mercy cuts deep

The only thing harder than asking forgiveness is to ask it...and live with its denial.  Even if you hear the words “I forgive you”, words ring false.  Averted eyes, icy silence, stolen friends, complete rejection – these speak the truth in the heart. 

I do not understand.  I cannot fathom how someone can sing of God’s mercy and grace on sinners, but refuse to extend that God-given forgiveness to a repentant sister.  That’s not how it's supposed to work, I protest.  So much of me wants to cry out:  This is not fair. 

But I cannot be angry.  I cannot be resentful, or bitter.  I cannot even want justice, because the penalty has already been borne by Another.  To cry out for more justice is to curse the blood that covers me.   

Still I struggle, because all that is not of God in me is not satisfied with that answer.

And yet, what do I read?  God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.  While I am still a sinner, Christ died for me.  While they are still sinners, Christ died for them.  This Gospel I sing compels me to believe that neither of us will receive justice.  Not only to believe it, but to rejoice in it.  

The cross gives me hope that one day, long-held grudges and old wounds will not matter.  We will all praise the Giver of the grace lavished upon us.  And not just grace that we ourselves have received, but that has been poured upon all who trust in the name of Jesus - even those who caused the wounds.  

"Let us wonder grace & justice,

Join & point to mercy's store.

When through grace in Christ our trust is -- 

Justice smiles, and asks no more."

(Photo:  A church in the Bronx.  Taken as I sat in New York Friday traffic.)

bride & groom

There he stands, watching her come towards him.  She’s so excited; she  has eyes for no one but him.  And he—well, just look at his face.  She is his bride.  As he places the ring on her finger, she laughs in incredulity: “Is this real? Are you really making this promise to me?”  Yes.  The rings are the sign.

I never understood the power of the Church as the Bride of Christ, the Groom, until this moment when I saw this human groom’s face.  Because instead of wondering whether a man would ever look at me in that way and place a symbol on my finger, I realized – one day, my Savior will gaze upon me with even greater love.  The seal of the promise is not a metal circle, but scarred wrists, bloody feet, a new heart.  And I shall see His face.  I am His bride.  He is my Groom.

I know that the Church collectively is the Bride, not mere individuals.  Christ, in His love, will see us as one.  But a groom doesn’t just love his bride as a whole being; he cherishes every part of her.  Her big, shining eyes.  Her soft, long hair.  Her dimples.  Her nose and the way it wrinkles when she laughs.  Her tiny hands and feet.  Her smile.  Her voice.  Everything that makes up who she is, he treasures.  He examines the details of each feature with delight.

And so, just as Christ will look upon His Bride, the Church, with unimaginable love, so He will gaze upon me.  So He will delight in you.  And we together shall see His face – distant now as we walk down this long aisle of the years, but coming closer, closer…

O Lord, haste the day.

(Thank you, Kristen & James, for inviting me to be part of your God-honoring wedding celebration.  May God bless your life together richly, and keep us all ever-focused on the eternal wedding feast.)