Tag: Jesus’ compassion

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When Religion Gets In The Way of Redemption

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 13:10-17. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on January 25, 2026.

Amen. Last week I mentioned serving as a missionary in Japan and watching all those videos of mom-and-pop eateries. Often you see elderly obāsans with a pronounced forward curve—a dowager’s hump—age-related, painful, limiting. That image came to mind in our passage.

“Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. And behold, there was a woman who had a disabling spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not fully straighten herself… ‘Woman, you are freed from your disability.’ And he laid his hands on her, and immediately she was made straight, and she glorified God” (Luke 13:10–13, ESV).

Luke—the physician—notes both a physical and a spiritual dimension: a “disabling spirit.” Not necessarily elderly, not merely slow, age-related change; crippling, painful, socially stigmatizing. In that world, visible deformity could be read as curse or consequence. Faces turn away. Doors close.

Scripture reminds us not to flatten reality to the merely material—or to sensationalize the spiritual. “We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against… the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12, ESV). C. S. Lewis warned of two equal and opposite errors: to disbelieve devils entirely, or to cultivate an excessive and unhealthy interest in them. Here, Luke simply shows both dimensions were in play—and Jesus is Lord over them all.

Notice Jesus’ tenderness. He sees her, calls her, speaks freedom, touches her: “Woman, you are freed from your disability.” Immediately she is made straight and glorifies God. Psalm 103 gives us language: “Bless the LORD, O my soul… who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit” (Psalm 103:1–4, ESV).

Not everyone rejoices. “The ruler of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, said to the people, ‘There are six days in which work ought to be done; come on those days and be healed, and not on the Sabbath’” (Luke 13:14, ESV). Jesus answers by turning their own Sabbath casuistry on its head: “Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger and lead it away to water it? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham, whom Satan bound for eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on the Sabbath day?” (Luke 13:15–16, ESV).

They would untie an animal; Jesus looses a woman. Same idea, different object. Their rules could show pity to livestock; their hearts refused mercy to a daughter of Abraham. That’s the hypocrisy Jesus unmasks.

Rules and rhythms matter. Obedience is not a dirty word. “He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world. And by this we know that we have come to know him, if we keep his commandments. Whoever says ‘I know him’ but does not keep his commandments is a liar… whoever says he abides in him ought to walk in the same way in which he walked” (1 John 2:2–6, ESV). The danger comes when religion—our habits, guardrails, traditions—becomes a substitute for redemption, when hedges around the law eclipse the heart of the Lawgiver.

Jesus names the “weightier matters”: “justice and mercy and faithfulness. These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others” (Matthew 23:23, ESV). James calls this “religion that is pure and undefiled before God”: “to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world” (James 1:27, ESV). In other words, yes—keep the Sabbath holy; and yes—let the Sabbath be a day when the bound are loosed, the bent stand straight, and the forgotten are seen.

Luke concludes: “As he said these things, all his adversaries were put to shame, and all the people rejoiced at all the glorious things that were done by him” (Luke 13:17, ESV). That’s the order we want: shame for hypocrisy, joy for mercy, glory to God. May our practices never muzzle compassion. May our boundaries never bar redemption. Bless the Lord, O my soul.

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The Widow’s Son

Summary of my sermon, based on Luke 7:11-16. Preached at Greenhills Christian Fellowship Toronto on June 16, 2024.

In our journey through the Gospel of Luke, we’ve been exploring a series of messages that reveal the heart of Jesus and the principles of His Kingdom. These teachings, often referred to as the “Upside-Down Kingdom,” challenge the world’s expectations, flipping conventional wisdom on its head. Jesus’ sermon on the plain, which echoes the more famous Sermon on the Mount, is filled with teachings that call us to live in ways that seem contrary to our natural inclinations—blessing the poor, loving our enemies, and turning the other cheek.

This theme of an upside-down Kingdom is not just limited to His teachings but is also vividly demonstrated in His interactions with those who were often considered outsiders. One such instance occurs in Luke 7:1-10, where Jesus encounters a Roman centurion seeking healing for his servant. The centurion, a representative of the very empire oppressing the Jews, demonstrates a faith that amazes even Jesus. This story sets the stage for the next encounter, which takes place in a small, insignificant village called Nain.

The Village of Nain: A Scene of Sorrow

In Luke 7:11-12, we find Jesus entering Nain, a small village about 10 kilometers southeast of Nazareth. This village was so small that it likely had only a few hundred inhabitants. Jesus, perhaps just passing through, encounters a funeral procession at the town gate. The scene is one of profound sorrow: a widow is burying her only son. The text emphasizes her plight, saying, “As he drew near to the gate of the town, behold, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow, and a considerable crowd from the town was with her” (Luke 7:12, ESV).

This verse is often considered one of the most tragic in the Bible. The loss of a child is a sorrow that few can comprehend, and for this widow, the pain is compounded by the fact that she has already buried her husband. In the ancient world, a woman without a husband or son would face economic destitution, relying entirely on male relatives for her livelihood. This widow, now bereft of both her husband and her only son, faces an uncertain and bleak future.

The Compassion of Jesus

As the funeral procession moves forward, Jesus sees the widow and is moved with compassion. Luke 7:13-15 records, “And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her and said to her, ‘Do not weep.’ Then he came up and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And he said, ‘Young man, I say to you, arise.’ And the dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother” (ESV).

What is striking about this passage is how focused Jesus is on the widow. Despite the considerable crowd and the commotion of the funeral, Jesus zeroes in on her suffering. He doesn’t just observe; He acts. His compassion moves Him to intervene in a way that changes everything for this woman. In the grand scheme of Jesus’ mission, one might wonder what difference this miracle made. But this is precisely the point—Jesus’ ministry is not just about grand, world-changing events; it’s also about the individual, the marginalized, and the forgotten.

Jesus’ actions in Nain remind us that He is deeply compassionate, entering into our grief and suffering. This compassion is not just a response to the widow’s sorrow but a reflection of the Father’s heart. Jesus makes it clear that His actions are a direct expression of the Father’s will, saying in John 14:9-10, “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?” (ESV).

Our Confidence in Christ’s Compassion

The compassion of Christ is a source of immense comfort for us. He understands our pain, and because of this, we can approach Him with confidence, knowing that He will meet us in our time of need. Hebrews 4:15-16 encourages us with these words: “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (ESV).

This assurance is beautifully captured in Matthew 11:28-29, where Jesus invites us, saying, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (ESV).

As we reflect on the compassion of Christ, especially on a day like Father’s Day, we are reminded that this compassion is a reflection of the Father’s love for us. Psalm 103:13-14 declares, “As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust” (ESV).

May we, in turn, be moved by this same compassion in our own lives, reaching out to those who are hurting, just as Jesus did.