Are you embracing Christ's compassion in action?

John Baraza Namunyu encourages us to embody a Christlike love that listens to the weary.

In every corner of our world, pain wears many faces. It hides behind the tired eyes of a mother who skips meals so her children can eat. It lingers in the silent tears of a man sleeping rough on a cold pavement. It trembles in the fearful whisper of a young woman trapped in human trafficking. It aches in the heart of the migrant worker who feels unseen.

And yet, amid such distress, one truth still holds: Christ sees, Christ hears, Christ feels.

‘Art thou weary, art thou languid?’ This timeless hymn asks these questions of our generation, echoing through the hearts of those who can no longer carry the weight of the world’s injustice. And the answer from the compassionate Christ still resounds: ‘Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest’ (Matthew 11:28 King James Version).

Jesus’ compassion was never distant nor abstract. He knelt in the dust with the broken, touched the untouchable and sat at tables with those the world dismissed. His ministry was a living protest against indifference – a radical, redemptive love that refused to look away. That same compassion must now be the heartbeat of our mission as The Salvation Army, from the bustling city of London to shelters in Toronto.

To be a Salvationist is to stand where the world’s pain is loudest – and to stay there, with open hands and hearts ready to serve. The Salvation Army’s global mission reminds us that the gospel cannot be confined to a pulpit; it must walk through the alleys where addiction grips, into the safe houses where survivors rebuild, and beside the bedsides of those who have lost hope.

Compassion, in our context, is not mere sentiment – it is strategy. It is how we confront modern slavery with advocacy and rehabilitation, how we tackle homelessness with dignity and holistic care, how we challenge structural poverty with empowerment, education and faith-filled action.

In this shared journey, we find that the compassionate Christ not only comforts the weary but also calls us to become his compassion in motion. He bids us to carry his tenderness into systems that have grown cold, to extend his mercy where injustice has hardened hearts, and to shine his light where darkness still hides the suffering of the forgotten.

As Salvationists, our anthem must always echo that hymn’s quiet plea: ‘If I ask him to receive me,/ Will he say me nay?’ And the answer we must live out daily – through feeding the hungry, rescuing the oppressed, and restoring the broken – is unwavering: ‘Not till Earth and not till Heaven pass away.’

How might your daily ministry embody the compassion of Christ, not only in comforting the weary but in challenging the structures that cause their weariness?