Who put this beautiful word to death? Was she poisoned with the soft drink of selfishness? Or was she strangled by the clutching grasp of materialism? Was she smothered by a heavy blanket of indifference? In what coffin did they lay her? Is there a thread of hope she might be revived? In answering these questions I condemn myself. I had a part in her death. You also had a part. We were her pallbearers. But the cas ket is not yet closed and there is hope. We must pray that "the love of Christ" which flows silently and smoothly like liquid mercury might fill our empty hearts with compas
sion and concern. We want God's compassion for needy men. We desire the great Shepherd's compassion for lost sheep. We desperately need a com passion that weeps. A healing com passion. A helping compassion. A working compassion that spells CONCERN with capital letters. "If a brother or sister is without clothing and in need of daily food, and one of you says to them, 'Go in peace, be warmed and be filled'; and yet you do not give them what is necessary for their body; what use is that? Even so faith, if it has no works, is dead, being by itself" (James 2:15-17, N.A.S.B.).
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