mercy: compassion or forbearance shown especially to an offender or to one subject to one’s power.
I don’t think about mercy that much.
I like words like grace and peace and faith. I like be strong and courageous, fear not, I am with you.
But sometimes I forget that at the heart of it all there’s a man, hanging on a tree, taking the punishment I deserve.
Because that means remembering that I am an offender. I am subject to His power, and I have offended against Him.
A million times and a million times more.
And it’s easier to think about rainbows-and-unicorns Jesus instead of torn-and-beaten Jesus. It’s easier to picture little children coming to Him instead of nails being pounded into bone. It’s easier to think He has forgiven me instead of I have done much that needs forgiveness.
But I have done much that needs forgiveness. And I deserve the torn-and-beaten, the nails. I deserve cast out, ignored, punished.
Yet – He calls me by name.
Happy Friday, y’all. You know the drill – we #fmfparty on Twitter, we love and laugh, we talk about food. (all. the. dang. time. stop it with the nutella) And Lisa-Jo gives us a word and we write, for five minutes, no judgement allowed. Join in, won’t you?