4 items tagged "mercy"
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Most people have a merciless expectation of themselves; they vow never to do or say anything outrageously stupid. Most of us learn the hard way that this is absolutely impossible - at least this has always been impossible for me.
I ran into an acquaintance I had not seen for some time and after a few seconds of greetings, I asked, “Well, how’s your wife?”
“Wonderful, I suspect,” he replied softly. “She’s in heaven where she has been for six months.”
What does one do at such a moment? Suicide is an option, of course. Just drop to your knees right in front of the offended party and open your veins. Keep repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” as he watches you go on to be with his wife, where presumably you can spend eternity apologizing to her.
Or you can just add yet another memory to the ever growing file of things you’ve done to make yourself feel like a donkey. Everyone has such a list. We try to forget the list. Suppression works in spurts, but sooner or later one of these painful memories will force itself onto the screen of our mental computer, reminding us of how utterly, abysmally, unforgivably stupid we are. That one incident (and remember, there’s a file full) was sufficient to prove it.
There’s only one cure: cultivate the ability to laugh at yourself. This is the mercy of mirth. Those who do not learn to laugh at themselves are doomed to merciless self-condemnation. A sense of humor insulates us against the blows of life. And a sense of humor is not knowing what’s funny, it’s knowing what’s funny about you.
“His servants shall serve him” (Revelation 22:3)
God only knows the billions of dollars and countless kilowatts of emotional and psychological energy that have been wasted by people in search of purpose. Many plunge through relationships, jobs and avocations in a frantic madness that is both terrifying and tragic to watch.
A weekend farmer who once lived near us let his new BMW roll backward into his lake. How this happened we were never quite sure, but he swore he had backed up into the lake to get his fishing gear out of the trunk. When he got out to go around to the trunk, he accidentally left the car in reverse. At least that was his story.
What we do know is that he then backed up his new tractor to the lake in order to tow out the submerged BMW. When he got down to attach the two chain, the tractor rolled back onto the BMW, smashing the front in and driving it even further into the muddy lake bottom.
Unwilling to admit defeat, he then ran a line underneath the tractor from a winch on the the rear to the crossbeam on the barn. But the weight of the tractor, now hopelessly enmeshed in the bumper and grill of the nearly destroyed luxury car, was greater than he realized. He watched with horror as the winch inexorably cranked the line in under the tractor, pulling the barn roof into the lake on top of the two stranded vehicles.
One tends to think of the Christian life in terms of softness, of words such as love and grace and peace. Those words are real to be sure. Yet there are are other words in the walk of Christ - tough, rugged words - words that are hard to hear, hard to say and harder still to live. This part of the vocabulary of The Faith is replete with angular words, sharp words with none of the corners rounded off or sanded down.
The cross is just such a word. Pain, horrific and humiliating pain, and all the rest of the human nightmare of abandonment and betrayal are in that one word. I passed a jewelry store window in which were displayed some of the most gorgeous, bejeweled crosses I've ever seen. In the midst of them was this sign:
I have one rod and reel among my small collection that is special to me. Today I love it, but I didn’t when I first saw it. I was fishing and thought a small limb had snagged my hook. I finally pulled the “limb” free of the muck on the bottom of the lake and reeled in the nastiest rod and reel I had ever seen. I wondered if some frustrated fisherman had pitched it overboard. Whether by accident or by passionate intent, the thing had been lost to the deep. Upon dredging it up I claimed the ancient right of salvage.