The Tenderness of God

July 28, 2023

A little exploration of God's tenderness in different parts of Scripture.

In one prayer time recently, I felt the nudge to revisit some passages that speak of God’s tenderness – a virtue so at odds with the world. Virtues like this often get a bad rap as though if we take them on we’ll inevitably leave ourselves open to abuse or bullying or becoming the proverbial doormat.


But in terms of God’s self, when we come to Him in our brokenness, facing the sins we’re struggling to shake or the wounded parts of ourselves that seem resistant to the gospel, it is precisely this virtue (and others like it: gentleness, meekness etc) that invite us to break out of our mistrust and believe that God is truly worthy to be believed. That perhaps even the most shame-filled, hidden areas within us might find freedom and hope in the light of this tender-hearted God. That maybe we can move out of our fears into the fulness of faith.


This is by no means an exhaustive or academic study on God’s tenderness that I offer, just a few reflections and observations on a cursory look around the Bible to see verses that might encourage when our hearts are discouraged.


A bruised reed He will not break


God’s tenderness means in our vulnerability we are safe. There are a number of passages where we can draw comfort on this, but I’ve always found Matthew 12 compelling. In the midst of several stories of Jesus providing, healing and delivering people in need, we get these verses quoted from Isaiah 42:1-4:

“Here is my servant, whom I have chosen,
     my beloved, with whom my soul is well pleased.
I will put my Spirit upon him,
     and he will proclaim justice to the gentiles.

 He will not wrangle or cry aloud,
     nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets.
He will not break a bruised reed
     or quench a smoldering wick
     until he brings justice to victory.
 And in his name the gentiles will hope.”

 

He will not break a bruised reed. He will not step into the state of our souls with size 9s that give no heed to where we are bruised or hurting. Our God is not a god of rough religion. He cares about what is right, what is just. He needs not yell or scream to be heard. Indeed this verse is quoted right when Jesus advises the crowds not to share widely what they’ve seen. The work of the Spirit will blow where it will and things grow when the time is right. Jesus did not need to force the work God had entrusted to Him. He was in step and led by the Spirit. Not by the strength of humankind...


He embraces children – and we are to be like them!

In Matthew 19:13-15 the disciples try and keep the children away from Jesus, yet he invites them in. “Let the children come to me, and do not stop them, for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs” says Jesus. (And yet how often have I heard or seen people act differently than this and complain about children being in church!) He invites them to come to him and he embraces them. His tenderness means He is a safe and welcoming embrace for least among us.


Yet Jesus goes further than that. Because the backstory is found in Matthew 18:1-5, where He made it clear: to enter the kingdom of God, you and I need to become like children (and to welcome children in turn). The disciples wanted to know how to be the greatest, the holiest, the most righteous. Jesus says: be the most vulnerable, dependent, and insignificant. 


But then in v.6-7 Jesus offers this stern warning: 


“If any of you cause one of these little ones who believe in me to stumble, it would be better for you if a great millstone were fastened around your neck and you were drowned in the depth of the sea. Woe to the world because of things that cause sin! Such things are bound to come, but woe to the one through whom they come!”


This is much like God’s words in Leviticus 19:14: “You shall not revile the deaf or put a stumbling block before the blind; you shall fear your God: I am the Lord.” This verse comes in the middle of a description of how the holy people of God are to act with impartiality and integrity for one’s neighbour as well as extra consideration and care for those in poverty or the immigrant, being mindful of their needs. 


God in His tenderness cares for the vulnerabilities of His people, those seen and unseen needs. To come into His kingdom, we do so in our vulnerability and needy state, like a child. But woe to the one who claims to this tender name of Christ yet causes such a person to stumble and sin. That is anathema to God’s love.

“Neither do I condemn you”


John 8 tells the famous story of Jesus and the woman caught “in the very act” of adultery and dragged out before Jesus. Jesus’ words cause all her accusers to depart. And then neither does Jesus condemn (though he makes it clear it’s time for a change). Romans 8:1 also clearly reminds us: “Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”


But when it comes to God’s tenderness in relation to forgiveness and freedom, this verse summed it up for me:

“With my mouth I will give great thanks to the Lord;
     I will praise him in the midst of the throng.

For he stands at the right hand of the needy,
     to save them from those who would condemn them to death.”

(Psalm 109:31)


Perhaps it’s accusers that stand before us like the Jewish leaders stood before the woman in John 8. Perhaps it’s the accuser within that says we are stupid or foolish or shameful or a mistake or unworthy or hateful.


To draw from the Apocrypha for a moment, Wisdom 12:15 says this of God:

"You are righteous, and you rule all things righteously,
deeming it alien to your power
to condemn anyone who does not deserve to be punished."


Yet how much more we have through the One who took our punishment! Those who don’t deserve it aren’t condemned. And through Christ even those who do deserve it aren’t condemned.


To wrap up


1 John 3 is well worth a read on this topic. As we seek to grow and go forward in this tender love of God, we learn God can be trusted. Where our hearts aren’t quite there yet and still condemn us – we learn that God is greater than such accusations (v.20). And where our hearts have fully learned to trust God’s tender heart and know we are not condemned, then we discover a confidence we never knew was possible.


The miracle of knowing God’s tenderness is that as we come to experience and know it for ourselves, what happens is not that we become weak and liable to abuse. No! What happens is we become exactly who He made us to be—people who can truly share His love with others. He turns our hearts of stone into hearts of flesh. Hearts that can love just as He loves us.  


***






Photo credits:

Bird & Reeds by . philographism on Unsplash

Three girls by Muhammad-taha Ibrahim on Unsplash


By Suse McBay May 29, 2025
****** “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.” I’m not sure if it’s true, but George Lucas, the creator of Star Wars, is credited as popularizing a big change in film production: not having opening credits. Instead of old Westerns and black and white films that began by naming the director, producer, key stars and so on, Lucas began the Star Wars films with the very famous line: “ A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away .” And then came the opening “crawl” that sets up the viewer for the story to come: "It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire..." And so it sets up the story of Luke, Leia and Han Solo. Well, I want to suggest this morning that here in Acts 1 we have the opening words and “crawl” to the Book as a whole. And what sets the scene? Jesus’ ascension. *** In Acts 1, Luke recaps from where his gospel left off in Luke 24, with similar talk of the spread of gospel to the ends of the earth, that his disciples will be his witnesses, and his instruction to wait for the promise of God to come that is His Spirit, as well as, of course, Jesus’ ascent into heaven. But the Acts version has a specific focus: repeatedly mention the watching and looking of the disciples, the taking and lifting up of Jesus and the repeated mention of his destination: heaven. So why this attention in Acts' “opening crawl”? How does this set the scene for the story of the church that is told in Acts and continues today? Well, in contrast to the first victory in the opening of Star Wars, perhaps preparing for more victories to come, the Ascension grounds us in the defining, cosmic-shaping victory of Jesus that began with his resurrection and conlcudes with his exaltation in the spiritual world. Echoing Daniel 7, Jesus is taken up on a cloud, the chariot of the warrior-God, and is now enthroned to rule in heaven. The work of the church is done in light of this all-encompassing victory that has already been won. Christ is already King. But it’s not only that. Often we talk about Jesus’ ascension from a human perspective: his physical departure from earth. Here the disciples see for themselves Jesus’ exaltation and the opening of heaven: they are gripped by it. Through Christ’s entrance into and rule in heaven, he is made more readily available to us on earth. T he work of the church is done by living in a new space that recognises this opening of heaven: consider God’s promised Holy Spirit who comes in Acts 2, how angels appear here and throughout Acts, as well as people being healed, delivered from evil spirits, miracles taking place and people coming to faith . The spiritual realm is breaking in. So, this Thursday of 5th week, with deadlines, looming exams and soon-to-come ordinations: where will we look? Will we stare upwards and wonder where Jesus went? Or will we look outwards, and live in the light of the one who rules the heavens and has opened heaven to us, and for whom we wait to rule the earth as well? ******
By Suse McBay May 13, 2025
*** True Colours I was in a situation a few years ago where someone I trusted and expected to act in a certain way didn’t do so. In fact, they did they did the opposite. It hurt. It hurt because there were consequences that affected me, but it also hurt because I thought I knew the person, that I knew how’d they’d respond to pressure. When the rubber hits the road and things get real. Instead, their true colours emerged, and I was wrong. Who I thought this person was, and who they told me they were, was in reality quite different from who they actually proved themselves to be . The specifics aren’t for posting online, but I’m sure you can relate. Most of us can recall some kind of experience of someone we love, someone whose character we trust, letting us down. Someone who you might have believed in—maybe even defended to other people—choosing to do something that shows they weren’t worthy of that trust. Showing that your assessment of them was, essentially, quite different from the reality of who they are. They lacked integrity. Esther’s Example This term at Wycliffe, my colleague John is teaching his way through the book of Esther for the Bible expositions in chapel. Now the book of Esther famously doesn’t even mention God: so what is its purpose? Well, in part (as my colleague has been discussing), it’s a book about wisdom. Will we learn from the wise in the story: Esther (and Mordecai)? Will learn from the foolish: King Ahasuerus? The wicked: Haman? At the start of the book, Esther is a young, timid woman, who’d been through a lot. She was orphan and had been raised by her uncle. But she shows willingness and some social savviness and does what Mordecai tells her to do. By the end of the book she’s bold and courageous. Yes, she knows how to play the political game, but she does so in order to stand up for her people who are being persecuted by Persian imperial policy. She exposes Haman’s duplicitousness. Esther has a remarkable integrity and commitment to who she is and what she values. She is willing to risk her life to stand up for what is right, even knowing the cost. She has integrity. Her insides match her outsides as her character develops through the book. When We Fail Stephen and I go to a large Anglican church in the centre of Oxford. A couple of weeks ago, we had a visiting preacher (who is also a poet and philosopher) preaching about baptism. In the course of his sermon, he reminded us that who we really are is who we are when no-one is watching. And that Jesus died for us, knowing exactly what we do when the curtains are closed and no-one can see us. Again, it speaks to integrity—and that Jesus has come to deal with it. If everyone else thinks I’m a model Christian, but at home, by myself, I’m angry, compulsive, critical, selfish or greedy, the latter is a far more honest assessment of who I am and needs some spiritual help. It exposes a lack of integrity: I have an exterior self who looks one way, but an interior self (that I hide away) that looks quite another. What will happen when the pressure is on? That interior self will come out, one way or another. The good news is Jesus went to the Cross, even for that interior self. And with his help I can be forgiven, heal and become whole. That’s in part what baptism symbolises: me dying to all that ugliness and ungodliness. Naming it, owing it and leaving it with Jesus at the Cross, and then rising to a new life that where my insides match my outsides. A person of integrity. Learn from the Wise: Daniel 11-12 But what of the original situation: when others we trusted in and believed in have let us down? I’ve been teaching my way through the book of Daniel and its been fascinating to muse on this topic. Daniel 7-12 describe a series of visionary experiences that give God’s perspective on the political problems and extreme religious oppression that led to the Maccabean revolt in the 160s BC. These were largely due to the decisions of the Antiochus IV who was on the throne of the Hellenistic empire, a Greek of Seleucid descent. You can read about Antiochus IV in 1 and 2 Maccabees, but the snapshot version is that he installed puppet high priests in the Temple at Jerusalem, looted it for money to fuel his military campaigns, outlawed the Torah (including Sabbath observance and circumcision) and, most egregiously, desecrated the Temple with pig sacrifices and an altar to Zeus. These orders resulted in many faithful Jews having to try and keep Torah secretly. When discovered, those who had done so were public shamed and then executed (e.g. 2 Macc 6:10). It was miserable existence (2 Macc 6:9). Antiochus IV’s diabolical political rule was one thing, but the book of Daniel also wrestles with this: what do we do when our religious leaders let us down? When their outsides don’t match their insides? When we discover they are white-washed tombs (Matt 23:27)? The high priest and many other religious establishment figures were swayed by Antiochus IV at the expense of their loyalty to the Lord Most High. Daniel 11 and 12 in particular speak to this situation. Daniel 11:32 says that Antiochus will “seduce with intrigue those who violate the covenant” in contrast to “the people who are loyal to their God.” A few verses later we learn why: “Those who acknowledge him [Antiochus] he shall make more wealthy, and shall appoint them as rulers over many, and shall distribute the land for a price” (v.39). Antiochus used his power and means to get what he wanted, and those who showed more fidelity to him than to the God of Israel, got to share in that wealth themselves. So, what is Daniel’s answer to when the stewards of God’s covenant and teachers of God’s law reveal their true colours? When their words and who they’ve said they are don’t match up with who they have shown themselves to be? When those around us lack integrity, what are we to do? Well, it’s not to keep hanging on and believing in religious leaders who have proven themselves to be corrupted by political power (they are destined for shame and contempt, Dan 12:2). Daniel’s suggestion is to fix our eyes elsewhere instead: “ The wise among the people shall give understanding to many; for some days, however, they shall fall by sword and flame, and suffer captivity and plunder. ” (Daniel 11:33) Look to the wise. Look to those with understanding. Come to understand for yourselves. But this is not an easy answer. For these are the folk that get into trouble. Who perish by the sword. They don’t look like winners. This is perhaps why Daniel’s own response to the visions is one of weakness, fear and trembling. To understand and see reality for what it is can be deeply disturbing. In Daniel, understanding revolves around knowing God is God of all and all kings should have limits to their power. Even when kings like Antiochus IV trample on what is sacred, and transgress into the holy of holies—divine space—God through his angels is contending with powers beyond human ones and will bring all to judgement. But the waiting in the meantime will not be easy or pain-free. That’s why the promise of resurrection is so important in Daniel 12: it’s reassurance for the faithful—for the wise—to keep going. It is they who will be raised and will be like angels: "Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever." (Dan. 12:3) When those we’ve trusted and believed in fail us, God is at work. There may not be easy answers, and sitting with the reality of betrayal is painful, but God is not done yet. Sometimes what is happening is part of a much bigger, cosmic picture and God will intervene. Others’ words and actions may not line up, but ours can. Our insides can match our outsides and our words match our actions. With God’s help we too can become “ people who are loyal to their God ,” those who “ shall stand firm and take action. ” (Dan. 11:32) ****** Cover picture: John Everett Millais, Esther, 1863–65, Oil on canvas, 77.4 x 106 cm, Private Collection

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