My daughter and I were recently talking about how much we love Psalms that recount Israel’s history. The importance of remembrance is woven throughout Scripture, and last week I landed on one of those “recaps” in the book of Nehemiah.
What really grabbed my attention in Nehemiah 9 was the magnifying glass put on God’s compassion as His people collectively recounted their tainted history and God’s never-ending faithfulness.
Following decades of Babylonian exile due to their sin and rebellion, Israel returns in waves to the city of Jerusalem. Amidst much opposition, they rebuild the walls of the city, assemble to hear the Scriptures read aloud by Ezra, celebrate the Festival of Shelters, and gather for a time of confession and remembrance.
Their spiritual famine led to this feast.
People sometimes target God as a harsh judge, but I struggle to see that. I’ve read through the Bible in its entirety multiple times in the last several years, and His compassion and care are so loud.
Are His judgments just? Yes, perfectly just, and in His discipline, He reflects His faithful and compassionate character. But harsh or cruel? No. He’s always for His people, always acting according to His good purposes and for His glory. God’s compassion is a major theme I see in the Old Testament and embodied in Jesus in the New Testament.
Look at these highlights in Nehemiah 9. (I’m summarizing some portions).
Nehemiah 9:16-17 God’s people were arrogant and wouldn’t listen. “…But you are a forgiving God, gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in faithful love, and you did not abandon them…” God responds to His people’s sin with compassion
Nehemiah 9:18-19 God’s people attribute the golden calf with their Egyptian deliverance, but they acknowledge, “you did not abandon them in the wilderness because of your great compassion. During the day the pillar of cloud never turned away from them, guiding them on their journey…” Because of God’s great compassion, He does not abandon. He faithfully guides.
Nehemiah 9:25-27 God’s people become complacent, disobedient, and rebellious, face the consequences, cry out to Him, “and you heard from heaven. In your abundant compassion you gave them deliverers who rescued them from the power of their enemies.” God’s compassion is abundant and brings deliverance.
Nehemiah 9:28 They had relief, but again did evil, faced consequences again, but “you heard from heaven and rescued them many times in your compassion…” God’s compassion hears and rescues.
Nehemiah 9:31 In His abundant compassion, He did not destroy or abandon His people, “for you are a gracious and compassionate God.” Compassion is in God’s very nature.
Five times His compassion is highlighted in this chapter. It’s part of His character, He has it in abundance, and because of it, He heard their cries, sent deliverance, and would not abandon His people.
I dug a little deeper into the Hebrew word used for compassion in these verses and learned that it comes from a word family related to the word for “womb.” It carries a deep, protective affection, evoking the imagery of a mother’s instinctive tenderness towards her children. (I’m not a Hebrew scholar!! Credit to online sources here!)
Do you think of God in this way? Have you considered the implications of this for you and for those around you? His compassion is a tender invitation to draw near. Always ready, always welcoming, He never runs low on compassion! It makes me think of this imagery in Psalm 91:4: He will cover you with his feathers; you will take refuge under his wings. His faithfulness will be a protective shield.
Additionally, do we look at others with that same lens– as never beyond the reach of God’s compassion to tenderly draw them under the shelter of His wings? Do we extend that invitation to others in word and in deed?
We can take such warnings and such comfort learning from Israel’s past. I’m following up this post in a few days (or weeks, depending on time!) with thoughts on the embodied compassion we see in Christ, especially some observations from the parables in Luke 15, but in the meantime, I hope you feel this warm invitation the compassionate Father is always calling us to.
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