Jet Mariano

Tag: Compassion

  • MIT8 – Enoch and Empathy

    I was reminded of that truth while camping in Monument Valley, waiting patiently in the quiet hours before dawn. I stayed awake at the cabin, watching the sky, trusting that light would come in its own time. When the waning gibbous moon finally rose, it crowned the stone buttes with a soft, steady glow. And then—unexpectedly—I was rewarded with a distant lightning show on the horizon. Stillness and power shared the same sky. Waiting revealed what haste would have missed.

    Excerpt

    God’s empathy is not a weakness to be restrained. It is the very source of His justice.

    Intro

    In recent years, empathy has come under suspicion. Some Christian thinkers have warned that it can become excessive or misplaced, even harmful. While acknowledging compassion as a Christlike trait, they caution that emotional identification—if left unchecked—might blur moral clarity or weaken obedience to God.

    That concern, however, finds no support in scripture.

    Notes from the Moment

    In Moses 7, Enoch is shown a vision of the future. His city has been taken into heaven. Other righteous souls dwell with God. Those left behind are marked by violence and cruelty. As Enoch observes God watching this scene, he expects detachment—or perhaps righteous anger.

    Instead, he sees something that unsettles him deeply: God weeping.

    “How is it that thou canst weep,” Enoch asks, “seeing thou art holy, and from all eternity to all eternity?” (Moses 7:29). To Enoch, holiness and empathy seemed incompatible.

    God then explains:

    “Behold these thy brethren; they are the workmanship of mine own hands, and I gave unto them their knowledge, in the day I created them; and in the Garden of Eden, gave I unto man his agency;”

    Moses 7:32–34, 40

    Here, there is no effort to dilute empathy in the name of justice. God does not administer justice despite His compassion—He administers it because of it.

    Perspective

    As Enoch begins to understand the depth of God’s love, his own heart expands beyond anything he had known. He “wept and stretched forth his arms, and his heart swelled wide as eternity; and his bowels yearned; and all eternity shook” (Moses 7:41).

    Divine empathy is contagious.

    Practice

    A similar pattern appears after the Savior’s death, when darkness covered the land in the Americas. The people heard His voice explaining the destructions that had taken place. These were not acts of emotional detachment, but of mercy—meant to prevent further suffering. Repeatedly, He gives the same reason:

    “That the blood of the prophets and the saints shall not come any more unto me against them”
    (3 Nephi 9:5, 7–9, 11)

    Justice, once again, is rooted in empathy.

    President Dallin H. Oaks—having spent years studying and administering law—has reflected deeply on the relationship between love and commandment. In a worldwide devotional, he shared how his thinking has matured over time:

    “I have previously referred to our ‘continually [trying] to balance the dual commandments of love and law,’ but I now believe that goal to be better expressed as trying to live both of these commandments in a more complete way. …”

    “Stand for Truth,” Worldwide Devotional Address for Young Adults, 21 May 2023

    Final Reflection

    If God loves all His children with perfect love, then loving them cannot compete with loving Him. When compassion seeks their eternal good, it is aligned with holiness—not opposed to it.

    The scriptures do not portray empathy as a liability. They reveal it as divine.

    Pocket I’m Keeping

    Compassion and holiness are not rivals. In God, they are one.

    What I Hear Now

    “God’s justice flows from His love.”
    “Empathy does not weaken truth.”
    “Holiness can weep.”

    © 2012–2026 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
    For usage terms, please see the Legal Disclaimer.

  • That’s You and That’s Me

    Two open hands—one giving, one receiving. Some needs are plain to see; others we carry quietly. That’s you and that’s me.

    Intro
    Some needs are easy to spot—a hand outstretched at a corner, a face weeping in public. Others ride quietly under the surface: worry that doesn’t show, loneliness with a practiced smile, a “load” carried where no one can see. This week I kept thinking about both kinds—the visible and the hidden—and how the Lord is the One who sees them all. The photo below is the obvious kind. But I’m learning to look for the quiet kind too, including in my own life. “No one makes it all alone… we all rely on help from Home.”

    That’s You and That’s Me — Seminary album Free to Choose (1987)

    Some reach out with their hands,
    Some reach out with their eyes,
    And most try hard not to let it show,
    But it’s a thin disguise.

    Some needs can be hidden;
    Some are plain to see.
    No one makes it all alone—
    We all rely on help from Home
    To get us back to where we want to be.

    And that’s you and that’s me,
    Living off His goodness
    And learning how to be.

    And that’s you and that’s me;
    I want to be ever you—like He’s ever you and me.

    Sometimes I can’t hide it;
    Sometimes I just want to cry:
    “I need someone to share my load,”
    When no one’s on my side.

    That’s when I remember:
    You have days like these.
    No one makes it alone—
    We all rely on help from Home
    To get us back to where we want to be.

    And that’s you and that’s me,
    Living off His goodness
    And learning how to be.
    That’s you and that’s me—
    I want to be ever you, like He’s ever you and me;
    And He gives so freely and shows us how to care.

    And that’s you and that’s me,
    Living off His goodness
    And learning how to be.

    Final reflection
    The song names what discipleship looks like in real time: noticing. Some needs are loud; some are quiet. Christ meets both, and He invites us to do the same—“living of His goodness and learning how to be.” Sometimes that means coins in a palm. Sometimes it’s a steady text, a prayer in someone’s name, a ride, a listening ear, or a temple visit offered for a friend. And when the load is ours, we remember we also “rely on help from Home.” Seen or unseen, He sees—and He sends us to see.

    © 2012–2025 Jet Mariano. All rights reserved.
    For usage terms, please see the Legal Disclaimer.

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