Compassion Gone Awry, by Paula Hendricks Marsteller

Dannah Gresh: Paula Hendricks Marsteller makes a powerful statement.

Paula Hendricks Marsteller: If people can say of you, “That woman is my refuge and my strength and my ever-present help in trouble,” instead of being able to say that of God, there is a problem.

Dannah: This is the Revive Our Hearts podcast with Nancy DeMoss Wolgemuth, author of LiesWomen Believe and the Truth That Sets Them Free, for July 4, 2024. I’m Dannah Gresh.

Nancy DeMoss Wolgemuth: Well, happy Independence Day—if you’re here in the United States.

No matter where you live, can I ask you to take time today to pray for our country? Pray for our president, our lawmakers, our Supreme Court justices, our local officials. Ask God to give them a sense of the fear of the Lord along with wisdom to make good decisions. And, as the apostle Paul said in his first letter to Timothy, “Pray for all those who are in authority so that we may lead a tranquil and quiet life in all godliness and dignity.”

Holidays can be a nice break from our routines, a chance to reconnect with friends and family. But we never want to take a break from loving God and showing love to our neighbors.

All this month here on Revive Our Hearts, we’re reminding ourselves of our need to show compassion to those around us. There’s something we need to watch out for, though, and that’s what our speaker today is going to talk about.

Paula Hendricks Marsteller is a wife, a mom, and an author. She served for a number of years here on the staff at Revive Our Hearts. She joined us at the Sisters in Ministry Summit a while back. In her message, she helped us distinguish between true God-centered compassion and a fake people-centered compassion. Let’s listen. Here’s Paula Hendricks Marsteller.

Paula: There’s a character I resonate with in a popular comic book and movie series. She has a goofy-looking antennae on her head. Her super power is sensing people’s emotions and then altering them. I resonate a lot with that character.

My antennae are not visible, but I walk into a room, and I instantly scan and see who feels the most left out, who seems to be in emotional distress, and I run to that person and try to make them feel loved and comfortable.

I remember one day, shortly after I moved to New York, I was walking out of the gym. I saw a woman on a corner. and she was obviously in distress. so I went up to her. I learned her name, found out what was going on, and then began to pray with her.

She had just been robbed. In the middle of my prayer, the police came. When I was done, one of the police quietly called me over to himself and said (in a whispered voice), “You might not want to get so close to Wanda, she’s on heroin.

I was shocked. I’d never been around druggies. That’s just kind of a picture of who I was—very naive, running into situations, thinking that I would help.

At first glance, that sounds like a really good thing. But I learned recently that there’s a dark side to this compassion. I think that’s because even our gifts have been affected by the curse. Even our strengths have a weak side to them.

I woke up a couple months ago and realized I was so “peopled out.” I was going morning to evening trying to meet all the needs. We have a lot of people in to our home, so, inviting people into my home.

I remember there was one time our family was about to go somewhere. At the last minute, someone called and asked if they could use our dryer. We said, “Yes.” And I said to my husband, “I’m not going to offer them supper because we have to go.”

Well, they walked into our home, and instantly, I’m, like, (in a happy voice) “Can I make you some pancakes?” (laughter) And I give them food.

I had just seen in my life that lately my compassion had turned to compulsion.

So compassion . . . dictionary.com defines as “a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for someone who’s stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate their suffering.” It literally means “to suffer with.”

Compulsion, on the other hand, is “a strong, usually irresistible impulse to perform an act for someone that’s actually either irrational or against your will.” Insane. Right?

So, outwardly, I looked very compassionate, but Romans 12:8 calls us to do acts of mercy with—what? With cheerfulness. And I was doing them with resentment. 

I wonder if you can relate? Has your compassion gone awry? Do you feel responsible for others?

Now, of course God calls us to love others as we love ourselves. But He calls us to exercise self-control, not others-control. There’s only so much that we can do and, really, just regarding ourselves 

I wonder also, Do you feel like you need to meet every single need you see? I realize that not everybody in the Body of Christ has the gift of sight. I can generally spot a need, but that doesn’t mean that I have to meet every single need I see.

Assuming that that person has not asked for my confidentiality, I can go to the Body of Christ and say, “Hey, there’s this need over here. Can you meet it with your gifts?”

And they’re, like, “Oh, yeah! I never would have known. Of course!”

It reminds me a little bit of Jethro when he went to visit Moses. He’s, like, “What you are doing is not good. The people are coming around you day and night, and you are wearing yourself out. Raise up some able men to help you judge.”

Another question for you: do you feel resentment because you are so busy taking care of everybody else’s needs that you are overlooking your own family’s needs, your own home’s needs, your own personal needs?

That was me until one day I happened to hear a sentence on Emily Freeman’s podcast: “The Next Right Thing.” What she said stopped me in my tracks. She said something along the lines of, “You can ignore your personal desires. You can stuff them down. But they will come out eventually, but they’re going to come out sideways in the forms of frustration and anxiety.”

Anxiety has been a very close friend of mine for a lot of years. When I heard that, I thought, Is it possible that there’s actually another way to live? I actually have a choice in how I live. So I stepped back, and I took stock. I think I was in the kitchen at that point. I just looked around me, and I thought, You know, I cannot say with the psalmist, “My cup overflows,” but I can say, “My counters overflow.”

I had unpaid bills. I had returns to be made. I had multiple, unopened, handwritten letters from a friend. But who has time to read handwritten letters when you’re so busy trying to solve the world’s problems?

And on top of that, there were all of these kitchen moths, pantry moths flying around my head. I’m doing this (slapping sounds). I’m not clapping out of joy, but trying to kill them. And my husband had asked me multiple times to find out where they were coming from and to take care of them.

I had, I thought, figured out that they were in this specific counter . . . the top right. So I meant to find the time to unload everything from the cabinet and clean it out so that I could attack the eggs that they were laying that were then turning into maggots that were then turning into these pantry moths. But I didn’t have time for that. That’s super disgusting, I know! (laughter) I realized that we’re having people in our home, and we’ve got pantry moths.

But on top of that, on my second-to-last toe I had . . . It just looked disgusting. It looked like the toe of an old woman. (laughter) So finally, when I went to the doctor for some sickness, I thought, I’m going to ask about my toe. 

And he said, “You can have your toe back. All you have to do is soak your foot in apple cider vinegar for ten to fifteen minutes a day for a year, and then you’ll get your toe back.” I was super excited. I bought a big jug of apple cider vinegar, and I’ve done it once. (laughter) Too many neighbors to care for my toe. 

Also, after two pregnancies, I really have wanted to restore my strength and be as strong as I can be for my husband and my sons. So, I started some pelvic-floor physical therapy. One of the exercises that my therapist told me to do was, whenever I sit on the toilet, to do ten deep-breathing exercises to relax my pelvic floor. I have not done that once because, seriously, who has time for ten deep-breathing exercises? Certainly not a mom of a two-year old and an eight-month old. (laughter)

I have a long way to go on this journey, obviously, but I want to welcome you to join me in asking yourself some questions.

One of those was: are you finding yourself resentful because you’re so busy taking care of everybody’s needs out there, but you’re not caring for the needs right around you and on you?

Have you forgotten your creature-liness? Psalm 103:13–14 says, “As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear Him.” Why? “For He knows our frame. He remembers that we’re dust.”

God has compassion for you and for me because He knows that we were made out of dust, but we are returning to dust, and that it is only His breath in us that gives us life.

Job 33:4 says, “The Spirit of God has made me, and the breath of the Almighty gives me life.”

Do you remember your frailty, your dependence on God? Or do you, like me, mistakenly play the role of redeemer, of rescuer, of savior? Do you forget that you’re the sheep, not the shepherd? Are you aware of your boundaries and your limits?

 

Now, I’m not calling you to sit down, put your feet up, take long bubble baths every day, to go to bed by eight p.m. every night. But I do wonder, Do you recognize the limits that you have of place, of time, and of body?

God, on the other hand, unlike us, is not limited by a body. He’s spirit. God is not limited by time. He’s outside of time. God is not limited by place. In 2 Chronicles 6:18, Solomon says, “Behold, heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you. How much less this house I have built!”

God alone can meet every need that we see because God alone has no limits, no boundaries. So, compassion goes awry when you and I forget this about God. It’s not the only way that we get God wrong.

I’ve gotten the gospel. I feel like it’s gone deep in me. And yet, often my life reflects that I am viewing God more as a task master with whip in hand, driving me to work harder, to sweat more, to produce greater results.

This faulty view of God turns compassion into compulsion. It turns privilege into pain. It turns delight into drudgery. It turns joyful service into slavery.

The Bible paints such a different picture of our God. Turn with me to Exodus 3:7–8. God’s people are slaves in Egypt. They’ve been here for years. When they think it can’t get any worse, their task masters pile even heavier burdens on them. And what does God say in verses 7–8?

Then the Lord said, ‘I have surely seen the affliction of my people who are in Egypt. [That is the first step in compassion: seeing the need] and have heard their cry because of their task masters. I know their suffering, and I have come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey.”

And, as you know, God does deliver them.

So I just want to ask, is it possible that you have been viewing God as a task master with whip in hand? Do you feel like He’s disappointed in you because you’re not pulling your weight in the kingdom?

I started noticing something disturbing about myself recently. (I guess I’ve been noticing lots of disturbing things about myself recently.) You should know that I have a hard time resting. It’s not that I work smart. I don’t. I just work constantly and rarely sit. When people are over at our house, I’m always multitasking—folding laundry or washing the dishes or making a meal.

In those few, very rare moments when I would actually just take a minute to sit down, I began to notice that if I heard someone walk in the door, I’d instantly jump back up and start working again because I didn’t want anybody to think that I was lazy.

I wonder, What does your relationship with work and service look like? Do you believe that it’s okay for you to stop and rest?

After God delivers His people from Egypt, He shares with Moses who He is, in Exodus 34:6–7. You might think of it as His bio. (As you know, people usually include the most important thing at the beginning of their bio.) It begins: “The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.”

And I wonder, Do our actions indicate that possibly we are thinking that we are more compassionate than God? Do our actions possibly lead others to believe that we’re more compassionate than God?

If people can say of you, “That woman is my refuge and my strength and my ever-present help in trouble,” instead of being able to say that of God, there is a problem.

So, back to this compassionate God, after delivering them from slavery in Egypt, He makes a covenant with them. And for their part of the covenant, He gives ten commandments. Do you remember what that fourth commandment is a command to? A command to sabbath, to rest. Does that sound like the command of a slave driver?

Let’s read that together. Exodus 20:8–11: 

Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God; on it you shall not do any work, you, or your son, or your daughter, your male servant or your female servant, or your livestock, or your sojourner who is within your gates. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea and all that is in them, and rested on the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.

I wonder, Are you keeping this command, this creation ordinance written in stone? Because, if you’re not, your compassion is bound to go awry, to freeze up and dry because God knows that we need a one-in-seven day to rest and worship Him.

So compassion goes awry when we develop a warped view of God. Compassion also goes awry when, in our empathy, we point people in the wrong direction.

Once there was a man who wanted a specific plot of land for a garden. So he went to the owner of that garden and said, “Here. I’ll offer you a fair . . . more than a fair price for your land.” And that man refused his offer. And so the man who had wanted the plot of land went home and threw himself down on his bed, sulked, and refused to eat anything.

His wife saw that he was struggling, and so she went up to him and asked what was the matter. And he said, “I wanted this land, but he won’t give it to me.”

And she said, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. I’ll take care of that for you.”

She was compassionate toward her husband. She took note of his suffering. She empathized with him, and she said, “I’ll take action on your behalf.” Only, the way that she secured that vegetable garden for her husband was by concocting a scheme that got the innocent owner, Naboth, killed. The story, of course, is found in 1 Kings 21.

You say, “Well, Paula, I’d never encourage anybody to kill a man.” And I understand that. But, say a friend came to you and told you that she was repulsed by her husband and that she was attracted to another man.

Would you, not wanting to offend her, out of your compassion, would you support her? Or would you urge her to remain faithful to God’s commands to her husband?

We’re told in Ephesians 4:15 that the way that the body builds itself up and grows into Christ is by speaking the truth in love. Compassion at the expense of truth isn’t compassion. It’s compassion gone awry.

 

At the same time, compassion goes awry when we blast each other with the truth. Turn with me to Job chapter 2. Job, Psalms, Proverbs . . . right in the middle of your Bible. Job, chapter 2:11–13.

Now as you know, Job had just learned, probably in the course of just a couple of minutes, that he had just lost virtually everything—7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 yoke of oxen, 500 donkeys, many servants, and his seven sweet sons and his three precious daughters. Word spread fast, and his friends came to comfort him. And they really started out so well.

Now when Job’s three friends heard of all this evil that had come upon him, they came, each from his own place—Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite. They made an appointment together to come to show him sympathy and comfort him. And when they saw him from a distance, they did not recognize him. And they raised their voices and wept. And they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads toward heaven. And they sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.

I don’t think we give these friends enough credit. They wept for him. They gave expression to their own grief by tearing their clothes, sprinkling dust on their heads. And to sit for an entire week without speaking a word . . . I cannot fathom that kind of self-control. It completely blows my mind.

But then in chapters 4 and 5, Eliphaz explodes with words. What unfolds is something like a boxing match. In chapter 8 Bildad follows suit. And then it’s Zophar’s turn to shame Job in chapter 11. Then Eliphaz is back in the ring in chapter 15. Bildad in chapter 18. And Zophar gets in his shots in chapter 20. Then for a third time, Eliphaz takes Job on in chapter 22. Bildad picks up in chapter 25.

Zophar apparently is done, but then we find out someone else has been sitting by quietly this entire time—a younger man named Elihu. He comes out swinging in anger and unleashes on Job in chapters 32 through 37.

And here’s the thing: they have some good theology. Remember that verse I quoted earlier from Job, “The Spirit of God has made me, the breath of the Almighty gives me life”? Angry Elihu said that.

But where’s the listening? Where are the questions? It doesn’t seem like they want to understand, only to share their opinions. I see a whole lot of assumptions, a whole lot of superiority, a whole lot of monologuing, and a whole lot of judgment. And you know what? I am afraid that I am not much different from these friends.

I have two friends who have recently gone through separations from their husbands over abuse.

One of them a couple years ago told me that she was having a hard time in her marriage. It was a quick, passing conversation. But rather than asking her what that looked like, I just encouraged her to keep having open communication with her husband—not realizing that wasn’t a possibility for her.

Another woman just lived with us a couple of months. She just separated from her husband after thirty-four years of quiet abuse. She told me that when she told a woman that her husband was both the most loving man she knew and the most hateful man that she knew, no one ever asked her, “What does that look like?”

Ladies, we have to learn how to be quick to hear and slow to speak. Let’s ask clarifying questions. Let’s seek to understand. Let’s actively listen before we start forming our little sermonette in our minds.

Are we slow to speak? Do we recognize our overwhelming need for wisdom? Do we ask God to richly supply it before we open our mouths?

And when we open our mouths, is it to share one wise truth that the Holy Spirit has laid on our hearts? Or is it to machine gun them with as many Bible verses as we can think of?

How we need to be Solomons, to have the humility to ask God for wisdom, to recognize that life is complicated, and people even more so, and we just don’t have all the answers . . . and that’s okay.

I have a mentor in New York. One of the things I appreciate about her is when she comes to my home, she often just listens. It’s after she goes home that I will often receive a text with a Scripture or some thoughts. She doesn’t feel that pressure to instantly respond on the spot.

So, we’ve talked about several ways that compassion can go awry as well as some practical ways that we can show compassion. But as we wrap up, I just want to talk about what our general disposition should be.

I recently heard a woman say, “I used to be a rescuer, but now I’m a stretcher bearer.”

I assume she’s referring to the story in Luke 5 where there was a paralyzed man. His friends brought him to Jesus, knowing that this man could never get to Jesus on his own, and knowing that Jesus was the only one who could help him.

Something that has surprised me as I’ve recently discovered what a problem I’ve had in trying to meet all the needs, as I’ve taken a step back, I actually began to pray more. It makes sense because I’m not trying to meet all the needs myself. And I suddenly realized, “Oh! There’s someone else who can meet those needs.”

And to be honest, I thought that what I was doing was obeying the first commandment, “Loving God with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength,” and then focusing on the second commandment, “Loving my neighbor as I love myself.” But what I learned just in the last week is that somehow I just bypassed that whole first commandment, and I jumped right to that second commandment.

I know from experience that that is not sustainable long term, to obey God’s command to love others with all my heart if I am not first sitting with my God and delighting Him, enjoying Him, loving Him.

I’m beginning to realize that all the needs that I see around me are actually an invitation for me to come into my Father’s presence and experience intimacy with Him as I bring those concerns to Him.

Second Corinthians 1:3 calls God, “the Father of compassion, and the God of all comfort.” This God of compassion so loved the world that He sent His Son to suffer with us. And not just to suffer with us, but to suffer for us. He alone has what it takes to meet all those overwhelming needs that you see around you.

And the question is: will you continue to save and rescue all those around you? Or will you become a “stretcher bearer” to bring people to Jesus—the only true great need meeter?

Oh God, thank You that You are the God of compassion, the Father of compassion, the God of all comfort. I confess that I have gotten things so mixed up that I have gone right to doing. Rather than helping others, I’ve just, in a lot of ways, screwed things up. I’ve hurt my family in the process, and put them in awkward positions. I’ve worn myself out. I have not done great and mighty healing works in the lives of the people around me.

Father, if there are other women like me, would You draw them back to Yourself as You’re doing to me? Would You, God, help us, teach us, what it looks like to love You with all of our hearts? So that we out of that overflow might be able to love those around us, that we might be able to show genuine compassion and not wearying compulsion.

Thank You, God, for walking this earth and seeing the crowds and feeling compassion, and not just feeling it, but doing something about it by rescuing our souls from sin.

We love You, and we ask that You would help us to love You more. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Nancy: We’ve been listening to a helpful message from Paula Hendricks Marsteller.

She made the point that compassion at the expense of truth isn’t compassion. Instead, she said, it’s compassion gone awry.

So, how about you? Has your compassion given way to a people-centered compulsion? What could you do to move toward godly serving, keeping others’ true best interests in mind?

Why don’t you take some time today to ask the Lord to show you how you can serve in ways that keep Him at the center?

Dannah: Thanks, Nancy.

It’s easy to become overwhelmed with the world’s sadness and suffering. Just as Paula said, to be more of a rescuer when we should be more like a “stretcher bearer.” True compassion is more than just an emotional response to someone else’s problems. It’s love put into action. And not just any love. It’s God’s unceasing, unfailing, unconditional love.

Erin Davis’ book, Uncommon Compassion, is a great resource to help you put into practice the compassion of God in a way that honors Him and reflects His love.

When you support this ministry with a donation of any amount, let us know you’d like to receive a copy of Erin’s book. Once you start putting it into practice, please share with us how God has used it in your life.

To make a donation, visit ReviveOurHearts.com, or call us at 1-800-569-5959.

These messages we’ve been listening to this week prompted a lot of thoughts and responses from women in our audience. They share those comments tomorrow on Revive Our Hearts. Please be back.

This program is a listener-supported production of Revive Our Hearts in Niles, Michigan, calling women to freedom, fullness, and fruitfulness in Christ.

All Scripture is taken from the ESV.

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