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 July 28, 2026
Let me start by asking a question: if someone came up to you and asked what's the benefit or blessing of being a Christian, what would you include in your answer? There's the things we might know to say from Sunday School: Jesus loves me, died for me, so I can be forgiven and free. Or something like that. Would it naturally come to your lips to say this: The gift of my faith is that no matter how hard life gets, no matter the sorrow or suffering that comes my way, I am reassured and strengthened by the confidence that God does not ignore the unjust lives or deaths of those who stick close to Him? *** This summer I’m taking some time to look at Daniel 11-12 and Book 4 of the Jewish poetic writings I research, the Sibylline Oracles . This post is an observation and an out-loud thought from some of my reading. Again and again, both in Daniel, the Sibyllines, an array of other Jewish literature, and the gospels (as well as elsewhere in the NT—e.g. Mark 8:38-9:1, 10:29-31, John 11:25, 1 Cor 15:16-19, 2 Corinthians 4), resurrection and the post-mortem life appears as an encouragement and response to the problem of human suffering. Not a rationale or justification. It’s not an answer to the question of ‘why does God allow suffering’ in any overt sense. But an end to the story of God’s peoples that shapes how the present might be lived. When I was very young, I thought resurrection was more-or-less a get of jail free card for the crucifixion. Jesus died on a cross to deal with sin and death. But if he isn't raised it's all pointless: so God has to raise him. Resurrection as an after thought, if you will. But resurrection isn't an epilogue. It's the victory. Without it the whole story is pointless. It's a real, substantial, material hope. *** Life is hard work. Life does not always go our way. Even when it does, that way isn't usually what we really wanted anyway! There's the normal hard stuff of life: work, family, friendships, health and so on. Then there's the hard stuff of following God. We are given so much goodness in the gospel: a relationship with God for starters! But also forgiveness, healing, reconciled relationships, a change and liberation of priorities, freedom and new life. All such wonderful and good things. Yet they are all a foretaste. Reconciliation doesn't always happen. We might have an interior freedom but experience hardship after hardship externally. I've been reading the diaries of Etty Hillesum who expereinced just that. She was a young Jewish woman in the 1940s. She experienced such a bliss and joy because of her faith and spirituality that found contentment even in life in a concentration camp. Yet her life ended at the tender age of 29. So much life left to live, so much potential unrealised. *** Resurrection is a reminder and encouragement that our real hope and the true fulfilment of the gospel isn't in the here and now (it begins now, but as a foretaste of what's to come). We aren't to expect ' everything will go my way ' in this life or that I should experience the perennial blessing of God in my earthly life and relationships. Following God will not be easy. The things He calls us to do may not succeed. The people we love may not love us back. The person we pray for may never come to faith. The change we want to see manifest in the world around us may not happen in this life. But resurrection says this: God has not forgotten. God sees it all. God will set right. Unjust deaths will be dealt with. Unfair hardship will be set straight. This life is not all there is. There is so much more to come, that all of this--even the heart-breaking stuff—will pale in significance in comparison. Yes, that doesn't stop it hurting in the present moment. It doesn't stop grief or stem the tide of darkness today. But it allows us to let go. Surrender. Trust. None of this has to be fixed now. We do what we can. But the outcome of it all is not one realised in this life, but the next. So take courage. There is more to come. ******
By Suse McBay June 24, 2026
Peter Murrell, a Scottish political worker and now ex-husband of Nicola Sturgeon (former SNP party leader), was this week sentenced to 5 years in prison for embezzlement. Over the years he had used party money to buy all manner of things. It began with a Play Station 3 but escalated, to buying silver wine coaster, a Jaguar, and a motor home (the list goes on and on). Now embezzlement is not new. Nor is using political office for personal gain. But what struck me were the comments from the lawyer following the sentencing: “ The accused is now an individual overwhelmed by feelings of embarrassment and shame .” Shame. We don’t know if it’s true or not, but I wonder how you respond to hearing such contrition? Responses can range from the judgemental (“ Good! He deserves it ”) to the overly sympathetic (“ Perhaps he’s learned his lesson ”). But regardless of where we individually fall on the sympathy scale, it was an interesting example of what I’ve been thinking about recently: healthy shame . Mr Murrell has undeniably done something wrong and has betrayed the office given to him. He’s estranged from his wife. He’s headed to prison. He was there to represent the people, but instead, he has preyed on the sheep (Ezek. 34:2 has things to say about this). That uncomfortable feeling of recognising where we have transgressed our limits and have become hoodwinked by our own hubris and entitlement. His inadequacies have been publicly exposed. His dirty laundry is out in public. We may be more accustomed to scandal given the internet age, so we may be desensitised to it, but I bet Peter Murrell is not. When it happens to you, it’s painful. It’s uncomfortable. It’s exposing. I’m no psychologist, so I’d recommend John Bradshaw’s book on Healing the Shame That Binds You , if you want to think more about it. Dan Allender and Tremper Longman have a good Christian reflection on different emotions in Cry of the Soul. But I’ve been noticing where healthy shame appears in Scripture. Shame crops up again and again and again. I’m still in the early stages of thinking about where it appears and why, but one clear example of where it occurs is in scenes of divine judgement, both those in the present and those yet to come. God’s People Exposed (1) Daniel 12:1-4 talks about how Jewish believers in the 2 nd century BCE would be raised. The wise and understanding ones who didn’t comply with the political schemes of Antiochus IV would be raised to shine like stars. The others? Those who had aligned themselves with the emperor and in the process forsaken their covenant loyalty to God? They would be faced with everlasting shame (and contempt). (2) Jeremiah 2 has strong words for God’s people of Israel who have got so wrapped up in themselves they have stopped seeking where God is at work and instead are playing with other idols under the illusion of thinking they’re faithful because they keep the Law. They even say they don’t run after false gods (v.23). They’ve tried to seek out gain from the political powers (v.18) rather than humbly submit themselves to God (v.20). The result? They will be put to shame by Egypt (v.36). In an eerily similar statement to the news from Scotland: “As a thief is shamed when caught, So the house of Israel shall be shamed: They, their kings, their officials, Their priests, and their prophets.” (Jer 2:26) And the same is true in the New Testament. Mark 8:38 says this: "Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels." I suspect these are words for people who don’t listen to Jesus’ words in the preceding lines: the message that to follow Jesus is to take up your cross, deny yourself. Surrender your own wants and desires. Those who, like Peter, wanted to avoid death. Avoid suffering. Avoid hardship. Those who wanted a Messiah that came on a horse not a donkey. One who wore a crown of gold, not one of thorns. ** So what a bout us? How do we avoid that fate? Well, like a bill that if you don’t pay now you’ll be paying a lot more later, we need to start facing our inner shame today. Both the healthy shame and the shame we’ve been given that doesn’t belong to us. We might take some time to pray, be still, listen. See what comes up when we think about our uncomfortable feelings that usually stay in the shadows. The great gift of shame is that it shows us our limits. Where we’ve crossed the line and harmed ourselves, others, and our relationship with God. Where we’ve tried to be more than human (or acted in fear that we’re less than human). But shame also dies on exposure. Though I’d also add that shame dies on exposure in the presence of a loving other. We find a person or a group where we can start doing the crazy thing and actually revealing our shameful selves to others. Peter Murrell is full of shame, his lawyer says. The question is: what will he do with it? Will he use this public humiliation to face himself as he is? Does he have people around him to listen to him and to help him through it? I hope so. Genuinely. I hope that for all of us. That we would have the courage to allow the One who is Light to bring light into the midst of our shame today. To bring us out of hiding. Shame is a horrible feeling: I’m not a fan. But I do know that on the other side is acceptance, serenity, and a joy that really does make it worth it. It is true freedom—and it’s only in that freedom I can become who God has made me to be. Because whatever I’ve done, however humiliating, the deepest truth of all is that I’m made in the image of God. I am loved. ****** Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

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