Compassion Over Control: Matthew 12:1-14
- Sep 7, 2025
- 6 min read
Religion or person?
If you’ll turn with me to Matthew chapter 12, we’re going to start in verse 1.
In every great story—whether it’s Lord of the Rings, your favorite book, TV show, or movie—the main character always comes to a choice. Do they hold up the rule of the status quo, or do they do what’s best for the people right in front of them in the situation of the moment?
Either hold to the rule, or serve the person.
And that’s not just the situation of our favorite protagonist—that’s our situation too. We can choose the status quo, the rule, the “with religion” life: a life that always upholds religion and the status quo at the expense of people.
That life says it’s all on our striving, our effort, our strength—that we can live the life we desire if we just try hard enough. And if you’ve lived that life, you know what it leaves you with: emptiness. It feels like running a race with no finish line. The harder you run, the harder you fight, the more it feels like it never ends.
Religion, in that sense, is so much more than an organization or institution that worships God. It’s the very heart-belief that humans can reach their way up to God through their own effort and strength.
Or we can choose the “with God” life: the life where we focus more on the will, purposes, and mission of the God we serve before we focus on the rules and the status quo.
And yes—sometimes the rules are there for a reason. Sometimes the status quo exists for a reason. But those things should never impede the life and mission God has called us to live.
Matthew 12: The collision
Matthew 12 opens with Jesus walking through grainfields on the Sabbath, and His disciples are hungry, so they start picking heads of grain and eating.The Pharisees see it and basically say, “Look—your disciples are doing what is not lawful on the Sabbath.”
And Jesus responds in a way that exposes what’s really going on.
He brings up David—how David and his companions ate the consecrated bread when they were hungry. He reminds them that priests “work” on the Sabbath in the temple and are still considered innocent. And then Jesus drops the line that hits the heart: “I desire mercy/compassion rather than sacrifice.”
In other words: you can keep your system and still miss God.
Jesus is showing us He’s not only greater than the Sabbath and greater than the temple—He has authority over them. And He’s pointing to something bigger: God is doing something new, and God’s mission has always been to reconcile heaven and earth—God and humanity, and humanity to each other.
The Sabbath was supposed to be a signpost to rest—and now rest has arrived in the person of Jesus.The temple was a signpost of God’s presence dwelling on earth with His people—and now through Jesus, God’s presence has come to dwell with us.
Then Matthew takes it even further.
Jesus goes into the synagogue, and there’s a man with a withered hand.The Pharisees ask if it’s lawful to heal on the Sabbath—not because they care, but because they want to accuse Him. And Jesus says, if you had a sheep fall into a pit on the Sabbath, you’d lift it out—so how much more valuable is a person than a sheep?
Then He tells the man, “Stretch out your hand,” and the hand is restored.And after that, the Pharisees go out and conspire against Him—how they might destroy Him.
That’s what “with religion” life does when mercy shows up. It gets threatened. It gets angry. It gets defensive.
What Jesus makes clear
God’s desire is compassion, not sacrifice. A life that, in every moment, is focused on serving those around you and making the world better—revealing to the world a better life found in Him.
Not just going through the motions. Not just having services and following rules like a checklist.
Jesus says it another way in Mark 2:27: “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” Everything God gave—His instructions, His commands—was for our benefit.
And the moment we try to use a rule to harm a brother or sister, that’s when we start creating an idol in our own image. Because now the rule isn’t serving God’s heart—the rule is serving our fear.
And let’s be honest: “with religion” life promises control. It promises safety. It promises predictability.
But real life doesn’t work like that.
I’ve seen this play out in jobs, and I’ve seen it play out in ministry. One of the clearest moments for me was riding in a car with a few exhausted guys in the Royal Pines program after driving down to Birmingham to load up donated furniture.
We worked hard for a couple hours. We were on the drive back. Five guys in the car—thirsty, exhausted. There was a rule: I can’t do for one or a few what I can’t do for all. And that makes sense.
But I knew what these guys were carrying. Some were brand new to the program. Some were in one of the hardest times of their life. Some were even considering leaving. Their family situations were chaotic. They felt hopeless—like they’d been thrown out and given up on.
So in that moment, I decided to put the people in front of me before the rule. I stopped and got them a drink. And then Circle K had a phenomenal $3 deal, so they got a hot dog too.
Was that “right” or “wrong”? You can decide.
But what I knew in that moment is that a small act of compassion can bring sunshine into a dark time. And by a simple investment, you can make an eternal impact.
That’s what Jesus is teaching here: the goal is compassion. The goal is life. The goal is restoration.
Why “with religion” isolates
Here’s the other thing “with religion” life does: it isolates us.
It’s like if Frodo told everybody, “Hey, I don’t want you coming with me. I can do it myself.” If you know the story, Frodo wouldn’t have lasted long.
But Lord of the Rings is called The Fellowship of the Ring for a reason. It’s a journey where Frodo brings friends into the chaos, into the mission, into the burden.
And so many times, “with religion” life pushes people away because people are uncontrollable. People are messy. People don’t do the right thing all the time—even if you love them.
Religion says, “Stay clean. Stay safe. Do the right thing. Keep control.”But what happens when all you do is avoid sin and try to do everything “right”? You box yourself into a corner, separated from the very people God gave you.
And that’s why loneliness is everywhere right now.
Technology isn’t the root reason—technology connects us more than ever. But we use it as a buffer. We use it as a shield. We hope it will protect us from the hurt that comes with real community.
But it doesn’t work. It isolates us. It divides us. It leaves us in a dark, lonely corner.
The “with God” life calls us into this crazy thing we call church—community, fellowship. Not because it’s perfect. Not because it’s easy. But because this is how God made us.
Doing life with God means doing life with one another. There is no Christianity you do by yourself.
And yes, community is messy. It’s disagreements. Misunderstandings. Bitterness sometimes. Anger sometimes. But when we keep pursuing life together, we find blessing and fulfillment that isolation can’t give.
This week: the “withered hand scan”
If you haven’t listened to anything else, listen to this.
This week, do a “withered hand scan.”
Here’s what that means: pray every morning, “God, reveal to me the opportunities You’re giving me today to serve someone around me.” The opportunity is always there.
At the grocery store. In line at a fast food restaurant. Out in the park.
You’re not looking for someone with a literal shriveled hand. You’re scanning for small needs, quiet hurt, and moments where kindness can become healing.
See a mom or dad who looks overwhelmed? Give them a smile and tell them they’re doing a great job.
Somebody behind you has a few items? Tell them, “Go ahead—I’ve got you.”
If you feel comfortable, take it one step further: “I just want you to know you’re loved, and God loves you today.” If that feels like too much, start simple—be kind.
And what you’ll find is this: those moments that used to feel boring and mundane start becoming opportunities. Ordinary places become places where you get to make a difference.
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