MercieSSS!

Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed,

Because His compassions fail not.

They are new every morning;

Great is Your faithfulness.

~Lamentations 3:22, 23

God's mercies are new every morning. What a wonderful assurance! But what happens if you've messed up plenty by the time you've had your first cup of coffee? If you're anything like me, that's not hard to do --especially before coffee! 

I used to wonder just how much God was willing to take. As though I'd broken Him in some way. And then He gave me other people. Not that those around me test every bit of forgiveness or mercy in me --quite the opposite; but if someone like me can forgive an offense, to what lengths will God go? Just how merciful is God?

The other day, a fig bar went missing from the counter in our kitchen. It belonged to our daughter who was still in bed. When I rounded the corner of my office, I heard a familiar crackling sound, the crackle of a fig bar wrapper. One of our other residents had made off with it after our discussion as to whom the fig bar belonged, a discussion which ended with, "Just leave it where it is, please." Confrontation. Not angry or accusatory, but investigative. Had I not made myself clear? Was there something that caused our hungry little caterpillar to think his actions would be acceptable? I removed the molested fig bar --not that the previous owner would now want it, but because of my concern over sugar intake --and we moved on. Or so I thought.

Later in the day, our fig bar fanatic's behavior had degenerated to tantrums and refusals. When confronted again, this time a little more sternly, I received an apology. Not for the tantrums. Not for the admitted disobedience. Not for the accusations that were made against me. I received an apology for the fig bar. The fig bar! This sweet young man had harbored his earlier misdeed for hours. One small infraction had derailed him for almost an entire day. 

It was then I wondered how often I allow things from the past to derail me. How many times have I silently confessed, I don't feel forgiven, and allowed that enslaved attitude to set my course for the day? How often have I allowed myself to be sucked in, back to who I used to be rather than who I am in Christ? How many times have I apologized to the Lord for my disobedience, when the real issue lies in my failure to trust Him at many levels? How many times have I outworn God's welcome, exhausted His mercies toward me?

God's mercies are new every morning, but they are not mercies in the sense that there is some predetermined, restricted number or quantity. God is infinite --in His goodness, His love, His peace, His faithfulness, His presence, His justice, and His mercy. The Hebrew word, hesed, sometimes translated as mercy, is said to be everlasting and extended toward thousands of generations. If we are seen by God through the blood of Jesus Christ, imagine the mercieSSS --ongoing, beyond measure --that are available to each one of us as God's children! We don't receive a new supply each morning because yesterdays have been exhausted; we receive mercies unique to that day, our daily bread, so to speak. The mercy shown for an irresistible fig bar cannot be applied to the mercy needed for a tantrum or a false accusation. Mercy is unique to the circumstance, but in God's economy, everlasting in scope and substance. 

So, take heart! If you have confessed with your mouth and believed in your heart that Jesus is Lord, your slate is clean, the bonds of sin have been broken, you are free to trust Him and to obey, and God's mercies --God's mercieSSS --are new toward you every morning!

Midweek: Love

The following was written by Frederick Buechner and appeared in his work, The Magnificent Defeat:

THE LOVE FOR equals is a human thing—of friend for friend, brother for brother. It is to love what is loving and lovely. The world smiles.

The love for the less fortunate is a beautiful thing—the love for those who suffer, for those who are poor, the sick, the failures, the unlovely. This is compassion, and it touches the heart of the world.

The love for the more fortunate is a rare thing—to love those who succeed where we fail, to rejoice without envy with those who rejoice, the love of the poor for the rich, of the black man for the white man. The world is always bewildered by its saints.

And then there is the love for the enemy—love for the one who does not love you but mocks, threatens, and inflicts pain. The tortured's love for the torturer. This is God's love. It conquers the world.   

~Frederick Buechner

Tell Me Again Why I'm Supposed to Be So Angry

I'm supposed to be angry that I've been left to raise this child all on my own.

I'm supposed to be angry that my husband enjoys having his meals prepared and his lunch packed each day.

I'm supposed to be angry that I cannot kill our child.

I'm supposed to be angry I cannot pastor a church.

I'm supposed to be angry most men are stronger than I am.

I'm supposed to be angry our culture once required gentlemen to open doors for ladies.

I'm supposed to be angry I am a biological woman (as though there is any other kind).

I was standing in the checkout line at the market the other morning. I spotted the cashier at the register next to me wiping down her empty belt. I gathered our youngest and moved toward her line. Simultaneously, a man and his small son were moving from their place at another register toward the same goal. He moved in a split second before me.

Did you see that, Son? I beat her to it! I had to put my back into it, but I bested her!

I was dumbfounded --not to mention biting my tongue almost unto complete severance. Are you serious with this right now? I thought. What a cretin! And this is the legacy you are building for your little boy? As time passed, I mulled it over. You know, we've done this to ourselves, I thought. And in many ways. it's true. 

Our western culture tells us we should be entitled to all the rights and privileges of our male counterparts. Our western culture even tells us we can go so far as to be men. Our western culture says we are oppressed by men, by our systems. Our western culture started this lie a long time ago: You can have it all! No one can have it all. Not men, not women, not children --no one. But somehow, we've looked into the next pasture, saw grass we perceived to be greener than our own, and stuck our heads through the fence. In some cases, we've rallied to tear down the fence and take the pasture by force, trampling the beautiful lea we'd been given as well as those who were quite content grazing there. We've screamed at and abused our own kind, telling them that by cheerfully serving their families, by baking pies or gardening or working for charities or volunteering at our schools they were holding us back. We've demanded men not hold doors or treat us gently. We've worn ridiculous hats and demanded we have the right to curse and kill. We've taught our daughters that being a mother is a lowly, terrible, "less than" sort of occupation, and no worse fate can befall a woman but that she honors her husband. We've tried to take what real men once liberally gave --deference, kindness, protection, provision, leadership. We have failed and we have suffered the consequences along with our children. If I am angry about anything, I am angry about that.

I want the love and support of my husband. I want to be an active part of the lives of our children. I want to help those inside and outside of our home. I want to go to morning Bible studies. I want to raise a next generation of godly men and women --or help in raising the generation after them. I want to welcome my husband home with a hot meal or send him off in the morning with a little note in his lunch. I want him to open the pickle jar for me or carry the laundry basket up from the basement or hang those shelves in my office. And I am okay with not only knowing I can do those things myself but keeping quiet and allowing my husband to do it for me. I want him to give me that special place of honor because he wants to give it, not because I have demanded it. And the same is true of our society: I want to be treated properly because society has been taught it is right to do so, not because I have foolishly, impulsively, recklessly threatened to burn it down. 

It's not the crocheting that makes us women any more than shattering glass ceilings; but it is following the design of our Creator despite the pressures and presumptions of our fallen culture. Being a biblical woman may be hard in a cursed world, but being a biblical woman is a tremendous privilege. And it just might be our cursed world that makes it so. Difficulty draws us closer to the only One who truly has control over our situations. Difficulty can be the impetus to teamwork and a strong support network. Difficulty can teach us so many lessons. Difficulty and the way we navigate it can be a light to those who have believed the lie they can have it all, who are seething with anger or confused by their roles. Being a woman according to God's design in a world that is broken and wicked and cursed and disillusioned and angry can be liberating in the truest, most joyous sense of the word.