Radical Compassion

Compassion. Jesus had it. And we have a lot to learn.

I read recently that the transgender community has an exceptionally high suicide rate—as high as 41%.[1] I suppose the absolute accuracy of that percentage could be challenged, but that question misses the point. We should be able to look past minutia, grant that the suicide rate among transgender individuals is astonishingly high, and call it a tragedy. Because it is.

That any group of people—meaning any community of individuals who bear God’s image—would habitually commit suicide, the ultimate act of image-destruction, demands reflection.  Yet, for various reasons, born-again believers struggle to summon compassion for individuals whose actions cry out for it. Perhaps politically vocal organizations like GLAAD spoil our zeal. Or, perhaps gay, lesbian, and transgender activity disgusts us. Maybe we resent the broad changes happening to our society. Whatever the cause, disgust is a distinctly pharisaical trait. As for righteous indignation, it’s typically the easiest emotion to conjure. Jesus displays it on occasion, but he usually reserves it for Israel’s religious elite. When it comes to interaction with the deceived, rather than the deceivers, he displays great patience and kindness. In John 4, Jesus shows us how to dialogue with and display compassion for those caught in the bonds of sexual sin.

The woman at the well represents Jesus’s cultural opposite—a fact the woman herself underscores by highlighting both the racial tension and religious hatred  that existed between Jews and Samaritans. John notes these differences more for the sake of his readers than for the actors in the drama.

As with most obvious differences, they’re beside the point.

John hints at the key issue in verse 6 when noting Jesus met the woman midday. This woman is an outcast who avoids early morning crowds lest she face even more social embarrassment. We learn, of course, that the woman is trapped in sexual sin- she’s had five husbands and has given up on the institution altogether, instead preferring common-law status. Notice, however, Jesus’s discretion. We’re given access to a private conversation that’s repeated neither to the disciples nor to the crowds that emerge. In His omniscience, Jesus always knows everything about our sin; in His infinite mercy, Jesus rarely reveals anything about our sin.

So Jesus hones in on her lifestyle. This woman yearns for fulfillment that neither water nor relationships nor illicit sexual encounters have quenched. She’s gone down the rabbit hole and that journey gets more twisted and less satisfying as she descends. As they talk, she tries to turn the conversation to surface level, easy-to-grasp concerns that can be summed up as follows: we’re different. Jesus brushes her superficial talk aside and pursues the main point – He has something that will satisfy. He tells her about a spiritual God that is not worshipped in this particular place or that, that is not worshipped by this particular people group or that, but will be worshipped in spirit and in truth.

The Savior assumes a deep yearning that only He can quench. Jesus – the same yesterday, today, and forever – is still the only Person who can satisfy those deep yearnings.

I think it’s safe to assume that our culture will continue its trend toward sexual extremes. The temptation for Protestant Christianity is to feel besieged morally and to lash out in frustration and disgust at our culture’s hyper-sexual flaunting of God’s laws. Jesus, on the other hand, sees someone who is hurting – someone whose inherent value far exceeds the destructiveness of her  sin. And just in case we think John 4 was the exception to Jesus’s merciful reactions toward sexual entrapment, John 8 demonstrates an equally gracious attitude toward the woman caught in adultery. “What about Sodom?” you say. Let us not forget that Jesus (as the Pre-incarnate angel of the Lord) was willing to spare the city for the sake of a mere 10 righteous individuals.

I suppose it shouldn’t surprise us that an exceptionally high number of transgender individuals attempt to take their own lives. If one pursues every sexual extreme, breaks every gender and relational norm, and, as a result, experiences exclusion from his or her  family, then yes, it’s no surprise.  Still, when it comes to reaching out to these people, it doesn’t really matter if they created these consequences by driving away those who reject their lifestyle and by inviting sexually exploitative people into their lives. Grace is always undeserved.

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So how should we start showing compassion to those caught in the bonds of sexual sin? May I suggest a book that challenged my presuppositions on the topic — The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert by Dr. Rosaria Butterfield.

Start there. Drink deeply from the grace that God supplied to this dear woman. If you’re unafraid of hard thoughts, if you’re willing to dig beneath the superficial, easy, convenient conclusions that Christians often come to about people in the bonds of sexual sin, allow Dr. Butterfield to stretch your perspective on those enslaved to sexual desire.