What does compassion look like?

I've recently returned from a trip to Uganda with the charity Compassion. I've been wanting to blog about it almost since the day we arrived, but it's taken me until now to do so. Partly that's because life has been busy, but partly it's because I haven't yet fully managed to process and work through all of the stuff that we saw and encountered. I'm an extrovert and I process things by talking about them, and since I came home there hasn't been much chance to do that as life and church and advent have taken over! If I'm not careful though, the moment will pass - so here are a few random thoughts, that I'll probably be processing even as I'm writing. Bear with me!

The first thing to say is that Uganda turns out to be one of the most stunningly beautiful places you could ever imagine. I've travelled a lot, and I've been to some amazing places, but gosh, I loved Uganda! Especially Kisoro, where we stayed for a few days, in a beautiful hilltop guest house run by the Diocese of Muhabura (led by the Official Best Bishop in the World Ever). It was so lush and green and the views were breathtaking. I very much hope to visit again one day!

The trip was also a good one because it was with a fabulous bunch of people - 9 of us all involved in some way in church leadership and in New Wine, and 2 members of staff from Compassion UK. Some I already knew very well, some just a bit, and some not at all - but I laughed pretty much solidly for the whole 12 days, which simply in and of itself is very good for the soul!

And then there was the whole point of the trip! To see first hand the amazing work of Compassion. I've been a supporter of Compassion for quite a few years now. Since 2003 I've sponsored a little girl in India. She was 5 when I begun to sponsor her and when she was 13 I was fortunate enough to go out and visit her, and to see the project, visit her home and meet her family. It was a fabulous experience, and one that I'll never forget. Meeting her after 8 years of exchanging letters, and seeing her grow from a little girl into a teenager, was a joy. Sadly her family have since moved away and are outside of the project's area, but I have swapped to sponsor a 16 year old girl in the same project. On that trip I was accompanied by a friend, B, and we also then went to Thailand to visit the little girl she sponsors. We had a wonderful time in both places.

So, I thought I knew quite a bit about Compassion, and was pretty sold on what they do. However, this trip completely blew me away! What an incredibly impressive charity it is. Every staff member we met was completely in love with Jesus, utterly dedicated to their work, and totally passionate about transforming the lives of poor communities.

As I write I can tell that I have several essays within me on this topic!! I imagine there will be several more blogs to come... But for now I think the thing that I'm reflecting on is what 'compassion' actually means, and looks like (the actual word, that is, not the charity!). My dictionary defines it as "sympathetic pity and concern for the sufferings or misfortunes of others". That's fine, isn't it, up to a point - but then what? I did feel pity and concern for the people I met in Uganda, of course I did - compared with my comfortable life here in the UK they had so little. There were heartbreaking stories to hear and homes to visit. There were times when I was moved to tears by what I was seeing and experiencing. That's as it should be - if I didn't feel like that there would be something wrong. 

But then what? Because my pity and concern don't help anyone. They don't help me. They either just make me feel awful that I have so much and they have so little, and I become almost paralysed at the fact that there's nothing I can do; or they make me feel numb - I have to switch off and not let it affect me because it's just too hard. They also don't help them. They don't need my pity. For one thing, that's because most of the people we met were joyful and lively and fun (especially those who knew Jesus). They praised and worshipped and enjoyed life in a way that would put many of our churches to shame! But for another thing, it's because they need my love, and my prayers, and my time, and my energy, and my money - not my pity.

One of my favourite songs is Hosanna, by Brooke Fraser. In it is the line "break my heart for what breaks yours" - this is my constant prayer to God in the areas of ministry for which he has given me a passion, among the lost and the broken and the marginalised. I want my heart to break when I see things which aren't right - when people are being treated unjustly, when people are starving, when people are being told they don't matter. And yet if all that happens is that my heart breaks, that's not enough. I need my heart to break just enough for me to be spurred to act, but not so much that I give up in despair. The line before that one in the song gives the answer, I think - "show me how to love like you have loved me". That has to be the key. If I can truly get my head around how God loves me, and if I am able as much as possible to copy that love, then that will be the thing that makes the difference.

That's why, while in Uganda, I decided to sponsor another child. Before we'd gone I'd thought about it and decided I couldn't afford it. Once we were in the project and meeting the children, I still couldn't afford it! But I also knew I had to do it. My heart broke just enough to make it happen. 

So for me, compassion looked like that breaking of my heart, in tune with God's heart, to do what I could to make a difference. And Compassion are doing that in a truly incredible way. I cannot speak highly enough of the way they work. 

But the rest will have to wait for another blog...!

For now, here's a photo of the gorgeous little person who stole my heart and who I've just started to sponsor.

Going solo

Tonight's been an interesting evening. I've been at Liverpool Cathedral, for my first ever live performance of Handel's Messiah. I've wanted to hear it for as long as I can remember, but for various reasons have never managed to do so until tonight. It was spectacular! It featured the combined choirs of the 2 Cathedrals, plus the Chamber Orchestra. I knew much of the music already, of course, but hearing it live was as wonderful as I'd hoped it would be - and what better place for my first time than our fabulous Cathedral, one of my favourite buildings in the world, and a venue with more than enough drama, attitude and acoustics to carry it off.

As well as enjoying the fabulous music and singing, I was doing a lot of reflecting this evening. For those of us who are single, the 'going to events on your own' dilemma is one which is never fully resolved. I imagine there are some super-confident and self-assured people who will cheerfully arrive at events by themselves, chat breezily all evening to perfect strangers, and then happily make their way home alone again afterwards. I don't, however, imagine there are many!

I also imagine there are some people who never go to events alone, and consequently, don't go to many events. They're nervous about arriving alone, having no one to talk to, feeling awkward, coming home alone again... It can feel very hard.

I've wanted to hear Messiah for a really long time. Last year, it was on at the Philharmonic. I was excited, and emailed lots of friends to see if they were interested in coming along. Some couldn't make it, some weren't interested, some took forever to reply! Eventually one friend said she'd like to come, and I set about booking tickets - but I'd left it too late, and it was sold out. This year, quite a while ago, I saw that it was going to be on at the Cathedral. Determined not to miss out again, I booked a ticket. Just one. I didn't even bother to invite friends! I wanted to go, and I was going to go!

Fast forward to today, and it's been a heck of a day (and a heck of a week!). I (still!) haven't finished preparing for the all age service tomorrow. I'm getting a cold (I think - although for most of the past week I've felt like I'm getting a cold and then I haven't). I had a flat tyre & had to spend far too much money on a new one. In some ways all I wanted to do was stay in. But I was excited about going to Messiah, and so I went. There was that familiar pang about going by myself - that sort of jollying along that you have to do to persuade yourself to get moving. Of course, it was a fabulous evening, and I'm more than glad that I went.

But. You see, it's not easy to do the going solo thing.

Don't get me wrong, there are great parts about it. I decided I wanted to go, I booked my ticket, and I went. I didn't have to check what anyone else wanted to do. There's something fun and freeing about being able to please myself on occasion. I chose when to arrive, where to sit, when to leave. I could chat to the people either side of me if I wanted to (with the exciting dual possibilities of meeting a lovely, fun new person - or being labelled a crazy, eccentric nutcase).

But there are also rubbish parts about it. I didn't have anyone to look forward to it with beforehand. I didn't have anyone to offer to drive and do the stressful last minute squeeze-in-a-tiny-space parking for me. I didn't have anyone to save me a seat while I went to the loo. I didn't have anyone to make small talk with and gossip about why the cassocks of the girls on the right were 5 times brighter than those of the girls on the left. I didn't have anyone to talk to in the interval so of course I messed about with my phone and pretended to be popular. I didn't have anyone to whisper to about how fabulous it all was. I didn't have anyone to debrief with afterwards (I know it was only a concert, but I'm an extrovert, I have to talk!). I didn't have anyone to drive home with. I didn't have anyone to make me a cup of tea when I got in.

Gosh that's a list of moans! Except, I don't mean them to be moans. They're just facts. Loads of you will understand them, if you're single yourself, or ever have been - or perhaps even if you're unhappily partnered. It is what it is, I realise that. Good bits and bad bits. Fun times and tough times. Life, basically!

This isn't a moan, or a rant, or a sympathy plea. It's just a reflection. My mind wandered to it as I drove home. I'd love to know if it resonates with you. Basically I'm writing a diary entry and sharing it with the world...!

I'm glad I went. Messiah was fabulous. An item on my bucket list is ticked off. And I got to come home and finish the box of chocolates a friend gave me the other day, with no one else fighting me for the orange creme - so it's not all bad!