Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.
—Romans 12:15
In the early 1990s, just after the Gulf War ended, I heard President George H. W. Bush speak about the decision to go to war. He described the night before he gave the order, and how he had spent significant time in prayer, weeping for the lives he knew would be lost on both sides of the conflict.
Now some commentators took him to task for that. “Why is our President talking about his tears? Are these just phony political tears? Is a man who weeps emotionally stable enough to lead?” But I, for one, was grateful. Grateful for a leader who, before sending a nation to war, was on his face before God, who didn’t drop bombs without compassion. It takes a big man to get down on his knees and weep. We’re told big boys don’t cry, but the truth is, real men and women of God do cry, because they have hearts of compassion.
That’s exactly what Paul is calling for in this short, powerful verse. “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” It’s one of the simplest commands in Scripture, and one of the hardest to live out, because it asks us to step out of our own world and into someone else’s, to feel what they feel.
Take the first half: “rejoice with those who rejoice.” You’d think that would be easy, but it isn’t always. It’s easy to celebrate a wedding or a new baby. But can you rejoice when someone else gets the promotion you worked so hard for and didn’t receive? That takes a heart free of envy, a heart genuinely glad for another’s good. People go where they’re celebrated, not merely tolerated.
Then the second half: “weep with those who weep.” This is where compassion gets costly. It means being sensitive and present to the hurts of those around us. And here’s something worth remembering, the opposite of love is not always hate. Sometimes the opposite of love is simply apathy, indifference, the shrug that says, “That’s not my problem.” Jesus never shrugged. He wept over Jerusalem. He wept at the grave of His friend Lazarus, even knowing He was about to raise him.
Because we have been so forgiven and so graced by God, we’re able to enter into the pain and suffering of others, believers and the lost alike. We weep over a neighbor without Christ. We weep over nations without the gospel. We come alongside the hurting and let them know they are not alone.
So don’t feel like you always have to hold it together, keep a stiff upper lip, stay strong and unmoved. A heart of stone is not a sign of maturity; a heart of compassion is. We are called not to harden ourselves against people’s pain but to share in it.
HAVE A HEART OF COMPASSION, NOT A HEART OF STONE, REJOICE WITH THOSE WHO REJOICE, AND WEEP WITH THOSE WHO WEEP.
