When Mercy Runs Down the Road

Land sakes, friend, slip on around here through the side gate and set yourself beneath that old shade tree over here beside the ol’ front porch. There’s some sweet tea in the pitcher, something else sweet in the kitchen, and an ol’ hound dog plum stretched across the walkway like he personally holds the deed to the property. Today we’re talkin’ about mercy, the kind that don’t stand on the porch with folded arms just waitin’ for somebody to crawl home properly.

Jesus paints that picture in Luke 15:20, which says, “But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him.” The prodigal son had plum squandered his inheritance, embarrassed his family, and landed so low that pig slop started lookin’ appetizin’ to him. He finally headed home expectin’ some real serious judgment.

But his father ran out to greet him.

That there may be the most beautiful part of the whole story. The son came back home rehearsin’ a speech. The father came runnin’ out to him with compassion.

That there’s real downright mercy, friend.

And Micah 7:18 tells us something wonderful about God: “He delights to show mercy.” Think about that. God don’t dispense mercy like an irritated ol’ shopkeeper countin’ his pennies. Mercy delights His heart.

Sometimes we’re mighty grateful for that when we’re the ones needin’ forgiveness. But let somebody hurt us, and suddenly we can guard mercy tighter than an ol’ chicken hen sittin’ on her last egg.

Yet forgiven people are downright called to become forgivin’ people.

Extendin’ mercy don’t mean pretendin’ the wound didn’t hurt. It means refusin’ to make another person keep paying a debt you’ve surrendered done to God.

Maybe there’s somebody standin’ a long way off in your life. Perhaps reconciliation is possible. Perhaps wisdom requires boundaries. Either way, your heart can still release vengeance and choose mercy.

Father, thank You for running toward me with mercy when I deserved judgment. Soften the places in my heart that have grown hard through hurt. Give me wisdom, compassion, and courage to forgive as You have forgiven me. Help my life reflect the mercy I have received. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Now fetch your things and head right on back out through that ol’ garden gate, friend. Don’t be carryin’ an old grudge around like a snappin’ turtle tucked under your arm. Mercy may not rewrite yesterday, but it can keep yesterday from poisonin’ tomorrow. A gate swings easier when the rust is plum gone. And a heart travels lighter when it finally lets grace have the last word.

With joy,

Gwen