Moved with Compassion
The other night, just before the weekend began in full swing, my family and I took a slow walk from the hotel. The cobblestone road curved gently along the river, the kind of path that invites conversation and quiet all at once. We followed it to a nearby park where the kids ran ahead to a statue of Mother Teresa.
They didn’t hesitate to climb on it—laughing, balancing, and playjng. I thought it was great. Mother Teresa loved children. Her whole life was poured out for the vulnerable, the overlooked, the forgotten. Letting our kids play there felt like the kind of tribute she would’ve loved best—joy and life surrounding a woman who gave hers away in service.
As we stood there, I thought about how Mother Teresa was of Albanian heritage, her family rooted not far from here. This part of the world bears her fingerprints in certain ways—kindness, resilience, honor. And this weekend, I saw those same fingerprints in others too.
Saturday evening was the women’s conference at Gjakova Family Church, and my mother-in-law, Pastor Patsy, was the guest speaker. I didn’t sit in the room to hear the message firsthand. Instead, I was downstairs, watching over seven kids—including my three—as they ran around the empty room, shared a few snacks, and occasionally needed a bit of refereeing. It was chaotic and sweet and a little sticky. And it was a privilege.
So often, women bear the weight of caring for the children while also trying to stay spiritually connected. They manage one eye on the speaker and one on their toddler. They’re praying while digging in their purse for a snack. But that time, they didn’t have to. They could sit. Listen. Receive. And I got to be part of the reason why.
Later last night, I asked Addison, my wife, about the message Pastor Patsy shared. What she told me did something in me. She spoke on the power of prayer to a faithful God. She talked about pressing beyond what we settle for—past what’s “permissible”—into God’s best and perfect will. And she spoke of having the faith of God, not just faith in Him. That kind of faith doesn’t just ask—it contends. It moves mountains. It doesn’t shrink back when the answer takes time.
That spirit—faith-filled and compassionate—is what I see in Pastor Patsy. Today is her birthday, and while many celebrate her for her leadership, I want to honor her for something deeper: the way she reflects the heart of Jesus. In the Bible, again and again, Jesus was moved with compassion. It wasn’t a passing feeling—it was His motive. Compassion drove Him to heal, to feed, to raise the dead, to weep with the grieving.
And I see that same kind of compassion in women like her. In fact, I see it in many women of faith—my mom, my sisters, intercessors at church—those who feel deeply and move quickly, not because of duty but because of love. Where I, as a man, sometimes get locked in on the task, the goal, the mission, they often notice the people or issues I might miss. They remind me that the purpose is the people. That faith isn’t just about crossing finish lines—it’s about going slowly enough to see who God puts in our path.
This weekend helped remind me of that. It reminded me that greatness in the Kingdom isn’t defined by a platform or a microphone. It’s defined by service, by faith, and by compassion.
Jesus said, “Whoever wants to be great among you must be your servant.” (Matthew 20:26)
Today, I thank God for the women who lead with love. For Pastor Patsy, who has prayed and preached and served faithfully for decades. For the moms who rock babies while praying to God. For the ones who see what others overlook. For those who are moved with compassion—and move the world with it.
