Request.

I used to live in a small house on the crest of a hill overlooking Risca. I only rented it and it wasn’t the greatest house in the world but the garden more than made up for property’s short comings. When I sat in the garden, with the house behind me, all I could see was hill after hill of beautiful Welsh landscape. It was as though all of man’s construction had melted away and I was looking out over God’s canvas. Whenever I had the chance I would sit out there and watch the sun go down. Despite having seen it so many times it was always as though there was too much for me to take in; my eyes could no longer process the beauty and I would simply sit there filled with a sense of awe and wonder.

The same thing is often true of the Bible; it radiates the beauty of God’s instructions. But it is all too much to take in. On more occasions than I can remember I will find myself reading a familiar passage and then all of a sudden something new appears. It must have always been there, but now it captivates me and I do not know how it could ever have passed unnoticed. As with the landscape at sunset, perhaps the Son’s light caught it just for that moment causing it’s beauty to radiate and catch my eye.

This is what happened to me at the prayer meeting the other day when we read this passage:
When [Jesus] saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, "The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field." Matt 9:36-38

When Jesus saw the crowd following him he was stirred with compassion. He wasn’t stirred with a desire to preach, or tell them about God’s Kingdom, or perform some miracle; he was simply filled with compassion, and it was this that motivated all of the above.
How often do we find ourselves in a crowd but fail to be stirred with compassion for their salvation?
I remember one Sunday when Ruth and I raced off to IKEA immediately after church. When we had picked up whatever-it-was-we-needed, I was surprised to find such large queues at the checkouts. Something in me nearly snapped; had none of these people been to church? Did they not know about this Jesus who had rescued them? Who created and loves them? I could have cried at that moment (but I didn’t, I was just a bit shell shocked). I wanted to shout out “JESUS LOVES YOU!” for everyone to hear (but I didn’t).

I wonder if we are not often stirred with the compassion of Jesus to pray ”Lord, send the workers because the harvest is here” because we are worried in case God’s reply is, “Go. I send you.” I wonder how often my life exhibits self-preservation rather than a desire to preserve the lives of others.

Lord of the harvest, send out the workers you have prepared – whoever they are and whatever the cost. Fill us with compassion for those who need you, the Good Shepherd.