Category: The Gospel

In recent years, Nigeria has witnessed heartbreaking stories of school children being kidnapped
from their schools and communities. We have watched parents cry before television cameras,
listened to desperate appeals for help, and seen families trapped in the agonizing uncertainty of
not knowing whether their children would ever return home.
Beyond the tragedy of the kidnappings themselves, something else often stirs public outrage. It
is the perception that those with the greatest influence, authority, and resources sometimes
appear disconnected from the pain. While families mourn and communities grieve, public life
seems to continue uninterrupted. Political activities go on, speeches are made, ceremonies are
held, and many are left wondering whether those entrusted with leadership truly understand the
depth of the suffering before them.
Perhaps what troubles us most is not merely the absence of solutions but the apparent absence
of compassion.
Human beings instinctively expect compassion from those who have the power to help. We
expect pain to provoke concern and concern to provoke action. Compassion, after all, is more
than sympathy. Sympathy acknowledges suffering; compassion responds to it. Compassion
moves.
To understand this, one only needs to imagine a deeply personal scenario. If one of my three
children were kidnapped today, I would not continue life as though nothing had happened.
Every relationship I have, every resource available to me, every connection within my reach,
every prayer I could pray, and every effort I could make would be directed toward bringing that
child home. My priorities would instantly shift because someone precious to me would be
missing.
That response would not require persuasion. It would flow naturally from love. Love produces
compassion, and compassion produces action.
This simple reality raises a profound spiritual question. If we would move heaven and earth to
rescue our own children, how does God feel about the billions of men and women who remain
outside His family?
Across the world today, countless people live without a clear knowledge of Jesus Christ. Many
have never heard the Gospel explained in a way they can understand. Entire communities exist
without a church, a missionary presence, or access to Scripture in their own language. Millions
will be born, live their lives, and die having had little or no opportunity to hear the message that
has transformed our own lives.

The tragedy is not only that they are lost. The greater tragedy may be that many of us have
become accustomed to their lostness.
We know the statistics. We attend conferences. We read reports. We hear stories of unreached
peoples and forgotten communities. Yet information does not always translate into burden. We
have become increasingly informed but not necessarily increasingly moved. We know the
numbers, but we have lost the tears.
This stands in sharp contrast to the example of Jesus.
The Gospel writers repeatedly describe a Savior who was moved by compassion. Matthew tells
us that when Jesus saw the crowds, He had compassion on them because they were harassed
and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. It is a remarkable statement because everyone
saw the same crowd, yet Jesus saw something different.
Others saw people; Jesus saw souls.
Others saw inconvenience; Jesus saw eternal need.
Others saw a gathering; Jesus saw sheep without a shepherd.
Compassion became the bridge between what Jesus saw and what Jesus did. It moved Him to
teach, to heal, to serve, to disciple, and ultimately to give His life on the Cross. The ministry of
Jesus was not driven merely by duty but by a profound love for those who were spiritually lost.
Perhaps this is why one of the most important questions facing the Church today is whether we
still see people the way Jesus saw them.
We live in a world filled with legitimate concerns. Poverty remains widespread. Wars continue to
devastate communities. Corruption undermines nations. Illiteracy limits opportunities. These
realities deserve attention and action. Yet from an eternal perspective, there is a tragedy greater
than all of them combined: a person living and dying without Christ.
A hungry person can receive food. A sick person can receive treatment. A poor person can find
economic opportunity. But a soul that enters eternity without the hope of Christ faces a loss that
cannot be reversed.
This is why what might be called “Gospel poverty” remains one of the greatest injustices in our
world. It is the reality that millions of people have little or no access to the Good News of Jesus
Christ. They are not rejecting a Gospel they have heard; many have never had a genuine
opportunity to hear it at all.
The uncomfortable question for those of us who know Christ is whether this reality still affects
us.

Do we still care about what breaks God’s heart?
Do we still feel burdened when we learn that entire peoples and communities remain beyond
the reach of the Gospel?
Do we still pray with urgency for those who have never heard?
Or have we become so preoccupied with our own pursuits that we no longer notice the spiritual
condition of the world around us?
The mission of God has always been rooted in His love for humanity. Jesus Himself declared
that He came to seek and save the lost. He did not leave the glory of heaven merely to improve
our circumstances or enhance our comfort. He came because people mattered to Him. He
came because lost people were worth pursuing.
If Christ crossed the distance from heaven to earth to seek the lost, should not the lost matter to
those who bear His name?
If Christ gave His life for the nations, should not the nations occupy a place in our prayers, our
priorities, and our resources?
Today, the need remains enormous. Thousands of people groups remain unreached. Many
languages still await Scripture translation. Vast populations continue to live with little access to a
vibrant Christian witness. The harvest remains plentiful, just as Jesus said it would be. The
challenge has never been the absence of need. The challenge has always been the willingness
of God’s people to respond.
Compassion, however, never allows us to remain passive observers. Genuine compassion
always demands a response.
For some, that response will be a renewed commitment to prayer for the unreached. For others,
it may involve participating in short-term mission efforts, supporting missionaries sacrificially,
mobilizing churches, discipling new believers, or using professional skills to advance the
Kingdom of God. Some may be called to cross cultures and nations. Others may discover that
the nations have already come to their neighborhoods, campuses, workplaces, and cities.
The specific response may differ from person to person, but indifference cannot be an option.
History reminds us that the great missionary movements of the Church were never born merely
from strategy sessions, organizational structures, or impressive plans. They emerged when men
and women encountered the heart of God and allowed His concerns to become their own.
Before Isaiah declared, “Here am I; send me,” he first stood in the presence of a holy God.
Before Paul crossed continents with the Gospel, he carried a burden for those who had not yet

heard. Before Jesus sent laborers into the harvest, He first looked upon the crowds with
compassion.
The future of God’s mission in our generation will depend on more than innovative methods or
ambitious goals. It will depend on whether God’s people once again learn to see the world
through the eyes of Christ.
The question before us is therefore both simple and searching.
Do we still possess compassion for the lost?
And if we do, what are we prepared to do about it?

By Niyi Osomo