Matthew 9:36 But when He saw the multitudes, He was moved with compassion for them, because they were weary and scattered, like sheep having no shepherd.
With God nothing is impossible…nothing! Jesus, the embodiment of God, had compassion on all the sons of mankind. God loves all of His creation and no one is beyond His gift of salvation. He knows that we are mere humans. John 3:16 Micah 6:8 He cares for us. Carla
Matthew 15:29-32 Jesus departed from there, skirted the Sea of Galilee, and went up on the mountain and sat down there. 30 Then great multitudes came to Him, having with them the lame, blind, mute, maimed, and many others; and they laid them down at Jesus’ feet, and He healed them. 31 So the multitude marveled when they saw the mute speaking, the maimed made whole, the lame walking, and the blind seeing; and they glorified the God of Israel.
32 Now Jesus called His disciples to Himself and said, “I have compassion on the multitude, because they have now continued with Me three days and have nothing to eat. And I do not want to send them away hungry, lest they faint on the way.”
The scene changes from the region of Tyre and Sidon to a mountain near the Sea of Galilee but still in Gentile territory. Mark 7:31 identifies this region as the Decapolis. The Gentiles believed and glorified Israel’s God, while many in Israel remained blind to their Messiah. This is not the same miracle recorded in 14:14–21. Jesus Himself identified two distinct feedings of multitudes (16:9, 10). The NKJV Study Bible.
Jesus leaves Tyre and Sidon and returns to Galilee. The summary statement of His healing ministry (verse 30) is reminiscent of 4:23–25; 9:35–36; 14:34–35. Wherever Jesus went, He brought physical and spiritual restoration. Matthew does not provide a location, but the parallel account in Mark 8:1–10 appears to be set in the Decapolis, a Gentile (non-Jewish) region (Mark 7:31). Faithlife Study Bible
Matthew 9:8
Now when the multitudes saw it, they marveled and glorified God, who had given such power to men.
Mark 7:31–8:10
Again, departing from the region of Tyre and Sidon, He came through the midst of the region of Decapolis to the Sea of Galilee. Then they brought to Him one who was deaf and had an impediment in his speech, and they begged Him to put His hand on him…
Matthew 14:13–21
When Jesus heard it, He departed from there by boat to a deserted place by Himself. But when the multitudes heard it, they followed Him on foot from the cities. And when Jesus went out He saw a great multitude; and He was moved with compassion for them, and healed their sick…
One year, during Passover, Rabbi Ted Falcon reminded me that Jewish tradition translates Mitzrayim, Hebrew for Egypt, as mi tzarim, "from out of the tight places." Yes. We all meet tight places in our lives, where we find ourselves stuck. But the deeper kind of enslavement is stuckness in an “untruthful” ego identity—you know, trying to be someone we are not.
Here’s my confession. I’ve been on a journey to find my way home. Many can relate. And our reasons for being lost vary; fear from uncertainty, life turns left, the shine of public opinion beckons, when a need for approval (or fear of disapproval) rules the roost.
So. I know it’s not Passover, but how do we live out this Passover invitation to "pass over" this identity limitation (our captivity to a limiting self), and embrace the vastly greater wisdom, love, and compassion that is at our very core?
This is not easy, because I tend to see only what is “broken”. And in our world, brokenness never presents well.
A man loses his keys and is on hands and knees searching.
A passerby stops. “I’ll help you,” he says, “Where’d you lose them?”
“Over there,” the man points.
“But why are you looking over here?” the passerby asks. “The light is better over here,” he says.
I am no longer afraid to be broken, and humble, because I know that I am a child of God, imbued with dignity.
It is in these broken places that joy and gratitude and commitment and loving kindness and gentleness and courage come alive.
No longer self-absorbed or afraid, I give way to being “awake”—to a radical openness, curiosity and reverence. “Sabbath Moments”
He will come like last leaf’s fall.
One night when the November wind
has flayed the trees to the bone, and earth
wakes choking on the mould,
the soft shroud’s folding.
He will come like frost.
One morning when the shrinking earth
opens on mist, to find itself
arrested in the net
of alien, sword-set beauty.
He will come like dark.
One evening when the bursting red
December sun draws up the sheet
and penny-masks its eye to yield
the star-snowed fields of sky.
He will come, will come,
will come like crying in the night,
like blood, like breaking,
as the earth writhes to toss him free.
He will come like child.
Rowan Williams
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