Rethinking Self-Compassion
When Instagram tells me I should be practicing self-compassion, I feel unsettled. When a woman I’m counseling fills in the blank of my prayer prompt, “God help me…" with “Give myself grace,” I pause. Why? For one, in the moments I presumably need it the most, I can’t muster it. How can I give myself grace when there’s no grace in me to give? And second, when I try to find self-compassion in the Bible, it remains elusive.
And so, I want to trace compassion through the pages of Scripture and understand how we are to respond when we are suffering and tempted to be too exacting of ourselves or when guilt lingers even though we know we are forgiven.
Compassion in Scripture starts with God. How does he treat the downtrodden? How does he respond to the suffering…those who suffer at the hands of others and those who suffer because of their own sin?
The first thing we see is that compassion/graciousness/mercy are attributes of God. He doesn’t have to put on compassion or work it up through willpower. In ways unique to the Godhead, He is compassion, mercy, and grace. He tells Moses on Mount Sinai (during the second visit, after Moses has broken the tablets in dismay over Israel’s rebellion in making the golden calf during his first trip) that he is,
“The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness,” Exodus 34:6
David proclaims,
“The Lord is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made.” Psalm 145:9
And Matthew describes this attribute on display in Jesus: “When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” Matthew 9:36
Compassion starts with God. It is who he is and what he does.
The second thing we notice is that the pinnacle expression of God’s compassion is demonstrated in the sacrificial death of Christ on the cross.
“For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” 2 Corinthians 5:21
“He has rescued us from the domain of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of the Son he loves.” Colossians 1:13
“He saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy.” Titus 3:5
In 1 Peter 1:3, Peter explicitly connects God’s call to believers made possible by the resurrection as stemming from this same attribute.
“According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.”
So far we observe compassion originating in the personhood of God and extended to us fully in Christ. If we continue, we see that the reality of God’s compassion for us creates a call in us to respond to other fellow sinner-sufferers in like kind. All believers in Jesus are the servant with the unpayable debt who are met with mercy and compassion, and of whom mercy and compassion towards our fellow debt-owing servants is required. (Matthew 18:21-35). Throughout the New Testament, the refrain is the same.
“Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” Luke 6:36
“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.” Colossians 3:12
Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as Christ God forgave you. Ephesians 4:32
Now, to be clear, being merciful to fellow sinners, being patient and gentle, and forgiving those who have wronged us are not always easy commands to obey. But because they are commands, rooted in the character and power of God, there’s hope for us as Spirit-indwelled believers to grow in obedience to them. Is the impulse towards self-compassion categorically the same? Is it implied in other commands or a logical extension of how the theme of compassion is developed in the Bible? It is not ever commanded directly, which is noteworthy because the vibe I get sometimes from influencers and experts in mental health is more akin to “How DARE you not have self-compassion?!”
As a believer in Jesus, a believer in his inerrant, efficacious Word, and as a biblical counselor to women, often in the hardest places in their lives, I ask myself, when presented with the invitation to have mercy on myself…Is this scriptural? Because to be frank, if it’s not, I don’t have time for it. On one hand, I know I’ve sinned, and I know I’ve suffered. Honestly, I know sometimes I’m hurting really deeply. That impacts my relationships and my growth in holiness. Is the answer "Give yourself grace"? Because if it is, I’m in trouble. The weight of regret leaves no room for so-called self-compassion, for this grace I’m supposed to be able to somehow find amongst the bad memories and lingering heartbreak. Can I just echo Paul, “What a wretched man I am!” (Romans 7:24).
Yes, I think I can. And therein lies the answer. I don’t need self-compassion. I need rescue! I don’t need to give myself grace. I’m dead in the water on those counts. But Paul keeps going, and he’s pointing me in the right direction: “Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”
So when I am in despair because I see myself and don’t see in myself any ounce of grace to comfort myself…I do have Jesus Christ my Lord. I have his rescue, his mercy, his compassion, his grace. It is a fair (and perhaps too uncommon) question, “But how do I avail myself of that compassion? What do I do when I feel overwhelmed in real misery?” When I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders and I’m crumbling, if the answer is not some variety of "Go easy on yourself,” what is it?
The pattern I see in Scripture is RECEIVE the grace and mercy and compassion of Jesus. This is not auto-generative…but there is something…often many things for me to do on route to this receiving.
Hebrews is one place I see this fleshed out…
“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.” Hebrews 4:15-16
Who gets me? Who knows my story? Who knows how hard it is still? Who understands? And who sticks around once they do? Who can make it better? Jesus does, and Jesus can. So I…
1) Draw near
2) Receive mercy
3) Find grace that helps in time of need
Again, how?
I do that in prayer. I do that with a posture that looks upward and not inward. Me with uplifted open hands saying, “Mercy,” not me shuffling around in the dark corners of my heart trying to find the elusive self-compassion.
I come to the throne by going to his Word, searching for the commands, principles, and promises that touch the points of my own weakness and grief. I receive mercy by gathering with his people, celebrating the Lord’s Table, worshipping at that throne of grace.
In all of these ways, I look for grace that helps until I find it. The psalmist captures the spirit of what I am talking about: “May your compassion come to me so that I may live, for your instruction is my delight." (Psalm 119:77)
Ultimately, our goal is to see ourselves as the Lord sees us. He cares about us when we are hurting. He is near to us in our brokenheartedness. (Psalm 34:18) He forgives us and does not treat us as our sins deserve. (Psalm 103: 3, 10) When we are overwhelmed, he helps us discern and apply, in our own particular set of circumstances, what “one thing is needed” (Luke 10:42). It might be confession or assurance of forgiveness. It might be rest, or better nutrition, or saying no to something that someone else can do. It might mean a long walk alone or a slow morning with a friend. It might mean time away from social media and more time memorizing Scripture. It might mean sitting down with a counselor or a pastor or a seasoned saint to figure some of it out. It can mean so many things, all done in dependence on the grace and mercy received from a compassionate, loving Savior. I can’t do it on my own. But I can receive it from the throne of grace, and with Jesus’ help, I want to keep on getting better at doing that, free from the impossible burden of self-compassion.