Erosion

     There was a phrase in a quote uttered in a meeting today, something about compassion fatigue being an erosion of …. Well, you know when you’re listening but it dawns on you too late that something profound has been said. That’s what happened but the word erosion stuck.

Erosion it’s that thing that happens when something is taken away. I seem to think that it happens slowly. The top soil eroded away by the steady impact of the rain. 

I remember one of my teammates years ago had a degree in agriculture. I remember that she said she studied things like how to plant crops to stop erosion. This was when we lived in Austria, in vineyard country. I remember her saying that vineyards are the only crops that are planted up and down the hillside. Any other plant that was cultivated this way would cause erosion. I’ve not researched this—it’s just coming to mind because of today’s use of the word. 

I’m wondering if the way we plant, the foundations of how we care are related to the outcome of compassion fatigue. Are we setting ourselves up for erosion? I don’t know. 

I do know that I need a lot of steady personal discipline and spiritual alertness to put me in a position where I can pastor--care and comfort with the compassion of Jesus—or it all seems shallow. Sometimes it can even be self serving—caring with a selfish outcome in mind. 

Maybe that’s when the erosion starts. There are good articles and long papers on compassion fatigue—one was probably being quoted in our meeting. But only one word—erosion—snagged in my heart today. 

Lord, it’s your compassion, your steady consistent love, that we want to show to the world, to our neighbours, our family. Give us hearts of flesh—that tender response to your nudges. And when we lose our sense of dependance on you, will you pour out your holy topsoil on our eroded hillside so that we can bear fruit in season and grow our capacity for love.