should be held accountable for what they did. The fact that they may escape earthly justice does not mean they escape justice altogether.
Either they repent, in which case the Cross becomes the answer to my call for justice because the wrong done to me is among the sins Christ bore, or they remain accountable for that wrong themselves.
That is where God’s compassion and justice become deeply personal for me.
His compassion for me means that what was done to me matters and deserves to be answered. His justice answers that demand by treating evil as seriously as it deserves.
But His compassion does not stop with me.
I have also harmed people. God cares about the people I have wronged just as surely as He cares about me. So the same justice I long for on my own behalf is also justice I myself need mercy from.
That creates an uncomfortable but necessary tension.
I need justice for what was done to me, while also needing mercy for what I have done to others.
And that is why the Cross matters so much.
At the Cross, God does not have to ignore my guilt in order to show me mercy, nor does He have to abandon compassion for the victim in order to forgive the guilty. If the person who harmed me repents, the wrong done to me is not waved away—it is judged in Christ. And when I repent of the harm I have caused, the same Cross answers the legitimate claims of those I have wronged.
God can care for the victim, condemn the wrong, and still offer grace to the guilty.
Where That Leaves Us
God’s compassion does not give us an explanation for every suffering He permits. It tells us something about the God who allows it: suffering is not beneath His notice, human weakness is not contemptible to Him, and His decision not to prevent a particular pain cannot by itself establish that He does not care.
God’s compassion does not promise that we will never suffer. It tells us that our suffering is never beneath His concern.
All Scripture quotations are from the New International Version (NIV).