Do I Prefer Mercy?

Time and chance happen to us all. So do dead engines.

Friday afternoon I concluded that I would be able to pay for the new truck engine and still pay the rest of my bills. It was with a certain amount of regret, however, that I closed the covers of a catalog that contained a rather outrageous-looking pair of red “provincial print pants.” Saying, as I did so, “Lord, I’d like them, but if You want me to have them, You’ll have to give them to me somehow. Otherwise I’ll forget about them.”

And then I got home from work last night and found a check in my mailbox.

Amazing, yes?

So why wasn’t I tickled pink?

Today I was looking for a certain parable, but I never made it there, because I got stuck on something Jesus said to the Pharisees. “…I prefer mercy over sacrifice…”

Doubtless there are a million different and wonderful truths we could pull out of such a simple statement, but it can’t be overlooked that God would rather show us mercy than have us make sacrifices. No problem, we say, I’ll just receive God’s mercy.

Except . . .

Except when it comes right down to it, in practice, we seldom do.

I could feel it in myself, when I read that verse, and that was why I stopped there.

I will be able to pay my bills. I don’t need that check that showed up in my mailbox. So I don’t really like getting it. It’s like mercy. I’m willing to receive it when it’s the only thing keeping me alive. I resist it, when it’s not essential.

Why? Because receiving that gift feels very much like giving it to myself.

Had there been a pair of provincial print pants in my mailbox, I would not have hesitated to wear them. But it was money in my mailbox. And I have to decide whether to give myself a gift, or not.

If I’m to really receive God’s mercy, what I in fact must do is accept God’s mercy and give it to me. That means I have to be convinced that it’s alright for me to show mercy. Even to me. Even when I could survive without it.

What I saw, as I read that verse, is that I really don’t approve of mercy. I don’t approve of freely spending money that I didn’t earn with my own sweat and labor. I don’t approve of overlooking something I’ve done wrong. I believe that I should feel guilt and shame for days, or, at the very least, for hours.

The problem is that my sense of justice says, “If it isn’t okay for me to give mercy to me, then why should I give it to anyone else?” And since the other part of mercy is giving it to others, that’s a serious problem.

A problem I do, indeed, intend to have fixed.

So…the next time you see me, I may be wearing red provincial print pants.

Thank you!

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