Day of Mercy

"Mom, can this be a day of mercy?" asks my now-five-year-old daughter nearly every night.

This started a few months ago when, one night after tucking them all in, I turned to discover a veritable wasteland of strewn toys through the house.  Brilliantly I concluded that if they had so many toys they couldn't keep them put away, then they had too many toys.  But instead of ranting, kicking toys, spitefully cleaning them up myself (options I resort to on stormier days), I calmly sat the kids down the next day and explained.  I did not want to have to look at their toys after they went to bed.  I did not want to step on assorted matchbox cars and fairy wands as I traversed the three steps between the kitchen sink and the dishwasher.  I said, in essence, that they would be cleaning up their stuff or it would be put in lockdown for an unspecified amount of time.

Secretly, I was wondering if they would even miss their stuff.  To my chagrin, I captured a rather large garbage bag of items in the first week or two that went totally unnoticed.  But my meticulous daughter soon realized there were some valuable items she didn't want confiscated.  Thus the terror entered her heart.

Soon, bedtime would set in and panic would ensue.  The first time it happened I assured her that though, by the new rules of the house, I should indeed take her beloved toys, I would grant her mercy for that night.

As days and weeks passed into months, she became much better about keeping her things picked up.  Sometimes when realization dawned just before bedtime, a frenzy of cleaning would ensue.  I particularly enjoy hearing her marshaling her younger brother into being her deft accomplice in putting the toys away.  Only occasionally have there been lapses when toys are left out and confiscated (usually unnoticed on her part).  Recently she lost something she wanted back right away and I had her parole the item by doing an extra chore.  (She found this chore so fun that she begged to be allowed to do it again.)

So on a practical level overall, success.  Far fewer toys on the rug at the end of the day.  But on a much larger concept level, I have introduced the essence of mercy to my daughter.  That what we deserve we do not receive.  That toys owing forfeit are allowed to lay behind the couch in her make-believe doll home and not go into the closet of darkness.  Because of mercy.

And so, the frequently asked question: "Mom, can this be a day of mercy?"

And nearly always comes my reply, "Yes, it can.  Today can be a day of mercy."

Why can I extend mercy so freely? Because I have received the same, on an infinitely greater scale, from my Heavenly Father.

What a privilege, truly, to teach such a truth to our children.  And, in turn, to be reminded by a simple illustration of the unfathomable mercy extended to us every day.

Our Frame

As New Year’s Day fades from recent memory, I contemplate what happens to our resolutions that also begin to fade from the fabric of our lives.  I’m not a big one for making lists at the beginning of a new year, though it is a good time for reflection and evaluation.  But all through the year, I’m hit with “new ideas” that I try to implement.  And then I fail.  Or forget. Or life just gets too busy. Or the computer gets a ransomware virus (hypothetically speaking, of course).  Like this blog.  I’m picking up the threads of it again.  (If only you could read all the blog posts I’ve composed over a sink of dishes!)  But what if I fail? What if I get too busy being a parent that I don’t make time to write about it? 

And then I remember Psalm 103.  “For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.”  So often when we try to do something, there are two usual outcomes.  We fail, so we try harder.  This is a vicious cycle, addressed well by Jeff VanVonderen in his book.  Then there’s the second result, where we don’t fail!  Then we pat ourselves on the back, relieved that we are better than someone else we could name, and reassure ourselves that we have what we need to succeed.

Both results, obviously, leave out God.  We must remember that in ourselves our righteousness is seen as filthy rags.  And quite frankly, it’s just a matter of time before we fail anyway.  On the other hand, our failures, while they astonish us, are no surprise to God.  Why? Because he knows us! He knows who we are, what we are capable of doing, and he knows that we were not created with omnipotence or self-sufficiency.  He knows that we are humans, with a wonderful mixture of strength and weakness. 

And God, as our Father, stands waiting to show compassion on us.  My oldest daughter recently turned five.  The night before her birthday she said, “When will it happen, Mom?  When will I get big? Will it happen during the night while I sleep?”  She just knew that the next morning when she was five she would be bigger, stronger, taller, smarter, and pretty much capable of anything.  How disappointing to realize she still couldn’t open a jar of pickles without help! Her disappointment mirrors ours when we fail as adults.  As her mother, I was not surprised by her lack of hand strength.  I know when she will need help, and I delight in being able to lend her the assistance she needs.  And I revel in her sweet delight at my offered help.

Our heavenly father wants the same for us.  He is merciful, gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.  He does not give us “what we deserve” when we sin.  He offers grace.  Mercy.  Let’s not offer ourselves less.  Instead of beating ourselves up over the failures in our lives, let’s run to our Father for help, for forgiveness, for grace.  And he will abundantly give it, above all we can ask or think.

Psalm 103:1-14

Bless the Lord, O my soul,
    and all that is within me,
    bless his holy name!

2 Bless the Lord, O my soul,
    and forget not all his benefits,

3 who forgives all your iniquity,
    who heals all your diseases,

4 who redeems your life from the pit,
    who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,

5 who satisfies you with good
    so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's.

6 The Lord works righteousness
    and justice for all who are oppressed.

7 He made known his ways to Moses,
    his acts to the people of Israel.

8 The Lord is merciful and gracious,
    slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

9 He will not always chide,
    nor will he keep his anger forever.

10 He does not deal with us according to our sins,
    nor repay us according to our iniquities.

11 For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
    so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;

12 as far as the east is from the west,
    so far does he remove our transgressions from us.

13 As a father shows compassion to his children,
    so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.

14 For he knows our frame;
    he remembers that we are dust.

The Garden of Eden Playground

“A playground!” The happy voices of my children rang out from the back seat as I swung the car into a parking space and cut the engine.  It was a new playground for them, huge, and full of brightly colored slides and ramps.  A veritable Garden of Eden.

But, like all such gardens, there was one “forbidden fruit.”  Off to the side (yes, way over there on the right) was a tiny sandbox with a digger.  Because they were about to set off on a six-hour car ride, I told them not to play in the sand. 

What, then, was the one and only thing my daughter wanted to do? Quite obviously, the sand digger!  It made me so sad to see her joy evaporate as she fixated on that one prohibited option.

You see, of course, the analogy to Adam and Eve.  But my daughter’s actions that day revealed to me my own disposition to pine for the one thing I don’t have while forgetting, or ignoring, or dismissing all the wonderful things I do have in my life. 

God has given us richly all things to enjoy.  That sentiment is from I Timothy 6:17.  But it’s not the things themselves for which we are to be thankful.  The whole verse goes like this, “Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.”  We are to enjoy God.  We are to hope in Him.  We are to trust Him.  When I lose sight of this, I am truly lost. 

God has indeed given us so much to enjoy.  A mantra at my house is, “Be thankful for the things that you have.”  A mom friend was lamenting today all the “unplayed-with” toys at her house.  Our children have so much.  I see this clearly in their lives.  But it’s true in mine, too.  We don’t wonder where our next meal will come from.  We don’t worry that we will face the winter elements without coats or shelter.  We have food, raiment.  But are we content?

And when we are not content, when we chase elusive idols of happiness and self pleasure, we find ourselves miserable and, often, eating the forbidden fruit.

But that’s not where God wants us.  He wants us to play on the slides, to rejoice in the beauty of a sunny, late-September Friday, to race and romp as carefree children.   We do this as we hope in Him, as we trust in Him. As we put our confidence in Him.  He alone can carry that trust and never fail.