Does your heart break?
Transformative Compassion: A Call for Personal Investment in Systemic Change
One of my favorite songs from one of my favorite musical groups is “Does Your Heart Break” by The Brilliance.
The first two verses of the song go like this:
When the walls fell
And the hungry child
Cried out for help
Did you hear the sound?
Did your heart break?
Does your heart break now?
When the man said
"You are choking me,"
And he cried out
"I cannot breathe,"
Did Your heart break?
Does Your heart break now?
For Whom Your Heart Breaks
Though I can’t be sure what initially inspired the song (surely they were influenced by Eric Garner’s killing), my mind goes to Matthew 9:36, where Jesus sees the crowds of people, lost and without a shepherd, and has compassion on them. My NT Greek is a little rusty, but the word for “compassion” quite literally means his inwards parts, the heart, lungs, liver, and kidneys, were moved. To give it modern language, we might say his heart broke for the people.
I was listening to a Carey Nieuwhof podcast recently where the guest, Daryl Cripe, encouraged pastors and church leaders to have one person for whom their heart broke. Cripe framed it this way; if we had one person we desperately wanted to come to know Jesus, they would become a priority. Not in a coercive, oppressive way where we are trying to force Jesus on someone, but rather someone we care about, pray about, and are willing to invest our time in order to be in relationship with them that they might come to know Jesus.
It’s not about “conversion.”
I understand what many Progressives will say, that such relationship is duplicitous and has ulterior motives. Perhaps. But, I think this is where Cripe’s point about transformation ultimately being an act of God, not of humanity, is where concerns about coercion dissipate. For one, I think most people are smart enough to know when someone is spending time with us just because they want to sell us something. Anyone who’s been to a used car lot or business networking meeting knows what that is like. Second, from a Family Systems perspective, people should be able to be differentiated enough to not agree on all matters (even matters of faith) and still be able to be friends. And third, if you really care about someone—not simply their “eternal destiny”—you’re going to be there for them through thick and then when they really need it, rather than simply trying to shove Jesus down their face (I’m reminded here of a substack by
about how trying to “convert” someone is a manifestation of our own anxiety).Even still, let’s think about the context of that song by The Brilliance; the hungry child, the man who says he cannot breath. Does your heart break for them? God, I hope so. Yet to see systemic change come to the point where there will be no more hungry children and no more police officers choking, shooting, beating, etc., etc., etc. black men in the streets, we need to break for their hearts too—that their hearts will change.
Love and Logic; how about just love?
We live in this cultural context where we think we can yell and scream and logic another person into change (even I do it sometimes). It doesn’t work, it almost never works. About the only way change happens is through relationship. And that’s going to take some intentionally getting to know the people we believe need to change (the police officer, the CEO, the anti-immigrant). It’s going to take helping them see—not through coercion or logic or argument—that they really need Jesus in their lives.
For the past year or so (not every time, but often), when I see a police officer, I say a prayer. I pray for their safety in the line of duty, and I pray for wisdom and prudence as they do their job, especially around people of color. I understand that policing in our country needs to change. I understand that there are many officers who allow bias and prejudice (even if implicitly) to affect their policing (often with deadly consequences for back men). This must change. These people must change. These systems much change.
A Prayerful Approach to Police Officers
Maybe I am wrong on this, but I think this kind of change will take nothing short of what we call a miracle, an act of God—God moving in the hearts and lives of people in positions of power to be transformed into the way of Jesus. This isn’t to say we look the other way or shrug our shoulders or simply say we’re just waiting on God—no, I believe we’ve got do our part. But I am wondering if part of that part needs to be that as our hearts break for the victims of police violence and wrongdoing, our hearts also break for the broken human beings (police) who may be perpetuating that violence.
And, if our hearts break for them too, how might that change how we interact with them, especially in Progressive and Mainline contexts? What if we invited police officers to our churches, not in a gross “blue lives matter” garbage way, but basically said we’re going to pray for you. We understand you are people, mothers and fathers, parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles. We understand you put your lives on the line every day. We know what danger and pressures you face in the line of duty. We know that with great power comes great responsibility. And we pray to God that you might have wisdom and vigilance and protection, especially when it comes to the most vulnerable in our city—black men, people of color, the poor.
Its a “both/and”
This is not to say that our hearts stop breaking for that man (and the men who continue to say) “you are choking me” (or are in danger of saying that). This past summer, an African-American woman was sitting in my office and her teenage grandson was with her. In the midst of our conversation, I felt compelled to pray for this young man, to pray for his safety, to pray that he might make good decisions, and to pray for his well-being. For those unfamiliar, I work in the city of Aurora, where another young man, Elijah McClain, was tragically killed after an encounter with police. Our hearts must break for each of these, the young black men in danger—and the police officers who at risk of being perpetrators of violence toward these same young men.
Who can we pray for, together?
Finally, in this podcast, Cripe emphasizes the importance of having one person for whom your heart breaks—not that we can’t care about more than one person—he admits he has five people, but rather so we might take the responsibility upon ourselves and personally seek to invest and impact a real life person. Obviously, for some of us, this might require to extend our social circles or move out of our usual rhythms. And I certainly want to add, at some point our own personal safety matters here too. I wouldn’t ask an LGBT+ person to go invest in a person from Westboro Baptist. This is where those of us with some privilege, people like myself, are going to have to go out of our way. Dare I say, as Cripe suggests, pray that God might bring people into our lives.
So, I’m going to invite you to consider whether there is someone in your life for whom your heart breaks? Someone you believe desperately needs to be transformed by the way of Jesus. And, if you don’t have someone, pray with me as I pray for myself, that I might have more people for whom my heart breaks.