Mercy Given That Mercy Might Be Given

I am currently camped out at the kitchen table, waiting to have a discussion about the pile of wrappers we just found in our son's room. Granola bars. An entire box's worth. Found hidden in a sock. I want him to come sit with me, but he saw the pile now sitting before me. He knows we know. We know he knows we know. But I'm waiting to show him grace. That he doesn't know. I'm sure he expects a punishment. I'm sure he believes a lecture is impending, something about integrity or food in his room. But that is not the case. Because this is a story of mercy. Oh, trust me, I'm not tooting our own horn: I'm talking about the mercy God has shown us.

I've written several times recently about addiction and eating and how that has been a difficult thing for me to get past, to put to death. I'm still not fully there yet. I still have bad days, days when the empty feeling is so at home in my soul it takes half a bag of chips or half a tray of baklava --or both! --before I feel sick enough to notice what I've done. There is an automatic response, like swatting a fly or blurting out a curse, that was programmed into me years ago as I relied on my own devices to cope with issues. (Which, btw, just causes its own issues: There is salvation in no other.) But those days are much less frequent than they were a couple months ago. I'm not counting days of sobriety. Sobriety is a term used for facing life free, present, and without the crutch of substance or self-created and self-destructive behavior. And though that is how I'm living, this is not something I am working on. This is God's grace, freedom I was graciously given. I am merely believing I have it and seeking daily to position myself in such a way to receive it. Receiving what I already have. Remaining as close to Him in quiet and prayer and worship and study, agreeing with whatever His Spirit wills to do in me. 

That is why this is a story of mercy. Because months ago, when my forty-plus year struggle with self-abuse and idolatry reached mind-boggling depths, someone decided that was enough. I hated how unhealthy my body felt. I was exhausted by the cycle of make a resolution-sin-shame-->make a resolution-sin-shame. I felt like an epic hypocrite, celebrating God's power and dominion, encouraging others to trust Him for everything, and eating my way through anxious feelings every afternoon. But I can't even say it was I who called it quits. After all, I've called it quits time and time before --even for years at a stretch. This? This is different. This is mercy. This is a word behind me, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” this is the prodigal come home to unconditional embrace, this is abiding and abundant, grace upon grace. And this may seem a bit dramatic, but it's also the means by which my Redeemer and Restorer, my Deliverer and Defender is enabling me to have this little conversation with a young man looking to fill the gaping hole in his soul. I.Get.It. And I get it because God is merciful! My poor husband, God bless him, doesn't quite understand it, but he's willing to try. And that, too, is mercy. Again and again, threads of mercy woven throughout this story.

In difficult times we're encouraged by Romans 8:28, And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. We want to know life will be okay again. But what mercy in the assurance that when things are already improving, when things are good, God is working that good for something even better. It is His mercy He demonstrates in His dealings with His people that we may not only receive it for ourselves, but we might use it to show mercy toward others!