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THE GOD WHO CRIES AT FUNERALS #5

THE COMPASSION OF KEVORKIAN

His name was Thomas Youk, and he was just 52 years old. But he was about to die; in fact, he DID die . . . on camera, as the CBS news magazine 60 Minutes recorded his last moments for a nationwide viewing audience hosted by Mike Wallace. The death was the work, of course, of one Dr. Jack Kevorkian. Called by some an angel of mercy, and described by others as Dr. Death.

More than a hundred people have now died with his help, either by carbon monoxide gas or by intravenous poisoning, using his traveling machine, the "Mercitron." A recent Reader's Digest article by John Corry describes the 72-year-old Kevorkian as being eager to establish himself as the "Domino's of death," able to deliver his service "like a pizza."

Well, friend, there's a lot of loaded politics in the case history of Dr. Kevorkian, and that's really not our purpose this week. Does this man have true compassion for the elderly, for the terminally ill? Does he suffer WITH them, as our earlier study of the word compassion indicated. Or has he always just been fascinated with death itself, as evidenced by his long history of wanting to experiment on consenting death-row inmates, of his stalking hospital corridors, looking for patients who were near the end of their lives? Is that the extent of his caring?

In contrast to that question, let's stay with our series concept: THE GOD WHO CRIES AT FUNERALS. We've been blessed to discover that Jesus was a Man who cried real tears. Jesus truly did — AND DOES — understand our pain and our sorrow. He has compassion for us regarding our battles with sin and temptation, because He went through the same. He understands loneliness.

In the wonderful book, The Jesus I Never Knew, Philip Yancey discusses the ability of God to reach down and relate to us. He tells two agonizing stories of betrayal and hurt: one involving a blind man whose wife had an affair with a friend right in their own home. A youth pastor lost his wife and baby daughter to AIDS. So where was God? Did God understand? Here's what Yancey writes:

"‘Does God care?' I know of only one way to answer that question, and it has come through my study of the life of JESUS. In Jesus, God gave us a face, and I can read directly in that face how God feels about people like the youth pastor and the blind man who never gave me his name. By no means did Jesus eliminate all suffering — He healed only a few in one small patch of the globe — but He did signify an answer to the question of whether God cares."

In the culture of Jesus, there in Palestine and Jerusalem, it was commonly understood that if you were sick, God was punishing you. You must have done something wrong. Or maybe your mom or dad had done something wrong. For sure, if you were hurting, it was because heaven hated you for some good reason. And Yancey examines the response of Jesus, the compassionate help of the Savior, and then makes this point:

"Jesus wanted the sick to know they are especially LOVED, not cursed, by God. Every one of His miracles of healing, in fact, undercut the rabbinic tradition of ‘You deserved it.'"

In the book of Mark, we find a picture of Jesus' sympathy for people. In chapter six, verse 31, we find that Christ and His disciples simply HAD to get away for some quiet time, for some desperately needed R & R.

"Let's go find an isolated spot in the wilderness," He said to His followers, "where we can be alone to talk and get some rest." The King James says: "Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while."

However, just three verses later, we find that all the people, the crowds, were so eager for help and for healing and for teaching, that they hiked along the lake to meet Him. And here in verse 34 is a beautiful picture of Jesus:

"When Jesus saw all these people and realized how far they had walked to find Him, He had COMPASSION on them. They seemed to have as little direction as sheep without a shepherd. So He started to teach them many things."

In the book of Matthew, we get this additional insight:

"Whenever He saw a group of people, His heart was moved with compassion because they seemed so helpless and misled, as sheep without a shepherd."

Our writer/producer, David Smith, tells a story on his dad, Ken Smith, who, clear back in 1957, was entertaining a call to be a missionary way up in Northern Thailand, 500 miles north of Bangkok. David was just two years old at the time, so he learned about this many years later. But as Ken and Jean, who had three very small boys, were considering whether or not they should go, a plaintive letter came from the Christian volunteer who was trying to hold the mission work together in the town of Chiang Mai. And the letter basically went like this: "Please come. Pastor Smith, please do come." And then this heart-stopping line: "Out here we are like sheep without a shepherd." The letter was probably in broken English, but the Thai word for "sheep" is something like this: Gh . And this earnest letter said to the young American minister: "We are just gha — we're lost, lonely lambs. The gospel is so new to us; we need someone to lead us." And Ken Smith, who lived in the comfort of California with a pretty wife and a college diploma on the walls of his study, got on a merchant ship, the Steel Admiral, and sailed to Thailand, a dirty, exhausting, six-week journey . . . because he had compassion, and wanted to be a shepherd to these lambs.

Well, that's the tiniest picture, a human replication, of what Jesus feels for us every single day. In our lostness, Jesus has compassion. He feels FOR us and WITH us. In fact, it's very moving to me to notice there in the book of Mark, where Jesus had compassion on the multitude, that just a few verses later, He also notices: "These people are hungry. They haven't eaten all day. We've got to feed them." His sympathy even extended to their growling stomachs, their need for a bit of supper. And He miraculously provided 5,000 instant meals.

Well, friend, we've spent a few days here looking at this incredible God who knows how to cry. And I hope that you come away with this one understanding: no matter WHO you are, no matter WHERE you are, no matter what you've been through, you have a Friend named Jesus who understands. That's not just a sermon; it's not a rhyme. It's not a poem. Back in the days of slavery, when people in chains felt persecuted, they would sing an old song that went like this: Nobody knows the trouble I seen. Nobody knows but JESUS. Was that just a good song? Or was it the gritty, tangible truth? Had Jesus ever felt the sting of the lash? You know He did. Read Matthew 27:31. Did Jesus ever get called names, have people make fun of Him? Go back to verse 29. He was born without a legitimate human father — and believe me, somebody pointed that out to Him every single day of His life.

Do you ever feel unappreciated? Just imagine what Jesus went through in that arena.

In that same book, The Jesus I Never Knew, Yancey reminds us how we sometimes cry out at an unforgiving universe: "I didn't choose to be born!" Which is true. And then he adds this observation:

"Alone of all people in history, He [Jesus] had the privilege of CHOOSING where and when to be born."

And we say: "Lucky Him! I didn't get to pick and choose; fate thrust me into this mess, but Jesus got to pick His place and time." Ah, but friend, notice how Jesus deliberately and willfully placed Himself right into the very spot in history where He would be subjected to all the pain we feel. Born into poverty, into dirt, into a manger. Born into humanness and temptation. Born into a pagan empire, into a world where stonings and crucifixions were the common fixes for what He was going to offer. Does Jesus understand? Listen — He purposefully put Himself where He would have no choice BUT to understand.

Back to our original line about Dr. Jack Kevorkian. Because in this book where Yancey thinks about the ways that Jesus understands our hurts, the ways that He cries with us and sheds tears of true COMPASSION, he closes with this:

"As a doctor who works in hospice told me, ‘When my patients pray, they are talking to someone who has actually died — something that's not true of any other adviser, counselor, or death expert."
Kevorkian for years has put on his business cards: "Jack Kevorkian, M.D. Bioethics and OBITIATRY. Special death counseling. By appointment only." He's a self-proclaimed expert in "obitiatry," the doctoring of death, according to this article by John Corry. He's an expert in death . . . and in a way, he IS. He's done a lot of research, much of it morbid. But friend, how expert is he really? Has he ever DIED? Has he experienced death? What's more to the point, has he conquered it like Jesus has? Jesus went to the cross, which, believe me, was no Mercitron potassium chloride joy ride. And He came through in victory on the other side.

If you want someone who really understands, then, I recommend Jesus. If you're afraid of dying, I recommend Jesus. If you want a Friend with real eyes that shed real tears, and a real heart to love, and real arms to embrace, I have a Friend to recommend. I know His name, and I know His address. He's waiting for your call.