Tag: mercy

Posted in Thoughts from Life, Thoughts from Scripture

The Meditation of My Heart

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

I love justice. I hate injustice. Like so many Christians, injustice makes me angry, and I’m tempted to quickly jump on a bandwagon and cry for change! Demand justice for those who have been harmed!

Unfortunately, I’ve encountered a problem over the years. I’ve discovered that, in this world marred by sin, justice and injustice are not black and white. There isn’t a hard, fixed line between them that makes it easy to always know which is which.

That reality is hard to wrap our minds around. We’d rather take the quick snippets and statements, interpret them as cut and dried facts, and jump on them. And, friends, there has been a lot to jump on over the past decade or so, especially as easy access to information (whether factual or not) floods our days and our senses with what we perceive to be evil injustice — and as others manipulate that information to intentionally create that exact response.

Our quick jumping has created a rage culture. And we as Christians are taking the lead in that culture. We very, very easily see the injustice and we very, very quickly jump into the rage. It doesn’t take much to set us off.

I struggle with anger. It took heavy conviction from the Holy Spirit to force me to rethink my parenting, to learn how to not discipline out of a place of anger. To become aware of how being quick to anger damages my marriage.

But, does it really help to learn how to not act in anger toward my children and my husband if I am constantly expressing my anger toward the rest of the world?

A framed verse hangs on the wall just inside our bedroom door. I see it every time I walk out of the room. Admittedly, I don’t always notice it these days. It’s just there, as it has been for years. But my eyes still take it in, and my brain still knows what’s on it. It’s Psalm 19:14:

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, Lord, my rock and my Redeemer.

That verse has been tossing about in the back of my mind lately as our church Bible study group discusses Ephesians and Paul’s message of unity among believers. It has played back as my husband and I process through Jesus’s instructions in the Sermon on the Mount, teaching us how to treat one another, both those who believe like we do and those who are our “enemies.” It has stayed in the picture as I develop Sunday school lessons discussing how the church should be presenting ourselves to the world around us.

With every lesson, the Lord reminds me that it’s not just cleaning up my words as I relate to my family. It’s also ensuring that the meditation of my heart glorifies Him. And a heart that is so quickly inclined to anger, so quickly pushed to rage, so ready to scream “justice!” is not a heart meditating in a way that is acceptable to my Lord, my rock and my Redeemer.

Because His heart is one that sees all. Knows all. Processes the deepest, darkest corners. He recognizes the nuances of life that we try to force into black and white. He sees the hearts of those we so quickly rage against. He knows their struggles. He died for them, too, and longs for them to be His children. That’s the meditation He hungers to share with us.

He knows anger. It’s written all over His Word. He is the only God of true justice. That too is exemplified through His interactions with humanity. But, oh His mercy! His beautiful, amazing mercy flows through it all. It interacts with His righteous anger and His perfect justice in a way we cannot even begin to comprehend. We simply must accept it.

And He gives that mercy to us so freely to enable us to see with His eyes. To remind us that justice is His, not ours. Our place is not to rage, because our rage will not accomplish true, righteous justice. Our place instead is to reach out with His hands of mercy. We are to touch those beaten down by injustice while also praying for and seeking to shine love into the hearts of those who cause injustice.

That is not my natural inclination. But, the more my heart meditates on the Lord’s love and mercy, the more I can turn my anger over to Him. The more I can surrender justice into His capable hands. The more I can guide my heart to ache over others’ need for Him rather than raging against them for their actions. The more both my words and the meditation of my heart will be pleasing to Him.

Lord, may my meditations not longer be rage. May they instead be love. May they be mercy. Above all, may they be pleasing to You, readily reflecting Your love and mercy to this world mired in the mud of injustice.

Posted in Thoughts from Scripture

Why Can’t You?

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

“If I can do it, anyone can do it!”

The words are meant to encourage. To motivate. To make something seem not so hard. I’ve been on the frustrated receiving end of those words. I’ve also been guilty of saying them.

I’m not known for my grace and coordination. I remember my father frequently informing me that coordination strikes every ten seconds, and one of these days it would hit me! It doesn’t very often, for the record. But, that means that if a task requires coordination, I assume that if I can do it, anyone can. (Cue driving a stick shift. My father tried to teach me. He’s one of the most patient men I know, despite his teasing about my lack of coordination. But he did give up on teaching me to manage the clutch. He successfully taught me how to drive an automatic — and how to parallel park, thank you very much. But it was several years later, well after I was a confident driver, that my future husband finally taught me how to drive his five-speed truck.)

If I can do it, anyone can do it…right?

A book I was reading this morning made reference to Hebrews 4:14-16. Even though I knew what the passage said, I’m trying to make a habit of always rereading Scripture references brought up in books or articles I’m reading, paying attention to context and depth. So, I turned to the passage and read the familiar verses.
14 Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens—Jesus the Son of God—let us hold fast to our confession. 15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has been tempted in every way as we are, yet without sin. 16 Therefore, let us approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need. (CSB)

I suddenly felt slapped in the face. Shame spread over me, tears sprung to my eyes, and I couldn’t even bring myself to go back to the book I’d been reading. Why this visceral reaction? Because the voice I heard in my head was not one of encouragement, reminding me of the amazing loveliness of our High Priest. Instead it was an ugly voice.

“If He could do it, why can’t you? You claim to have His power, but you fall to your weaknesses. You succumb to temptation. You are never without sin. No boldness for you!”

Ouch! I knew it wasn’t truth. I really did. And yet, how often is this our go-to thought? As we discuss passages that talk about righteousness and our place before a holy God, we are much quicker to think of ourselves as sinners who just barely scraped our way in because of the grace of God than we are to think of ourselves as children of God who can approach the throne of grace with boldness.

You think I’m wrong? Listen to our music. Our prayers. Our discussions in Bible studies and Sunday school. The way we never, ever want to refer to ourselves as righteous. It’s only Jesus who is righteous. We deserve nothing because we can accomplish nothing.

And it shows in our other conversations, as well. Oddly enough, looking at one another and saying, “If I can do it, anyone can do it,” is more a reflection of our own frailty and lack than it is of believing in one another. We think so lowly of ourselves that we firmly believe that we can only accomplish things that are unbelievably easy.

And so, when we come to the holy, precious, truthful Word of God and see the hard things we’re called to do in the power of the Spirit, we falter. We remind ourselves that we’re not Jesus, so we can’t go boldly before His throne of grace.

We neglect the truth, the very point, of passages like this. Jesus gets it! He knows right where we are! He’s been there, knows exactly what is needed to navigate this exact struggle, this exact weakness, this exact journey of grief. And because He succeeded, He knows just what we need to get through it. So, instead of looking at us and saying, “If I can do it, anyone can,” He looks at us and says, “You can’t do this on your own. You need Me. My mercy. My grace. The very things I had at my disposal when I took on Your weakness. And I am giving you what no one else can: full and open access to all of it. All you have to do is come to Me and desire it. Ask for it. Receive it from My hand.”

Where are you struggling? Where are you weak? What are you failing to do no matter how hard you try? What are you seeming to do successfully on the surface while recognizing deep down that the cost is too high for you to keep it up?

Why can’t you just do it? Because you, like me, have fallen prey to the lie that you have no right to go boldly before the throne of grace. But Jesus says otherwise.

Let’s go boldly before His throne today.

Posted in Marriage

Mercy!

Posted on by Ann B. Hibbard

Memes are all the rage these days. They are everywhere. I recently saw on that depicted a couple sitting on a couch – but not together. The woman was hunched up on one end looking distressed, her back to the distracted-looking man seated on the other end. The caption indicated the journal entries for each of them. Her entry was full of worry and anxiety because their evening had not gone well. The date he had planned for them ended up being a silent affair because of his distraction. She ran through a whole litany of concerns about their marriage, then went to bed and cried herself to sleep.

His entry? A brief statement about being frustrated because his motorcycle wouldn’t start.

The whole scenario was the stereotypical picture of women being too emotional and men being too shallow and uncommunicative. The idea is that women would read that and say, “Yes! Don’t you get it? If you would just talk to me, I wouldn’t worry so much.” Men, on the other hand would respond with, “If I tell you it’s not about you, just believe me and don’t be so emotional.”

Yes, it was a very stereotypical meme. Unfortunately, it was also a very realistic meme. Not because all women are overly emotional and all men are shallow and uncommunicative. There are, in fact, a wide variety of variations that can result in the same actions. And, yes, there is a lesson here about open communication. We need to talk to one another. Period. I’m sure this is a lesson we will continue to have to learn and relearn throughout the full length of our married lives.

But, I see a deeper lesson here.

Not long after I saw this meme, I read a devotion about giving and receiving mercy. The devotion went a completely different direction, but my mind immediately connected the overall concept of mercy to this meme – and to what is often at the root of our marital clashes.

Put yourself into this scenario for a moment. How would you feel? What would be consuming your mind the most? Would it truly be a concern for your spouse, or would honesty force you to admit that your thoughts were more centered around what you wished he understood? If he would just see what he’s putting you through…

If we could truly be honest with ourselves, we just might realize that our hunger and desire is to be justified. What we should hunger for instead is the chance to extend mercy.

If you’re saying “Ouch!” right about now, know that I’ve already said it! The truth hurt when it dawned on me the first time. And, as I hash it out, I only realize more and more the depth to which I neglect to show mercy. But, that also leads to another question: what does showing mercy look like? What changes in my behavior when I offer mercy instead of demanding that I be treated with justice? (And let’s just not even think about what justice for ourselves would really mean; we don’t want to go there!)

I think the whole journal entry becomes a brand new focus. It might look something like this:

Lord, I’m tempted to be hurt and irritable right now. But, instead, I want to lift my husband up to You. There’s something wrong. Although he says it isn’t anything about me, You and I know that when he hurts or is frustrated, I feel it too. So, right now I confess my desire to be doubly hurt because he’s not sharing. I confess it and I turn from it. Instead, I thank You that You know all things. And now I entrust my husband to You. I pray that You will show me how to minister to him and show mercy right now, whether his problem is great or small. Give me words of kindness and an attitude of encouragement and joy toward him. And speak wisdom into his mind in this moment.

I wish I could say this is always my first reaction. It’s not. But I want it to be. More than that, I know it’s the obedient way to be.

Will you choose with me to show mercy?