I was down near a dock on a recent evening when I had a rather unusual encounter with a great blue heron. I hadn’t seen the bird until the headlights of a golf cart illuminated it, but once I saw it, I fully expected that the bird would either take off in flight or go quickly scurrying away. Instead, the heron just sauntered along in front of the cart until it decided to reverse course, go around me, and head back down the dock to the water’s edge. I certainly enjoyed being up close to such a majestic creature, but something about it just didn’t seem right.
Living where I do, there are daily opportunities to see great blue herons out and about in their natural habitat. Yet one thing about them becomes apparent rather quickly, and that is that great blue herons (like most other wildlife) don’t like to let people get too close to them. Whereas some wildlife, such as a water moccasin, will stand their ground on occasion, the typical behavior is to flee from human contact. That doesn’t mean that they will go as far away as possible, but rather that they will quickly move to a place where they feel safer. The behavior of this particular great blue heron was unusual, since it didn’t move with a sense of urgency to find a place of safety. As a result, my first instinct was to wonder if the bird was wounded or ill. The bird ultimately moved along, so there wasn’t any sense in calling our wonderful animal rehabilitation team, but my response to this bird got me thinking.
If my first response when seeing an animal act in an unusual way is to assume that there is something wrong with it that is keeping it from acting normally, why don’t I always have the same initial reaction when I see a person acting in an unusual manner? Assuming that the rest of you are like me, why is it that we don’t automatically respond from a place of compassion when we see some other person exhibiting behavior that we know isn’t normal for them?
Unfortunately for us, unusual human behavior may manifest itself as someone making a rude comment, or lashing out at someone. We know from experience that a wounded animal can be very dangerous, but we give it grace because it is obviously wounded. However, we have gotten pretty good at hiding our wounds for the most part – at least until we burst. At that point, the wounded person has inadvertently become “dangerous”, possibly wounding someone nearby. Fortunately, that wound is typically not physical, but still our feelings get hurt, and we get offended. Yet we tend to then respond out of our pain, instead of wondering what was going on in that person’s life to cause them to act out of character. In some ways, we show more compassion for an animal than we do for another human being.
As Jesus was dying on the cross, he said to God “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). In our woundedness and brokenness, we have lashed out at others, and others, in their woundedness and brokenness, have lashed out at us. Perhaps we, like Christ, would be more forgiving if we saw first the pain and hurt in others and realized that their actions are because there is something wrong in their lives. Then perhaps, with compassion and forgiveness, we can bring about healing instead of compounding the injury.
Peace and blessings – Pastor Aaron