Indignant
1: The Way to Begin Again | Scene 6: I'm on My Own | Day 2 of 6
A man with leprosy came to him and begged him on his knees, “If you are willing, you can make me clean.” Jesus was indignant. He reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” I
Immediately the leprosy left him and he was cleansed.”
- Mark 1:40–42We are more connected than ever, but lonelier than ever. You can be surrounded by people, “liked” by hundreds or even thousands, and still feel unseen.
As we begin our next story, Jesus takes a walk. He is approached by a leper, who we can assume feels unseen. He kindly asks for healing, but Jesus’ response is curious.
Everyone else had written the man off. He was physically contagious and spiritually suspect. But he has the courage to kneel before Jesus and ask, “If you are willing…”
Most translations say Jesus was “moved with compassion.”
But some manuscripts use a different word: indignant.
Which is it? The transaltion choices seem so different. Was Jesus heartbroken or was he furious?
Maybe both.
Years ago, I was working at a church as the lead of a ministry whose primary purpose was to help communicate the gospel using images we had installed on a large screen in the sanctuary. One week, the senior pastor, Mike, wanted me to visualize a moment that had changed his life.
He had been relaxing one Sunday afternoon, flipping through the newspaper, when two images caught his eye. On one page: an ad for a luxury car. On the other: a Pulitzer Prize-winning photo of a starving child in Sudan, curled on the ground with a vulture in the background.
The photo is hard to view. In fact, its photographer took his own life four months after snapping it.
Our senior pastor shared how he was crushed by the contrast. Here he was, dreaming about German engineering while a child halfway across the world was dying. That moment shifted something in him—and it eventually shifted our church, too. In the years to come, we would partner with a village in Sudan, investing deeply in long-term relationships and care.
My team and I made a single contrasting image to capture Mike’s experience. We came to call it “the Sedan and the Sudan”.
For years, I shared the contrasting image in workshops around the United States to teach pastors the power of visual storytelling. Almost always, when I would bring up the moment and share the photo, the room would be “filled with compassion.”
But one day, I was teaching a group of African clergy. The group had come to the United States to learn about new technology, and I had been asked to lead them on the use of the screen as a preaching tool. During a workshop, I showed the image and told the story of the Sedan and the Sudan.
Something very different happened. They didn’t just feel something. They reacted. Rather than being “filled with compassion,” the group became angry—not at the photo or at me, but what the photo triggered in them. What it meant.
The group began to talk about the famine, about relief efforts and their politics, and about the role of the church in Africa to help little boys like the one in the photo. We completely left the curriculum of the day behind as I listened and learned from the twelve men in the room.
The African clergy taught me that day about the difference between being “filled with compassion” versus being “indignant.”
They weren’t moved from a distance. They were already living the story.
My previous American audiences, full of professional pastors, had been shocked by the photo, filled with concern and compassion, and motivated to help. But what they didn’t have was firsthand experience living in famine or dealing with its human suffering. They were a world away.
Most of my new African friends, on the other hand, had seen the sin and suffering up close. They were weary from the struggle. They were exhausted from fighting, talking, and praying. Their souls groaned from what they had seen.
That day, I learned a valuable lesson: Compassion cares, but indignation refuses to accept the world as it is.
When Jesus sees the leper, He’s not just moved emotionally. He is stirred at the core of His being. He sees what this man has suffered. He sees the rejection. The loneliness. The slow death of being untouched.
So, was Jesus compassionate? Sure.
Was he indignant?
You bet he was.
Jesus wasn’t satisfied with his own feelings of concern and compassion for the man with the leprous skin condition. In that moment on the road, Jesus experienced the entire biblical story in one fell swoop—a good creation, corrupted by sin, unable to heal itself, and the reason for his mission on earth.
Jesus is not okay with the condition of the world. So, He steps forward. He touches the man. And He heals him.
Do you believe there is such a thing as “righteous anger?”
It is one thing to feel compassion. But most of us don’t do something until We are indignant or sufficiently angered by the problem to do something about it.
Modern day faith can be awfully comfortable. We would do well to learn to get a little indignant at the suffering of another. In Jesus’ home, there is no such thing as untouchable. Indifference sees suffering and stays distant. Indignation sees suffering and steps in. You are not a problem to be solved. You are a person to be held. And so is everyone.
Pray
Lord, help us to not only feel compassion for those who suffer but to know the righteous indignation you have against the sin of the world that leads to suffering. Give us the courage to fight for others, the strength to get our hands dirty, and the vision to follow you to places where healing may occur. Amen.
Live It
Reaction: What is your reaction to the idea that your compassion for someone’s pain can lead to anger?
Anger? Have you ever felt anger at suffering?
Recall: Think back to a time when you felt compassion for someone or something—when your heart was moved by someone’s pain.
Response: What moved you closer? What held you back?
Where We Are: Season 1 | Scene 6 of 6 | Day 2 of 6
Next: Day Three posts Saturday, March 21, 2026
Thank you for this insight, Len. 🤯