First Baptist Church Litchfield
December 14, 2025

      • Isaiah 55:12ESV

  • Joy To The World
  • Joyful Joyful We Adore Thee (Ode To Joy)
  • Angels We Have Heard On High (Gloria)

      • Romans 12:12ESV

  • I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day

  • The Promise of a Compassionate King

    Advent is the season when the church has the opportunity to slow down, quiet her heart, and remember that God kept His promise to send a Messiah into this dark and groaning world. Isaiah called Him “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isa. 9:6). Micah said He would be born in Bethlehem, a Shepherd-King who would “stand and shepherd His flock in the strength of the LORD” (Mic. 5:2–4). The prophets promised a Messiah who would heal the broken, comfort the grieving, and feed the hungry with the abundance of God’s redeeming love.
    And when Jesus stepped into the world at His first advent, He was not aloof or distant to the broken. He came near. He touched lepers. He welcomed sinners. He wept with the grieving. He restored the broken. He revealed Himself as a Compassionate Messiah King.
    Matthew 14 gives us a beautiful portrait of His compassion. In our text, Jesus has just received the heartbreaking news of John the Baptist’s execution. He withdraws to a desolate place to be alone, but when He lifts His eyes, He sees a crowd of needy, wounded, hungry people. Matthew tells us:
    “He had compassion on them and healed their sick.” (Matt. 14:14)
    Beloved, this is the heart of Advent: The Messiah has come, and He brought compassion with Him. He came to heal your wounds, feed your soul, and satisfy your deepest hunger. In other words,

    Jesus’ compassion moves toward his people revealing His Kingdom, Our Need, and His Sufficiency.

    Let’s dive into our text this morning by first seeing Jesus’ compassionate heart moving him toward the broken.

    The Compassionate Heart of the Messiah Moves Toward His Hurting People (Matthew 14:13-14)

    In verse 13, Jesus received the news of John’s death. He withdraws to a quiet place—to pray, to mourn, to commune with His Father. Yet the crowds, desperate and determined, follow Him on foot. And when Jesus steps out of the boat and looks upon them—sick, weary, anxious, hungry—He is not irritated, not inconvenienced, not frustrated by their intrusion into His sorrow-he is deeply moved, so much so he feels the need to act.
    When Jesus looked upon His hurting people, His heart was compelled with compassion to move toward his people.
    Matthew uses the strong and deeply emotional Greek verb splagchnizomai—a word that describes a stirring in the deepest part of one’s being, the kind of compassion you feel in your gut. It is a mercy that aches. A sorrow that turns outward in love. A holy blend of grief and righteous anger toward everything that harms God’s people.
    What it is not is detached pity or polite sympathy. This is the Messiah emotionally and covenantally bound to the misery of His people.
    He sees their plight clearly. He feels the weight of their vulnerability—diseases they cannot cure, fears they cannot shake, emotional wounds they cannot mend.
    In Matthew’s earlier description (9:36), Jesus looked upon these same people with the same eyes of compassion, and saw sheep without a shepherd—wandering through a wilderness with no one to lead them to green pastures or quiet waters, no one to guide them in paths of righteousness, no one to steady them with rod and staff when they walk through the valley of the shadow of death (Psalm 23:1-4).
    There was no shepherd to spread a table before them, no guardian to protect them, no healer to restore them, no one to secure the goodness and mercy that ought to follow them all their days (Psalm 23:5-6). Instead, they were aimless, exposed, spiritually malnourished, and prey to every fear and futility of a fallen world.
    And when Jesus sees them like this, His compassion moves Him. It draws Him toward them. It compels Him to do something about it. So, he heals their sick, tends their wounds, and speaks rest over their restless souls.
    Matthew wants us to see that Jesus’s compassion recognized what His people needed most—Him. His presence. His healing. His rest. His leadership. His love.
    A few years ago, I read a book by a man who spent a year living among the Bedouin (from the Arabic , meaning 'desert dweller' or 'nomad') people. He noted that when a sheep wanders off, it doesn’t usually find its way back. It lies down—panicked, helpless, exhausted. And when the shepherd finally sees that sheep, something happens in him that is pastoral. Compassion rises. He doesn’t shout instructions from a distance—he draws near.
    He picks up the trembling animal. He lifts it onto his shoulders. He carries it home.
    You don’t rescue sheep with lectures. You rescue sheep with your presence in the moment of their panic.
    This is what Jesus is doing in Matthew 14. He sees a whole crowd of lost sheep—worn down, weighed down, wandering. And His compassion doesn’t analyze them—it moves Him toward them. Brothers and sisters, as it is with Jesus, so our Spirit-infused compassion should compel us toward the poor, the addicted, the broken, and the unchurched.
    God willing, our ministry should flow not from cold duty, but from a heart that aches for our hurting neighbors. Jesus did not look at the crowd and sigh, “Well, I suppose I must heal and feed you—this is what My Father requires.” No, He looked upon them with compassion, and that compassion moved Him toward them. His love, not obligation, compelled His ministry—and so should ours.

    What does Jesus’ compassion reveal?

    The Compassion of Jesus Reveals His Kingdom (v14)

    Matthew tells us in 14:14, that when Jesus saw the crowd, “He had compassion on them and He healed their sick.” The phrase—He healed their sick—is far more than an act of kindness. It is a declaration of His identity. It is the unveiling of the Messiah foretold by the prophets. It is Isaiah 35 breaking into that present moment.
    Isaiah 35 is one of the most breathtaking visions in all of Scripture. It describes the day when God’s people finally come home—when exiles return with singing, when sorrow fades, and when the Kingdom of God overtakes the wilderness of this world. Isaiah pictures a renewed creation bursting with life where deserts bloom, weakness is strengthened, fear is cast out, and the glory of the Lord radiates everywhere His people go.
    And in the center of this messianic prophecy is the unmistakable sign that the King has come, and He is bringing His kingdom. Isaiah says,
    “Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped.” (Isa. 35:5)
    These are not random miracles—these are messianic signs given for us to recognize Jesus is the promised Messiah King.
    When Jesus heals the blind, He is declaring, “I am the Son of David. I am the King you have waited for.” When He heals the deaf, He is proclaiming, “The kingdom Isaiah promised is breaking into the world through Me.” When Jesus heals the lame and releases the tongue of the mute, He is not merely relieving suffering—He is fulfilling prophecy. He is reversing the curse. He is inaugurating the Kingdom of God.
    When Jesus acts from his compassion in Matthew 14, He signals to Israel—and to us— that the Messiah King has come to shine his light into their darkness, to restore His people and renew His world.
    Imagine you are in a Christmas Hallmark movie. You are standing with all the townspeople. The camera zooms in to a small town waiting for Christmas in the dead of winter. Every year, on the first Sunday of Advent, the townspeople gather in the center square for what they call The Lighting of the Green. All around them is darkness—trees bare, fields frozen, breath visible in the cold. But the moment the mayor flips the switch, lights race up every tree, bulbs sparkle across the rooftops, and the entire square bursts into life.
    The darkness isn’t gone—but suddenly the light has broken into it.
    Now picture that scene through the eyes of a child who has been waiting all year for this moment. She stands there in her winter coat, staring wide-eyed as the lights come on. In an instant, what was bleak becomes beautiful, what was cold becomes warm, what was silent becomes full of joy. The whole town starts to sing, definitely a Hallmark Movie.
    That is what the first Advent was like. Israel had been walking in darkness—blind, deaf, lame, spiritually weary. Their world felt like a winter that would never end. But when Jesus stepped onto the scene and “had compassion on them and healed their sick” (Matt. 14:14), it was as if the lights came on! Isaiah 35 predicted this very moment.
    Jesus’s healing the broken and the sick were like turning on the lights of the Kingdom. He was lighting up a world buried under the long winter of sin and suffering. He was showing Israel—and us—what happens when the King arrives: The wilderness blooms. The weary are strengthened. The sick are healed. The broken begin to sing again. The soul comes to life to see and savor the King.
    And just like that little girl watching the lights race up the trees, the crowds in Matthew 14 watched Jesus touch their wounds, open their eyes, and restore their hope. The long night was ending. Dawn had arrived.
    That’s what Advent reminds us of every year:
    Our compassion Christ has come, the lights are on, and the world will never be the same. Our Hope springs eternal!
    Secondly, the compassion of Jesus reveals not only his kingdom, but our need and displays His sufficiency to satisfy our hunger.

    The Compassion of Jesus Reveals Our Need and Displays His Sufficiency (Matthew 14:15-21)

    Verses 15-21, reveals our need and Jesus’ sufficiency in layers; verses 15-17, reveal our need, while verses 18-21 reveals Jesus’ sufficiency.

    The Disciples Rightful Concern Reveals our Depth of Need (v15)

    Matthew writes,
    “Now when it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, ‘This is a desolate place, and the day is now over; send the crowds away to go into the villages and buy food for themselves.’” (Matt. 14:15)
    The disciples are a practical group of men. The evening shadows are settling in, stomachs are growling, and the crowd is stranded in a barren wilderness. Their concern is legitimate. In their eyes, the situation has moved past ministry opportunity and turned into a humanitarian crisis.
    You can feel the urgency. They don’t have enough money. They don’t have enough food. They don’t have enough strength. They don’t have enough time.
    This is the moment where limitations feel like walls closing in—something every believer understands. You’ve been there, haven’t you? The moment when:
    The ministry need is bigger than your gifts.
    The financial burden is heavier than your resources.
    The emotional load is heavier than your heart.
    The disciples' concern reminds us: we come to the end of ourselves quickly.
    And that’s the point. Throughout Scripture, God often brings His people into the wilderness to teach them dependence (Deut. 8:2-3). He brings us to the end of ourselves to reveal we how much we need Him. Before the Messiah feeds the hungry crowd, He exposes the need of His disciples.

    Jesus’ staggering Command Confronts Our Inability (v16)

    Instead of dismissing the crowd, Jesus responds:
    “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” (Matt. 14:16)
    This is stunning. Jesus takes the disciples' rightful concern and responds with what seems to be an unreasonable command.
    Imagine Peter staring at Jesus with exhausted eyes saying, “Lord… we don’t have the resources for this.” And Jesus saying back, “Exactly.”
    Beloved, You may be tempted to think Jesus is being sarcastic or cruel, but in fact He is being kind. He is leading His disciples into the very place where their insufficiency collides with His limitless power.
    This is how the Lord works again and again:
    He tells Moses to part a sea he cannot part (Ex. 14).
    He tells Joshua to conquer walls he cannot knock down (Josh. 6).
    He tells Gideon to overcome an army he cannot defeat (Judges 7).
    He tells twelve exhausted men to feed thousands they cannot feed (Matt. 14).
    He tells First Baptist Church Litchfield to build a school they cannot build.
    Why?
    “So that we learn to measure our obedience not by our ability, but by His sufficiency.”
    Jesus’ command to feed the people is not about bread—it's about trust. He is drawing their eyes off of themselves and fixing them onto the King who can.
    As a father, when my kids were little, I sometimes asked them to help me lift things they obviously could not carry on their own. A toolbox… a mower… bags of mulch. At the time they think, “he needs my help.” But all along I want them to realize something—I didn’t need their strength. I wanted them to feel my strength supporting what they could not carry. That’s what Jesus is doing with His disciples. That’s what Jesus does with you. That is what He is doing with our church. He strengthens and supports us when we know we are not able to do what he calls us to do.

    The Disciples Helpless Insufficiency Brings Us to the End of Ourselves (v17)

    The disciples confess:
    “We have only five loaves here and two fish.” (Matt. 14:17)
    This boils downs to five biscuits and two sardines. This meal may have fed a small family at best; definitely not five thousand plus people.
    This is the moment the disciples admit, “Lord, we don’t have what it takes.”
    In my twenty-five years of ministry, one thing I am learning everyday is that I do not have what it takes. I never have had it, and on my own, I will not have it. Jesus has been teaching me—and teaching us as His church—the very lesson He pressed upon His disciples in this passage:

    Grace begins where you come to the end of yourself.

    Scripture consistently reveals our insufficiency:

    We are insufficient to save ourselves (Eph. 2:1).
    We are insufficient to sanctify ourselves (John 15:5).
    We are insufficient to sustain our own ministry (2 Cor. 3:5).
    To truly experience the compassion of the king and to know his grace, you must come to the end of yourself. For when you come to an end of yourself, you realize Christ is supremely sufficient:
    A Sufficient sacrifice (Heb. 10:12)
    A Sufficient righteousness (2 Cor. 5:21)
    A Sufficient grace (2 Cor. 12:9)
    A Sufficient provision (Phil. 4:19)
    His grace is sufficient for you when you confess your insufficiency to Him.
    Matthew has shown us our need. Now we turn to see that Jesus’ compassionate grace is abundantly more than than capable of meeting our need.

    Jesus Uses Our Small Offering to Display His Great Power (v18)

    Once the disciples confess their inadequacy—“We have only five loaves and two fish”—Jesus responds with one of the most tender and instructive commands in all of Scripture:
    “Bring them here to Me.”
    He does not shame them for having so little. He does not demand that they go find more. He does not tell them to fix the problem before coming to Him.
    He simply says, “Bring Me what you have.”
    This is the heart of our Savior. He knows the bread won’t stretch. He knows their hands are limited.
    And yet He says: “Bring it anyway.”
    Matthew slows the moment down—almost like a camera zooming in on the hands of Jesus. The feeding of the 5,000 people is layered with many levels of truth. Jesus is not merely performing a miracle; He is hosting a meal. He is acting like the Messianic King who spreads a table for His people.

    Jesus Prepares a Feast That Reveals His New Kingdom (v19)

    Jesus Has the Crowd Recline as Guests at His Table (v19)

    When Jesus instructs the crowd to sit down on the green grass, He is doing more than organizing them for distribution. In the first century, guests reclined at a meal. They sat to receive hospitality. They sat because someone else was going to provide. Matthew wants us to see: this is a royal banquet in the wilderness.
    And for those with ears to hear, it echoes the promise of the prophets:
    “On this mountain the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food…” (Isaiah 25:6)
    It hints at Jesus’ words:
    “I tell you, many will come from east and west and recline at table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 8:11)
    And it whispers forward to the wedding feast of the Lamb:
    “Blessed are those invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” (Revelation 19:9)
    On this hillside, in the middle of nowhere, Jesus is giving the world a preview of His kingdom to come. How will he satisfy his people’s hunger? He will multiply the bread. How will He satisfy His peoples spiritual hunger? With Himself, manna, bread from heaven.

    Jesus is The True Bread From Heaven (Exodus 16)

    In Exodus 16, Israel wandered through a desolate wilderness—hungry, anxious, helpless. God sent manna—bread from heaven—enough for each day, enough for each soul.
    Here in Matthew 14: The setting is desolate. The people are hungry. A compassionate mediator stands before them.
    Jesus is showing us that He Himself is the true manna (cf. John 6:32–35)—the bread that comes down from heaven to give eternal life to the world.
    His sacrificial body. At the cross, His broken body becomes the true bread of life (John 6:35). How will he feed his people? The bread from heaven will have to be broken for them.

    Jesus’ Cross Overshadows The Table.

    Matthew is careful to record four actions:
    He took… He blessed… He broke… He gave…
    These verbs intentionally echo His body broken for us. Because Matthew uses the exact same four verbs again at a different meal—the Last Supper:
    “Now as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to the disciples…” (Matthew 26:26)
    Same pattern. Same verbs. Same Christ. But two very different meals.
    At the feeding, Jesus breaks bread to fill their stomachs. At the cross, Jesus breaks Himself to fill their souls. The Communion table reminds us that Jesus gave His life so that we may have eternal joy. The wilderness feast is meant to awaken hunger for the greater feast—the feast secured by His broken body and shed blood.

    Every Time We Come to the Lord’s Table, These Verbs Preach the Gospel

    Those same four actions frame the story of our salvation.

    He Takes Us in Love

    Before we chose Him, He chose us (John 15:16). He takes hold of ruined sinners and makes us His own.

    He Blesses Us in Grace

    We who deserve wrath receive mercy instead (Ephesians 2:4–7). Christ speaks the blessing of forgiveness over our lives.

    He Breaks Himself for Us

    At the cross, His body is broken in our place (Isaiah 53:5). The judgment that should have crushed us fell on Him.

    He Gives Himself to Us

    He is the Bread of Life, given freely so that all who come to Him will never perish (John 6:51).
    This is why the Lord’s Supper is never merely a ritual. It is a reminder of the gospel story displayed in the hands of Jesus:
    Taken by sovereign love. Blessed by undeserved grace. Saved through His broken body. Nourished by His continual giving.
    Over the years of my life, I have come to appreciate Charles Spurgeon’s heart when he speaks of communion. He says,
    794I love to come every Lord’s day to the communion table… I need to be reminded, forcibly reminded, of my dear Lord and Master very often… There is no teaching anywhere like it. Has it lost its freshness? Oh, dear no!—39.220; 44.537
    Charles Spurgeon

    Jesus Provides Abundantly to Show That His Grace Is More Than Enough (v20)

    Jesus displays his glorious power. He prays to the Father, blesses the food, and then he distributes it to his guests. There are 5,000 men plus their wives and children. Some estimate there were over 20,000 people on that hillside. The baskets kept passing along, never emptying. There was so much food that Matthew says, “20 And they all ate and were satisfied. And they took up twelve baskets full of the broken pieces left over.” It was more than enough.
    Surely the crowd was astonished, but they could’ve been tempted to think Jesus is a prophet like Elisha because performed a similar miracle.
    In 2 Kings 4, a man brings a small offering of barley bread to the prophet Elisha. Elisha says, “Give it to the men, that they may eat.” His servant objects—“How can I set this before a hundred men?” But God multiplies the bread, and they eat and have leftovers.
    Now Jesus stands before five thousand men, plus women and children. He does not simply match Elisha—He far surpasses him.
    Where Elisha fed a hundred, Jesus feeds thousands. Where Elisha barely had leftovers, Jesus fills twelve baskets.

    How should you respond to Jesus?

    Bring what you have, even if it feels like nothing.

    Like the disciples, you will often say, “Lord, I have only…” “I have only a small amount of faith.” “I have only little emotional strength left.” “I have only five loaves and two fish.” Jesus delights to use small things placed in His hands.
    Faith is not about quantity—it is about surrender. When Christ takes what you give, He blesses it, multiplies it, and feeds others through it. Jesus delights to use what little you have to offer, so bring everything to the Lord. Trust that your poverty is prosperity in His hands.

    Hope in the Second Advent—All Healed, All Satisfied

    As Advent reminds us of Jesus’ first coming, it also points our eyes to His second coming. In the kingdom He will bring:

    Every broken disciple will be healed.

    No sickness. No grief. No cancer. No anxiety. “For He will wipe away every tear from their eyes” (Rev. 21:4).

    Every hunger will be satisfied.

    No longing left unmet. No soul left empty. “In Your presence is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore” (Ps. 16:11).

    Every wilderness will become a banquet hall.

    Just as Jesus fed the hungry in the desolate place, He will feed His church at the marriage supper of the Lamb (Rev. 19:6–9).
    Beloved, the miracle on that hillside is a preview of the world Jesus is bringing—a world where the Compassionate King heals every wound and satisfies every hunger forever.
    So come to Him today—broken, hungry, sinful, weary—and receive the compassion of the Messiah King.
    He has come. He is coming again. And until then, He invites you to His table, where the broken are healed and the hungry are fed.
    Amen.

      • Matthew 14:13–21ESV

      • Exodus 16ESV

      • 1 Peter 1:8–9ESV

  • What Child Is This (Greensleeves)
First Baptist Church Litchfield
pastorjason.fbcl@gmail.com
217-324-4232
http://www.firstbaptistlitchfield.org/
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