Compassion

Compassion

by Tom Woodard

When do we learn compassion? I really don't know when I learned it, but I will never forget the time I first recall exercising it. I was in the second grade at Reform (Alabama) Elementary School, in the late Summer or early Fall of 1956, in Mrs. Laurie Rainer's class (she being, by the way, my first true love - a story for another day). Even at that age everyone wants to fit in, I suppose. I know, as shy and uncertain of myself as I was, that I did!

Well, in my class we had what people call a bully, although at that time I didn't know what the word meant. He was the "tough guy" and one day at recess (there was no organized PE in elementary school in those days - just recess), not long after the school year started, all the boys in the class were running round and round the school building behind him. He was our hero and leader and, all wanting to belong, we all ran behind him like a herd of mindless cattle.

There was one boy in our class, however, who could not run, could not keep up with the crowd. He had been a polio victim, and he was therefore crippled. He could walk, but only with a pronounced limp, and with heavy iron braces on his legs. As we rounded the school house for about the third time, our "fearless leader" spied this boy and, showing just how tough he was, picked up one of those old olive green steel trash cans (surplus from World War II, I imagine) which were a fixture in every classroom back then, and which just happened to be outside, in both hands, and hit the crippled boy over the head with it so hard that it put a large dent in the side of that trash can, knocking the boy to the ground.

Our bully then ran off again, for another romp around the school, with all the other boys in the class right behind. I think I ran about two or three steps, but then something stopped me and I went back and helped the crippled boy up and stayed with him the remainder of recess. We thereafter became friends, and we remain friends to this day.

I didn't know it then, but that "something" that stopped me was compassion. I tell you this story only as a reminder to all of us to show compassion whenever the situation calls upon us to do so, and to ask the Lord to help us recognize the situations around us which call for it. And

let us remember that compassion doesn't require just words - it calls for action. Compassion without action is just pity, and no one wants to be pitied.

The crippled boy, as he grew older and stronger, evidenced less and less of a limp, so that today, if you didn't know him, you'd probably not notice it at all. He had wonderful parents, by the way, and he grew up to be a fine fellow. The bully, on the other hand, very soon became known for what he was, fell out of favor, and never amounted to much, if anything. I later came to realize that he was not brave at all, but a coward.

There's a lesson in this, too, and that is that we should be careful who we follow, if we follow anyone at all. One thing I do know is that if the one we follow is Jesus Christ, and if we follow Him in Spirit and in Truth, we

WILL evidence compassion in our lives! After all, He had enough compassion for us that He died for us, that we might have life and have it in abundance, both now and forever. Compassion requires action!

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