Unbridled

Yesterday my son came to me with a small problem. He had developed some irritating, itchy spots on his legs that he wanted to know what they were and what to do about them. He asked me to look at them which I did. They looked a little like poison ivy, but not quite. They looked a little like a rash of some sort, but not quite. They looked like a bug bite of some sort, but not quite. Anyway, you get the picture. Unsure of what was causing his discomfort, I had compassion for his aliment, because I knew how it felt to have an itchy, uncomfortable rash. Unfortunately, the only thing I could offer him was the less than comforting words, “I understand what you’re going through son, but there really isn’t anything I can do for you. You’re just going to try not to itch it and just deal with it until it goes away.”
I am sure it was little comfort to him, and even though I understood his affliction, I did not really feel his affliction. The next morning, I woke up and found that I too had some of these mysterious itchy spots appearing on my legs as well. I struggled to resist the temptation to scratch and discomfort of these mystery spots. Then it hit me–my son. My heart immediately filled with a new compassion for him. I now did more than just understand his pain, but now was filled with a deeper desire to relieve his suffering. To free him from his pain and discomfort. Now, I was compelled to relieve his suffering with a new determination. I was moved to more than words, my experience had compelled me to find a way to relieve his discomfort. Where before I could only offer words, my experience had now moved me to action. I found some anti-itch ointment and immediately went to him to help relieve the itch. Something else also happened beyond just being moved to action, I now felt a bond with him, “the fellowship of the itch” if you will. And now, every time it scratch my own itch, I am reminded of how much I love him and the common experience we have shared through our trial.
I pondered this new perspective and thought of the stripes Jesus bore for me. The sin He bore for me, the shame, the pain, the rejection. I realized that there is a great difference between God’s understanding of our affliction and the actual suffering and pain He felt with us through His Son. I see more clearly why Jesus chose to be as a man (Philippians 2:8), so that His compassion would be complete, beyond understanding, but knowing our pain, even unto death. I now can also see that there are some things that can only be gained through trials and suffering. No for punishments sake, but that we may be made perfect in peace (James 1-4) able to love with the compassionate heart of Christ.
I rejoice in my itchy rash, for it has opened my eyes to a deeper understanding of how deep is the love of the Father and the Son.