Mercy in the Middle
Well, how-do, friend? It’s plum wonderful to have you stoppin’ in today. Come on and pull yourself right up on this ol’ front porch like you just spotted a squirrel tryin’ to drag a whole corncob up a tree and decided you needed to witness how that drama ends standin’ at the rails over there real close up and personal. So, git yourself settled in real good now while the breeze scoots across the yard and a lil’ ol’ grasshopper leaps around like it is auditionin’ for a circus act. Life hands us moments that make us want to scratch our heads just like that. We meet folks, hear messages, and sometimes watch someone holler about God in a way that makes every lil’ ol’ raccoon in the woods stop and say, “Now hold on a minute.” That’s plum why 1 Peter 3:15 tells us to be ready to explain the hope we have. Hope just ain’t loud, angry, or mean. Hope is real steady, gentle, and anchored in Christ.
Years ago in Houston, I saw a man holdin’ a sign that said, “The wages of sin is death.” He was shoutin’ things that made even a lil’ ol’ lizard sunbathin’ on a rock look plum offended. My friend, another pastor, finally stepped up and asked him why he left out the rest of Romans 6:23, which says, “The gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” That man sho’-nuff’ didn’t appreciate that suggestion. He told my friend that God would judge him for his interruptin’ ways and went right back to yellin’ his warnin’ on the street. Friend, judgment is very real, but if all we ever holler is about judgment, we’re just flat leavin’ out the very heart of the gospel. The gospel is hope. The gospel is mercy. The gospel is Jesus.
To deepen this truth, Psalm 130:7 says, “Hope in the Lord, for with the Lord there is mercy, and with Him is abundant redemption.” That there verse sits in the soul like a dragonfly quietly hoverin’ over a puddle of water left standin’ by the freshly watered rose bushes. It plum reminds us that God’s mercy ain’t skimpy at all. It’s mighty abundant. Overflowin’. Enough for Nineveh, enough for America, and enough for you and me.
God spared Nineveh. Jonah wasn’t exactly the poster child for cheerful evangelism, yet God used him anyway. Jesus Himself validated Jonah’s story in Matthew 12:40. Just as Jonah spent three days in the belly of that fish, Jesus spent three days in the tomb and then rose again. That’s sho’-nuff why we’ve got hope. Jesus took the judgment we deserved. He carried our sin. He died in our place. He rose so we could live.
Father, thank You for the hope that anchors us. Thank You for mercy that reaches farther than our failures. Teach us to speak Your truth with grace, kindness, and courage. Help us share the hope we have in Christ with clarity and love. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Well, bless my boots and pass me some more of that sweet, iced tea, friend. Before you ever walk away from this place today, let this here truth git to settlin’ deep down in your heart like a tired lil’ ol’ field mouse findin’ a warm patch of hay after outrunnin’ a wily ol’ barn cat all mornin’. Hope ain’t fragile. It’s plum strong enough to steady you when life kicks up dust like a stampedin’ herd of cattle. God’s mercy will meet you with the quiet confidence of an ol’ hoot owl perched way up in the pines, seein’ what things you can’t. And His redemption will rise up in your life with the certainty of dawn pushin’ back the night. When someone asks about your hope, you won’t have to scramble like a startled lil’ ol’ chipmunk. You’ll be all ready, steady, and anchored in Christ as you respond in whatever way the Lord has laid out for you to bring honor and praise to His name.
With joy,
Gwen
