“And there followed him a great company of people, and of women,
which also bewailed and lamented him.”
(Luke 23:27)
Crowds always seemed to gather around the Lord. Many would press in, hoping to witness His next miracle firsthand. The Pharisees and other religious leaders were always present in the crowd, hungry to catch Him in an act that they could twist into a “conviction.” And, of course, His true followers who believed He was who He said He was were never far from His side. It follows, then, that for the duration of His passion Christ was surrounded by the same collection of people – those who were curious, those who were devious, and those who truly loved Him and believed in Him. So following His conviction and sentencing before Pilate, this same crowd followed Him down the path to Calvary.
It is no wonder that the wretched sight of a broken, bruised, and bleeding Christ fainting under the weight of a rugged cross drew a swell of pity, accompanied with tears and wailings, from those among the crowd who loved Him. But what may have stunned the curious onlookers among them was His response to their cries, though weak and faint: “Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children” (Luke 23:28).
Some theologians have suggested that the sorrow of Christ’s passion was surpassed only by the sorrow of His compassion, especially when it encompasses the love shared between the Savior and His mother and closest friends. Here we see just how infinitely Christ’s divine love triumphs over His grief. In the midst of incomparable misery He extends mercy. The warm light of His compassion breaks through the cold, bleak darkness of His excruciating pain when in the midst of the outrageous rantings of blasphemies and mockeries of the crowd, He hears those who love Him behind Him weeping. And despite all His own sufferings, He still comforts them, “Weep not for me.”
Such is His patience amid all His tortures that it tortures His tormentors. Such is His love amid all His pain that it comforts His comforters. For He has more compassion on the women that follow Him weeping than on His own mangled body that reels under the weight of the cross and faints while He bleeds out His life to the point of death. He feels the tears that drop from their eyes more than the blood lost from His own veins. He does not offer to placate Pilate’s demands nor Herod’s requests (John 19:10, Luke 23:8-9), but how graciously He turns His kind, bleeding face to the weeping women whom He loves, offering words of compassion and consolation.[1]
In the garden, He wept over Jerusalem’s fate (Luke 19:41); at Lazarus’ tomb, He shed tears for human sorrow (John 11:35). Here, on the via dolorosa, His focus remains outward, comforting the afflicted while enduring unparalleled torment. This exemplifies the love that lays down life for friends (John 15:13) and extends mercy to the mourning.
And today this same passionate compassion stands ready to comfort and console your pain and mine. He sees our tears; He hears our groans and wailings. He knows what it is to hurt, and as our Mediator, He feels our pain alongside us. As Hebrews 4:15 affirms, “For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities.” Christ suffers with His people. He feels our weaknesses because He willingly took on all the inadequacies of humanity when He became man Himself (2 Corinthians 13:4). But what a blessing it is that He’s also capable of healing and restoring because of the power of His resurrection.
For believers today, this scene offers profound assurance. As our High Priest, Christ sympathizes intimately with our weaknesses, having been tempted in all points yet without sin (Hebrews 4:15). And His resurrection empowers Him to heal what He feels, turning sorrow to joy, weakness to strength. Thanks be to God for such a Savior, whose empathy heals and whose power restores.
Contemplations:
- Weeping for sin. Your compassion caused you to weep at Lazarus’ tomb and over Jerusalem (Luke 19:41). Stir deep repentance within me, Lord, letting me weep over sins that caused Your suffering, knowing You died for enemies like me.
- Broken heart sacrifice. A broken heart you will not despise (Psalm 51:17). And yet I find my heart often resisting remorse and repentance. Strike it with true contrition, that repentance’s waters flow. And let Your love’s fire accept my tear-soaked sacrifice, turning my tears into joy (1 Kings 18).
- Compassion in pain. In the middle of Your own torment, Lord, You comforted weeping women, feeling their tears more than Your pain. In contrast, I typically ignore the pain of others while focusing selfishly on my own. Teach me to be empathic like You, turning my personal grief to mercy for the afflicted.
- Sympathizing mediator. As our high priest touched by our infirmities (Hebrews 4:15), You suffer with us. I often doubt Your care in trials, Lord. Forgive my unbelief and let me rest in Your resurrection power, healing and restoring me through Your passionate compassion.
Prayer (thanksgiving)
O compassionate God, You are the Father of mercies, whose love knows no bounds. I give You thanks for the tender heart of Your Son, Jesus Christ, who in the midst of His passion turned to comfort the weeping women of Jerusalem. Luke 23:27 captures the crowd’s lament, yet His words redirect their grief, revealing a love surpassing personal agony. I praise You for this divine empathy, feeling tears more than His pain, consoling others along His path to crucifixion.
I thank You for Christ’s tears at Lazarus’ tomb and over Jerusalem (Luke 19:41), demonstrating His sorrow for human suffering. Your compassion triumphs over grief, extending Your mercy in our misery. I bless you for His silence before Pilate and Herod (John 19:10; Luke 23:8-9), as well as His gracious words to His mourners, “Weep not for me.” This selective kindness shows Your sovereign love that’s responsive when hearts are sincere.
Lord, I am grateful for our Mediator who sympathizes with our weaknesses (Hebrews 4:15). He feels our pain, having taken on Himself humanity’s limitations (2 Corinthians 13:4). Thank You for resurrection power that is more than sufficient to heal, turning our sorrow to joy and our weakness to strength.
I praise You for divine love that laid down life for friends (John 15:13). As our High Priest, Christ intercedes for His people intimately, and His empathy is boundless. Thank You for the assurance that in our trials He bears our burdens alongside us, just as Galatians 6:2 commands.
Your mercy in passion’s darkness breaks through like a warm light on our cold pain. I thank You for turning rantings and mockeries to opportunities for consolation. His outward focus on others’ sorrow models the selfless love I aspire to.
I am thankful that Christ’s compassion surpassed His passion, especially toward His own mother and friends. Divine love always triumphs, as Your plan uses suffering to reveal character and to draw us closer.
Christ’s words invite me to shift from pity of my temporal struggles to eternal realities. I praise You for this invitation to transform earthly grief to godly sorrow and, ultimately, heavenly joy.
Christ’s example also inspires His people to bear each other’s burdens amid their own pain, and Your Spirit empowers us to turn personal trials to outflows of Your mercy.
I bless You for victory that even in tribulation we can have cheer because Christ overcame the world, assuring our overcoming through Him. Thank You for this hope, Father, that one day there will be no more tears, for the former things will have passed (Revelation 21:4).
Eternal thanks for my Savior whose empathy heals and whose power restores. Thanks be to God for such an unspeakable gift!
In Jesus’ name I pray, Amen.
Further Scripture references for Luke 23:27
Luke 8:52, 23:55, Matthew 11:17, 27:55.
[1] “The clemency and compassionate mercy of God is the cause of an ingenuous filial Fear, mixed with love and affiance in the breasts of men.” William Bates, Sermons upon Psalm CXXX, Ver. 4 (London: J.D. for Brabazon Aylmer, 1696), 2.
