2 Timothy 1:2 – Mercy Me!
2 To Timothy, a beloved son:
Grace, mercy…
"Men are not angered by mere misfortune," lectures CS Lewis through the demonic character Screwtape, "but by misfortune conceived as injury."
The Holy Spirit knows that this transference takes place. As he matures in the Spirit and experiences disappointment of even the most just expectations to the point of treachery, so does the apostle Paul. Thus, still in the handshake, the reintroduction of the intimate instruction which comes down to us as 2 Timothy, Paul is already slathering the exercise with mercy. God's love, he bequeaths, is already stepping between Timothy and a sense of impending consequences which could so easily weigh him down.
Are we that preemptive in administering broad-spectrum mercy in our relationships? I fear not, for we begrudge the application of Screwtape's maximum. In our reflective moments, we think of ourselves as hardy, forgiving sorts only occasionally touched by a sense of personal injury in our dealings with others. Begin to interact with other sons of Adam and daughters of Eve, though, and our detached, faux maturity quickly unravels. Our quick anger, over the most routine matters, discerns Ron Pearce, shows a heart that has not died to its own rights.
If, however, I give off mercy ahead of time because people's disappointing even my sometimes reasonable, sometimes biblical aspirations is normal as we stumble after Christ, I am becoming more like He Who does not wait for a fully developed rupture in order to forgive. Delights Spurgeon in Morning and Evening, "My Lord is more ready to pardon than you to sin, more able to forgive than you to transgress."
Notice that. Both for Spurgeon and for Paul, the mercy of God as delivered through them is not a set of defibrillator paddles to be pulled out when all else fails, or even a first aid kit to be pulled out when the injury is apparent. Mercy, by God's grace, is their banner. It is visible from a distance. It is the quality you catch even if you don't appertaining every detail. It is preemptive. It is enthusiastic. It is vital. It makes and maintains relationships.
How can mercy be emblazoned on our business cards rather than hidden as a last resort if people get all the secret code words and genuflections right to our satisfaction? Perhaps our transparency of our continual, celebrated experience of the mercy of God will be a hopeful beacon to other men. People will ask how we are, Christian. Can we not impart for the few who are listening for more than the stunted range of responses that what we ARE is renewed by mercy? That what we ARE is made new by forgiveness? That what we ARE is freshly aware that He has forgiven this particular sin?
Whether this broadcasting the mercy on our every channel provokes puzzled looks or leads immediately to deeper conversations is not our responsibility. It is the Holy Spirit's. We, like the lepers who came upon the abandoned spoils of war, have done our part to invite others to experience the bounty that we have. As Christ turns the diamond of His beautiful character so that we more fully appreciate Who He is, and then we are aware of what we are not yet, followed by an appreciation for a different dialect of mercy, each of these gives us the chance, almost the compulsion, to declare mercy before men.
Grace, mercy…
"Men are not angered by mere misfortune," lectures CS Lewis through the demonic character Screwtape, "but by misfortune conceived as injury."
The Holy Spirit knows that this transference takes place. As he matures in the Spirit and experiences disappointment of even the most just expectations to the point of treachery, so does the apostle Paul. Thus, still in the handshake, the reintroduction of the intimate instruction which comes down to us as 2 Timothy, Paul is already slathering the exercise with mercy. God's love, he bequeaths, is already stepping between Timothy and a sense of impending consequences which could so easily weigh him down.
Are we that preemptive in administering broad-spectrum mercy in our relationships? I fear not, for we begrudge the application of Screwtape's maximum. In our reflective moments, we think of ourselves as hardy, forgiving sorts only occasionally touched by a sense of personal injury in our dealings with others. Begin to interact with other sons of Adam and daughters of Eve, though, and our detached, faux maturity quickly unravels. Our quick anger, over the most routine matters, discerns Ron Pearce, shows a heart that has not died to its own rights.
If, however, I give off mercy ahead of time because people's disappointing even my sometimes reasonable, sometimes biblical aspirations is normal as we stumble after Christ, I am becoming more like He Who does not wait for a fully developed rupture in order to forgive. Delights Spurgeon in Morning and Evening, "My Lord is more ready to pardon than you to sin, more able to forgive than you to transgress."
Notice that. Both for Spurgeon and for Paul, the mercy of God as delivered through them is not a set of defibrillator paddles to be pulled out when all else fails, or even a first aid kit to be pulled out when the injury is apparent. Mercy, by God's grace, is their banner. It is visible from a distance. It is the quality you catch even if you don't appertaining every detail. It is preemptive. It is enthusiastic. It is vital. It makes and maintains relationships.
How can mercy be emblazoned on our business cards rather than hidden as a last resort if people get all the secret code words and genuflections right to our satisfaction? Perhaps our transparency of our continual, celebrated experience of the mercy of God will be a hopeful beacon to other men. People will ask how we are, Christian. Can we not impart for the few who are listening for more than the stunted range of responses that what we ARE is renewed by mercy? That what we ARE is made new by forgiveness? That what we ARE is freshly aware that He has forgiven this particular sin?
Whether this broadcasting the mercy on our every channel provokes puzzled looks or leads immediately to deeper conversations is not our responsibility. It is the Holy Spirit's. We, like the lepers who came upon the abandoned spoils of war, have done our part to invite others to experience the bounty that we have. As Christ turns the diamond of His beautiful character so that we more fully appreciate Who He is, and then we are aware of what we are not yet, followed by an appreciation for a different dialect of mercy, each of these gives us the chance, almost the compulsion, to declare mercy before men.
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