It’s midnight and my husband is outside, under our deck, trying to find the entry point of a new resident of the rodent variety.
He’s out in the dark, damp, cold, autumn night air, with a flashlight and the ire of one whose wife’s sleep has been interrupted all week long by the mystery scratching, burrowing, nesting and chewing, of who knows what within the outside wall of our bedroom.
He’s a brave, brave, man.
And he’s wicked when he wields a flashlight. I’m going to totally keep him.
I hear thumping, some banging, some rustling, some irate murmurings, and then he clomps through the house in pjs and work boots to the basement. A little more drilling, hammering. And when he settles in again he says he’s at least scared it off. I’m so relieved I’d jig but would hurt myself since I’m so very tired.
He’ll completely roll his eyes at me even blogging about this, but we are able to sleep. And by we, I mean me since he can sleep through the second coming.
Such little annoyances can spiral into something so big our lives can come to a standstill. Something grows bigger than our ability to deal with it. Something knocks us off our feet, mistakes loom large, impossible situations take our breath away.
And in the midnight hour, we find ourselves struggling to weed out where it all went wrong, beating ourselves up for not having been more ready, and learning that sometimes life just carries on anyway.
[bctt tweet=”Thank heaven for Mercy. It’s given to us whether we deserve it or not.” username=”cduncansphoto”]
Thank heaven for Mercy.
It’s given to us whether we deserve it or not.
It waits at the end of our battles and helps us limp off the field for another day, quiet and forgiving, and encouraging.
It is not affected by our hard circumstances, but rather, it’s completely initiated in the wake of.
Despite my mini meltdown from lack of sleep prompting the mouse hunt, my amazing guy had mercy on me and crawled around under the spider-swamped deck, all so I could get some z’s.
I know we see examples of mercy in the media, in literary texts, where someone doesn’t deserve a second chance but they get one anyway… the mercy giver frowns and pauses, then looks a tad smug, the mercy receiver looking humbled, chastised, tail between their legs and thankful as all get-out that they can start over.
But I’m so comforted to know real mercy never looks like that. In all the references to mercy in the Bible, Mercy is;
…extended with concern for a soul, with unfailing love in mind, with restoration as the goal, and with new promise about to be supplied.
And it’s completely based on nothing we could offer in return. It wouldn’t be Mercy if was.
Read 1 Peter 1:3 and see that His unconditional mercy brings hope.
Ephesians 2:4 is a declaration of how great His mercy is begotten of an even greater love for us.
Look at Psalm 145:9 and realize His tender mercies blanket ALL His works…
And read Hebrews 4:16 with a promise to have an audience with Mercy in the flesh…
When we set our hearts on the One who makes all things new, we’re granted access to amazing Mercy on a continual basis. Nothing needs to haunt us, nothing needs to taunt us, nothing needs to flaunt fear, and doubt, and the past at us anymore.
Like the midnight mouse raid for the sake of a tired soul who needed to get over herself, He is more than willing to grant new Mercy no matter what we think we deserve, and work in our stead. To crawl around in the cobwebbed spaces of our hearts and souls and shine a light where things need fixed. And bring a new morning with rest and healing.
Supply and provide. Restore and renew.
Lord, so thankful for Your mercies, new every morning.