Love That Is Sympathetic

This morning we’re going to be learning not just about God Himself leading His people, but we’re going to learn of the responsibility that you and I have toward the suffering—not simply as a matter of duty, but as a matter of logical conclusion. Since Christ sympathizes with His suffering people, we must love and we must serve what He loves and serves.

Hebrews 13—let’s read from verse 1. “Let brotherly love continue. Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them; and them which suffer adversity, as being yourselves also in the body. Marriage is honorable in all, and the bed undefiled; but whoremongers and adulterers God will judge. Let your conversation be without covetousness. Be content with such things as ye have; for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. So that we may boldly say, the Lord is my helper. And I will not fear what man shall do unto me.” Amen.

Ending the reading again at the sixth verse, let’s pray once more. And as we pray, I encourage you to intercede for yourself and for others, that God would meet with us here around His Word.

Lord, be with us today. We are mindful that the sorrows of Thy people are many. There are some who are mourning today, and we remember them and pray that Thy grace would be sufficient, and Thou wouldst uphold our sister Faith, and others who sorrow for similar reasons. Though the passing of a loved one may be some time ago, yet the emotions, the reality, is still very present. I pray that Thou wilt always counsel us through our sorrows. Counsel this people so that they are strong. I pray not, Lord, that Thou wilt take away every sorrow from us, but that Thou wilt give us grace in the sorrows; for Thou hast things to teach us that we can only learn through our sorrows. May we be good students in such times.

So this morning again, take Thy Word and help us to see our place, to minister, and Thy willingness and desire for us to be an instrument in Thy hand to Thy suffering people. Do remember those who suffer today. Do remember the imprisoned church and those saints that suffer, and those saints who have looked on as their loved one has been martyred. Be merciful. Hear prayer then, and Holy Spirit be in our midst. We pray for Christ’s sake. Amen.

We all understand, I would guess, that God has a purpose for the believer in their suffering. You’ve heard that for years: God has a purpose for the believer in their suffering. But I wonder—have you ever wondered if God is not just testing them in their suffering, but also testing you? That the suffering believer themselves is not only being tried, but those around them, those near to them—that our faith also is being tested in relation to our response to the suffering saint.

The book of Hebrews was written to believers. I’ve said it many times. They’ve gone through their trials. They’re presently in this pressure to give up their faith in Jesus as the Christ. The arguments have been made. The apostle has brought to bear upon the mind argument from Scripture over and over and over again, and he sought to press them into the natural conclusion: how could you ever leave Jesus as the Christ? He is the Christ of God, so we must continue on trusting in Him. But that may be true. Some may come to that conclusion and continue on privately, faithful to Christ, in a fashion, trying to tell themselves that I can be faithful to Christ in private.

But the apostle’s looking for more. As he brings the application to bear in the closing part of the epistle, he reminds them of their responsibilities. Now, it’s brought up—I mentioned it a number of times already in chapter 10—of these believers that “took joyfully the spoiling of their goods.” They had stood; they had suffered with those who were already at the hands of their enemies’ suffering. They had been pleased to “endure a great fight of afflictions,” is how he terms it. But as these threats increased, it was important that they don’t surrender the practical expression of their faith in ministering to one another.

So as you come to chapter 13 you have these exhortations. We’re taking our time as we go through them. You have the general presentation of the command in verse 1: “Let brotherly love continue.” It stands alone, but it also feeds into what follows. It is expressed by the matters that follow. So verse 2: “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” That’s an expression of brotherly love—not just caring for those you know, but caring for those you do not know. And when providence creates the opportunity that, though we might say to ourselves, “Well, I don’t know this person”—and again, because of the context, those who weren’t known were a particular threat, because they might say to themselves, “Well, this person could betray us. They might not be sincere; they might be taking the name of Christ in order to infiltrate, to take back to our enemies details that will be used against us.” And so they could argue and reason in that way, but they are encouraged to keep on—entertain the stranger.

But he pushes further: “Remember them,” verse 3, “that are in bonds, as bound with them; and them which suffer adversity, as being yourselves also in the body.” He pushes further this matter of love—progressing. Don’t just love those who can come to you; love those that need you to go to them. Be aware of such a context in which you have to go out of your way to meet the need of those who suffer. “Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them; and them which suffer adversity, as being yourselves also in the body.” It’s not saying necessarily that the church would travel thousands of miles to people they don’t know. It is remembering those that you know—you’re aware of—who’re found in bonds now for their loyalty to Jesus Christ. Don’t forget them. Don’t ignore them.

There are things, of course, that would cause them to fear. If we go there, we also might, in being identified with them, find ourselves in trouble. And the mind can reason all sorts of things to prevent them from going forward. So they’re told—exhorted—remember them. See yourself as bound with them. Those that suffer adversity, those who may not necessarily be imprisoned but have suffered other things—keep these people in mind.

So he progresses, and we want to see now what we’ve titled: Love that is Sympathetic. Love that is Sympathetic. We’re going to see it in three ways. First, that this sympathy shows Compassion, Communion, and Christ. The sympathy shows Compassion, Communion, and Christ.

So we begin with the fact that sympathy shows compassion. This sympathy—“Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them; and them which suffer adversity, as being yourselves also in the body”—is an expression of compassion. I want to say it in two ways this morning.

First: obeying the command despite natural inclinations. We are to obey this command despite natural inclinations. “Remember them that are in bonds”—remember them. This is a command. It’s not just a command of duty; it’s a command that is enveloped in a setting of covenant relationship. Remember them: you’re in covenant relationship with them. Remember them. The verb “remember” means far more than to think upon. It is keeping in our heart those that we are connected to. When it says in Genesis 8 that God remembered Noah, it’s not just that God was thinking about Noah. The proof of God remembering Noah was seen in what He did. He caused the floods to assuage. He sent a wind to bring an end to the judgment and brought deliverance to His child. When God remembered Rachel, He opened her womb. So to remember is to act; it is to see a covenant relationship we were remembering—we are holding within the heart those that we are connected to—and we then act because of that connection.

We find this difficult. We find it difficult not because we don’t know these things, but because we have a flesh that wars against the Spirit. And you’re still in the flesh, and you’re in a battle, and you know it personally. You know personally what it means to fight to think pure thoughts, to fight to do what is right, to obey God, but it extends also into areas that sometimes we overlook.

It is the flesh, then, that does what we see described by our Lord Jesus Christ in the parable of the Good Samaritan—when we see those individuals who pass by on the other side, we think, How awful. Well, yes; but also that’s their nature. That’s the nature of man: to pass by on the other side, to find reasoning within the mind that says, “It’s not my job.”

My wife will remember a place where we met. It was a place where we worked—a restaurant. And there was a lady there who was the one who washed the plates and the pots and the pans and so on. If she was ever asked to do anything outside of that purview—beyond washing pots and pans and plates and so on—she always would say, “That’s not my job.” And that was always the response that became just a kind of a joke. We would say it to one another as well at times when we were asked to do things that were not necessarily what was under our job description, and we would joke with one another, “That’s not my job.”

Well, Christians do that. People do this. We do this by nature: “That’s not my job.” We find a way of circumventing the responsibility. And this is because of our heart—we are always fighting against it.

The natural heart, I think you can see it described by Jesus very well in Matthew 24:12—“because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold.” There’s even in the environment of this world an affect that infiltrates, spreads, and causes this coldness of heart.

We have a natural sense of pride within ourselves as well, in which Paul has to exhort in Philippians 2:3—“two believers, look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others.”

By nature then, men can be described as Paul does in 2 Timothy 3—that we are lovers of our own selves. So this is you and me by nature. This is how we default: coldness, pride, and selfishness. And those things are always at work. We’re having to fight. We’re having to bring God’s Word to push back against it. We’re endeavoring to suppress that natural inclination by obeying what the Lord says—by His power—doing what pleases Him.

And so such compassion, as is expressed here—to remember, truly remember—requires a supernatural grace of the new birth. “Our heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.” Again, in Philippians 2, when the Apostle Paul is describing—and he’s really elevating Timothy—he talks about how men generally are. He says, “All seek their own, not the things which are Jesus Christ’s. They seek their own.” That’s the default position. This is you. This is describing you. I know you don’t want to describe yourself in such a way—that I’m cold and proud and selfish—but that’s you. When you see yourself that way, you become alarmed and aware that this is where you will default, and therefore you need to be aware of that so that you may not fall into what is natural to you.

So we must go then to our Lord Jesus Christ to learn compassion. We’ll see this more when we come to the end. We’ve already been exhorted this morning to go to the cross, to be in the shadow of Calvary, and there we learn. We learn what a warm heart looks like, what a humble heart looks like, what a selfless heart looks like. We want to protect ourselves, but the calling is to spend—spend ourselves in the cause of Christ and the service of others. And so we need to be told this: “Remember them, remember them.” We remember them as we remember the High Priest going back in this epistle who is touched with the feeling of our infirmities, who sympathizes with us—He who came down from heaven, entered into this place of suffering for us, the dungeon of this world for us. We think upon Him, and it helps us to remember.

John, when writing in 1 John 4, says in verse 8, “‘He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love.’” And that’s what it is. The remembrance is a form of love. If we don’t have it, then it puts a question mark over our testimony. And listen: of all the verses of this section that we’re dealing with slowly, this is the one I have found most convicting so far.

Secondly, as we consider here this compassion—this sympathy showing compassion—it’s not only obeying the command despite natural inclinations; it is occupying the mind despite daily distractions. Occupying the mind despite daily distractions. This kind of sympathy that remembers means that we allow those who suffer to occupy the mind despite the daily distractions.

In other words, the two subpoints that we’re looking at here in relation to the compassion pivot on nature—that’s the problem in the first one: our nature. We’re fighting against our nature—and their environment. You’re fighting environment. The environment in which you’re surrounded is not conducive to this kind of obedient remembrance. You’re not being encouraged. This vile world is not a friend to grace, to help us on to God or even in obeying God.

So you’re surrounded by temptations and distractions, and this really is—if we make application of the Hebrews—the Hebrews are facing persecution; the threat of persecution. The threat for us is preoccupation. None of us here are being highly persecuted. If you are, I’m not aware of it. Please make me aware of it so I can pray for you. But most of us here don’t deal with anything like the persecution of the first century. There are little forms of persecution you will experience, but it’s not like this.

And so in making the application, the threat which to them was in big part the persecution, to us the threat is the preoccupation—so involved in other things. We inhabit a society that’s full of noise and hurry. As we binge on entertainment, as we drown in information, we forget. It’s not intentional, but we forget. God’s Word says to you: remember them.

Oh, we live our lives striving—striving constantly, striving after efficiency. Where is the place for taking time, allowing others to occupy the mind? The Spirit of God presses this matter with the word remember. We find it so easy to dress our indifference with language of busyness. “It’s not that we hate these people—those that are in bonds, those that suffer adversity—we’re not hating them, we don’t dislike them, we’re not trying to turn away from them, but we simply don’t slow down enough. We don’t take the time to feel. Their plight struggles to find space in our minds. You know about them, but you don’t remember them.”

Now admittedly there’s a geographic and cultural distance between us and those who are going through what is described here. No one in America really is going through anything like this. There may be some exceptions I’m not aware of, but largely those who are being bound for the cause of Jesus Christ—suffering adversity for the cause of Jesus Christ—that is physical loss, material loss, real suffering like this (let’s not lighten what this is describing; let’s not try to bring it into our context so much that we lose what was actually going on there). This was real: real imprisonment, real threat upon their life, real loss of the material, real severing of family ties.

And so there’s a sense in which we say, “Well, that’s not going on around us. There’s no one in our church that’s going through that,” and that would be true. So the full extent of the command within its context is hard for us to follow.

But I do find it interesting coming to this passage—and in recent weeks it’s not the first time I’ve heard this prayed for months ago, perhaps even beyond months into years—I’ve heard mention being made specifically of Christians in Nigeria in our prayer meeting. In the last number of weeks, there’s been an increase of reference to that, myself included. As we hear of what they are suffering—this is not new; it’s been going on for years—there seems to be an elevated awareness, and we are praying. And it is right. Belief then, as best as I can tell with all my limited understanding of what God is doing, cannot help but see how in the midst of this increase of prayer and thoughtfulness about suffering believers, a few days ago we find out that the president is communicating his intentions to take action if the Nigerian government does not—our own president. So one might say that as these suffering saints occupied more of our minds, it moved the hand of God to move the heart of others who can make a material difference.

“Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them; and them which suffer adversity”—them which see their husband dragged out of the home, only to hear later that he was killed. So in this, this compassion requires us to obey the command despite natural inclinations and to occupy the mind despite daily distractions. I say again: their plight struggles to find space in our minds, and this text is urging—urging you—to find space in your mind for such people.

Secondly, this sympathy shows communion—not only compassion, but communion. There is a sense of communion or fellowship—maybe a word that describes it more helpfully for you. “Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them.” So there are two things here as well.

First, it is a matter of identifying with believers in their suffering. The real way to show this sympathy—the sympathy commanded by this text—is to identify with believers in their suffering. “Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them.” Bound with them—imagining the chains that are upon them as being upon you; the isolation therein, putting yourself there as best you can. Imagining the suffering is beyond pity into participation. It’s not just saying, “I pity such people,” but you’re trying to participate in what they endure.

Now, the theology behind this is fascinating and one that we must always bear in mind: the theology of the union of all believers together. 1 Corinthians 12 bears this out. Romans 12 bears this out. Romans 12:5: “We being many are one body in Christ.” I urge you to go and read 1 Corinthians 12, Romans 12—get your mind around the union of all believers. We’re all joined in one body in Christ.

And so if one member is bound, the others suffer. Think of it like your own body: when you break your leg, the whole body experiences it; the whole body feels it. When your back is sore, when you’re afflicted with a disease that brings fatigue, you feel it—the whole body feels it. You can’t just isolate it and say, “Well, something’s not operating right; I’m going to kind of push this fatigue into one area and the rest of the body will operate at full capacity.” It doesn’t happen. You can’t just isolate the leg and sort of imagine that you’re going to set it aside for a while. It’s there; the limitations are with you.

We have to think about this then. This is the idea of the union of all believers. It’s so profound. The Apostle Paul says in 2 Corinthians 11:29, “Who is weak, and I am not weak?” Oh, just think on that: “Who is weak, and I am not weak?” In other words, he’s saying, look at believers—you find a weak believer, you’re going to see me in my weakness with them. Identifying with them, feeling with them. Oh, how convicting. He felt with them: “Who is weak, and I am not weak?”

Yes—we being many are one body in Christ. So this extends: we are bound with those who are bound. We suffer. The implication of verse 3 is we suffer with those who suffer. “Them which suffer adversity”—we are to see ourselves with them, suffering with them. They’ve been physically beaten, financially abused, socially cast out. This includes not only the individuals themselves but their wives and children, feeling along with them: imagining those children sitting at a table with little to no food because their father is no longer there to provide, and the wife going to bed alone—bound with them, suffering with them.

To these believers this was not theory. They knew believers going through this. Visiting them was of the utmost importance. The apostles pressed it with a threat, with a rising tide of persecution, with the social stigma that was arising—especially upon them being Hebrews, being Jewish. He’s pressing upon them: don’t give up. Keep visiting those cells. Keep going to those individuals. Oh, I know they’re filled with infection and disease—you risk your own life to go there—but go. I know to go there means to endure the possibility of suspicion from authorities—but go.

And those visits—those visits become living sermons to the visited and to the viewing. Living sermons of love. Those prison guards would not just hear that Christians love; they would see it and they would ask. “Look how they visit one another.” It is a matter of identifying with believers in their suffering: you’re in the same body.

But also, it is a matter of recognizing the likelihood of your own suffering. Recognizing the likelihood of your own suffering—that’s what’s pressed at the end of verse 3: “as being yourselves also in the body.” It’s not a reference to the spiritual body here; it’s to the shared mortality. “Them which suffer adversity”: all their physical affliction could happen to you. The same can happen to you. And what would you want in such a case? We all have a body; therefore none of us are beyond suffering. We are subject to pain, to loss, to persecution. And so we pray and visit knowing that there’s a possibility we may be the one that needs to be prayed for and visited. And so that’s what He’s pressing upon them. Don’t forget them. Remember your communion—your fellowship. You’re bound with them. Suffer with them; all they’re going through you might go through.

It’s not like angels coming who cannot really enter into the experience of man. Oh, they came and they ministered unto Jesus Christ in the wilderness—amazing—and they ministered unto Him in the garden. He suffered. But they didn’t suffer. Nor would they ever suffer as Jesus did there in the wilderness or as Jesus did in the Garden of Gethsemane. The angels couldn’t suffer that way. They came to minister, but they couldn’t suffer. Here’s what’s unique about us: we are called to minister knowing we also might be those who suffer and need to be ministered unto.

Oh, what is in store for those who lack such sympathy? Might they be forgotten? That was my thought, reading this: Might I be forgotten if I do not show the sympathy necessary?

Our communion with fellow believers should mean the following practical expressions of love. Just state these things.

First of all—summarizing these two points we’ve looked at—feel deliberately. We feel deliberately. We put ourselves there. That’s what it says: it’s calling us to remember. Remember. Put yourself there. See the circumstances. See yourself bound with them. Feel deliberately. It takes intentionality—giving them space in your mind; allowing yourself, encouraging yourself to remember them; pray for them; name them; communicate with them. Pray specifically.

Yes, feel deliberately; pray specifically—naming them before God, bringing them before the Lord, speaking bravely. Should they suffer and it becomes a matter in which they need voices to defend them or come to their aid, be brave enough to do so; not to remove yourself because of the stigma associated. Oh, I think this is far more prevalent than we might imagine—when our Lord Jesus was arrested, the disciples all forsook him and fled. I think that gives insight into how most believers respond. In the moment we can all think about, “I’ll stay with you.” It’s like Dr. Paisley used to say—I’ve talked about this before—Christians say, “We’re right behind you, Dr. Paisley.” Then when it came to the heat of the battle, he would look behind himself and they were so far behind him he couldn’t see them. I think that plays out in life. The disciples forsook Jesus and fled, and so will we if we do not adopt a mentality of seeing ourselves bound with them, suffering with them, and then call to minister to them.

So speak bravely—don’t be ashamed—give practically. They had done this. Chapter 10 brings that out. It gets encouraged again later. We’ll see it. And prepare spiritually. I think that’s the other thing: preparing spiritually. Because “as being yourselves also in the body,” it’s preparing ourselves. This is going to be me someday. I may suffer adversity. I’ll be the one who’s the outcast and suffering. So let me prepare myself spiritually. Allow me to visit with them so I learn. I see what it is to suffer well. I see what it is to endure hardness. I see what it is to triumph through grace, to see God leading His dear children along.

See, our Lord Jesus—this is the thing—our Lord Jesus felt this. I mentioned it a few weeks ago in the prayer meeting. We had mentioned our Lord Jesus standing when Stephen was stoned. Everywhere we see theologically that Jesus Christ ascending to the right hand of God is seated—theologically He is seated; His position is seated because that’s what kings do.

But when Stephen was stoned and was murdered at the hands of religious men, Jesus stood up. He honored his servant, showed the dignity of this dear man, and stood for his welcome. And so later, when his clothes—the garments of Stephen—were laid at the feet of a young man whose name was Saul, that same Jesus set His focus on that young man and started goading him with the truth—started goading him with the memory of Stephen. For all his diligence, all Saul’s effort to be accepted before God, here was a man who had clarity on the truth like Saul probably had never heard in his life, and had such an aura of piety and genuine Christ-likeness—God-likeness in that sense—the purity of his whole demeanor as he watched him die. And his conscience was pricked.

And so as he makes his way to Damascus intent on destroying all those like Stephen, the Lord Jesus comes: “It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks. Behold, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest.” “It’s me you’re attacking, Saul. It’s me; because I am bound with them. There are many members in one body. I am the head. When you touch them, you touch me.”

Sympathy shows communion. Lastly, the sympathy shows Christ. “Remembering them that are in bonds, as bound with them; and them which suffer adversity” is to show Christ. He is the one who did this, is He not?

Three things before we close: think of Christ and His remembrance of sinners. He remembered—you see it there. I mentioned it earlier: as the children of Israel cried in their affliction, God remembered His covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and He came to deliver. It’s covenant remembrance. Our Lord Jesus Christ remembered sinners and their affliction, and in that eternal covenant bound Himself to respond to their need. So He did. He took upon Him our nature—coming into this world, incarnate, born of the Virgin Mary. There He was, growing up as a tender plant and as a root out of a dry ground. There was no form nor comeliness; when they saw Him, there was no beauty that they should desire Him. He was despised and rejected of men—a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. We hid, as it were, our faces from Him. He was despised and we esteemed Him not. “Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” He remembered. He remembered. He saw these sheep and all their plight and He said, “I will be their shepherd. I will lay down my life for the sheep.” He remembered.

His relation to sinners: He didn’t only remember them—He saw Himself related to them. Yes; for as much then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, He also Himself likewise took part of the same. And so He is not ashamed to call His brethren “brethren.” And so He remembers. He remembers them that are in bonds; is bound with them. Yes, He saw them in the bondage of their sin, and He said, “I’ll take the bondage. I’ll take the chains. I’ll take the guilt and the shame, and you go free.”

Which brings us then to Christ and His relief of sinners—His remembrance, His relation, and His relief. That’s what we’re doing as best we can when we “remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them; and them which suffer adversity.” We are to endeavor to bring relief in whatever way we can—maybe by visitation, certainly by prayer. Bring relief, because that’s what our Lord Jesus came to bring—real relief. His whole ministry then was just dispensing relief, wasn’t it? His miracles—just dispensing relief. And to the widow of Nain: she carried her child; she had lost everything; she was already a widow. They had compassion on her, said, “Weep not,” and touched the bier—raised the child. Relief. Real relief.

This is the conclusion of the whole matter: that our remembrance, our visitation, our alleviation is temporary and limited, but there is coming a relief that is full and final. So—as often been sung—there is coming a day when no heartaches shall come; no more clouds in the sky; no more tears to dim the eye. All is peace forevermore on that happy golden shore. What a day—glorious day—that will be. There’ll be no sorrow there, no burdens to bear, no more sickness, no pain, no more parting; and forever I will be with the one who died for me. What a day—glorious day—that will be.

“Remember them that are in bonds, and them which suffer adversity.” As we sit at the table we remember. Remember the One who remembered us. And we remember the degree to which He remembered us—to suffer for our sins, to take our place. He came, as it were, to those imprisoned, and He said, “I’ll take your place. You go free.” Oh, how that sets us up to serve one another. Oh, how that drives away the coldness of the heart and the pride that thinks only on our own things, and the selfishness that so entangles us. May God help us.

Let’s bow together in prayer. These are practical things to hear. The first-century church heard them because they needed to hear them, and we also need to hear them. Some of you are exemplary in this way—I thank God for you because you provoke the rest of us to more love and more good works. And there are others of us that have a long way to go. May God help us. God do help us. We pray we may look back and see Thy transforming grace in shaping us so that we are more like Thee. Oh, to be like Thee. We pray that Thou wilt continue to mold this preacher and this people and that there would be more of this kind of selfless love. We pray then, Lord, use us to alleviate the sufferings of others. Use us to minister where there’s need. Bless us now as we come to this table. Help us to remember. Sanctify our thoughts. Teach us Thy ways. We pray in our Savior’s name. Amen.