Mercy That Transforms Evil

Reading — Genesis 45:1–15

You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good.

Genesis 50:20

When Joseph finally reveals himself to his brothers, the scene trembles with emotion. These are the men who betrayed him, sold him, and erased him from their lives. Now he stands before them clothed in authority, holding their future in his hands. Revenge would have been understandable. Instead, Joseph weeps — and mercy rewrites the story. He does not deny their wrongdoing; he names it plainly: “You meant evil against me.” But he refuses to let evil define the ending: “God meant it for good.” In Joseph’s words, we hear the echo of Romans 8:28 long before it was written: “In all things God works for the good of those who love Him.” Evil is not minimized — but it is overruled.

Joseph’s forgiveness is not passive resignation; it is active redemption. He feeds the very brothers who once starved him of freedom. He shelters those who cast him away. In doing so, he embodies what Paul would later write: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Romans 12:21). Joseph literally overcomes evil with provision. Walter Brueggemann observes that Joseph’s mercy interrupts the predictable spiral of retaliation. Revenge would have perpetuated fear; mercy creates a future. Forgiveness does not pretend the wound never happened — it refuses to let the wound have the last word.

Eugene Peterson often reminds us that Scripture teaches us to “live in the large story of God.” Joseph could have reduced his identity to betrayal and injustice. Instead, he chose to trust the wider narrative of providence. The pit, the prison, the waiting — all became chapters in God’s unfolding redemption. Mercy allowed Joseph to see his life not as a tragedy but as part of a larger saving purpose. And in Christ, we see this pattern fulfilled: the cross was humanity’s evil intention, yet God turned it toward salvation. Lent invites us to release our smaller stories of resentment and step into the larger story of grace.

Mercy transforms evil not by denying it, but by surrendering it to God — who alone can turn harm into hope.

Prayer

Heavenly Father,

You are able to bring good out of what was meant for harm.

Teach us to overcome evil with good, and to trust Your larger story when our own chapters feel painful. May Your mercy transform our wounds into witnesses of Your grace. Amen.

Mercy Without Measure

Candlesticks of Grace

Reading — Luke 6:27–36

“Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.”

Luke 6:36

As we continue our Lenten journey, Jesus brings us to one of the most searching commands in Scripture: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you” (Luke 6:27–28). This is not ordinary kindness; it is kingdom mercy. Lent exposes how quickly we calculate who deserves our goodwill. Yet Jesus roots mercy not in the worthiness of others but in the character of the Father. We love beyond reason because we ourselves are loved beyond measure. The abundance of God’s mercy toward us becomes the pattern for our response to others.

I remember my grandfather telling me, when I was still in middle school, the story of Jean Valjean and the candlesticks from Les Misérables. After stealing silver from the bishop who had sheltered him, Valjean was caught and dragged back by the police. Instead of accusing him, the bishop declared that the silver had been a gift — and then added the precious candlesticks as well. That mercy shattered Valjean’s hardened heart. He was freed not only from arrest but from bitterness and despair. It was mercy that changed him. That scene echoes Jesus’ words: mercy interrupts the cycle of retaliation and opens the possibility of redemption. It does not deny wrongdoing; it overcomes it with unexpected grace.

Jesus continues, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?” (v.32). The world operates on reciprocity; the kingdom operates on grace. God is “kind to the ungrateful and wicked” (v.35). We stand every day under that same kindness. The cross declares that God moved toward us while we were still undeserving. So when Jesus commands, “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful,” He is inviting us to reflect what we have already received. Mercy does not excuse injustice; it chooses restoration over revenge. And when we release debts instead of collecting them, we discover that mercy not only frees others — it frees us.

Prayer

Heavenly Father,

You have shown us mercy beyond what we deserve. Teach us this Lenten season to reflect Your compassion, so that our lives may become candlesticks of Your grace in a darkened world. Amen.

Mercy Triumphs

 

Mercy That Triumphs Over Judgment

Reading — James 2:1–13

“Mercy triumphs over judgment.” James 2:13

James brings the gospel into everyday relationships. When the church favored the rich and overlooked the poor (James 2:1–4), he exposed how easily we forget grace and begin measuring people by usefulness or status. Yet Scripture insists, “Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith?” (v.5). At the foot of the cross, worth is not earned but given. The Golden Commandment - Royal Law — King’s Command to Love - “Love your neighbor as yourself” (v.8) — calls us to see others through the same compassion by which we ourselves stand before God. Favoritism lives by judgment; faith lives by mercy.

Douglas V. Steere recounts a Norwegian pastor who was arrested for his role in the underground, sentenced to death in Germany, and who, by a series of extraordinary events, was still among the living when the war ended in 1945. Facing death, he experienced not hatred but a great flood of heavenly mercy poured into his heart — for his judges, his captors, collaborators, countrymen, and all people everywhere. The mercy was so pure that he regretted only that he would not remain alive longer to help shape hearts in that “climate of compassion.” His experience echoes James’s teaching: mercy is not something we manufacture but something we receive and then extend. When grace fills the heart, enemies become neighbors and justice is softened by love.

Thus James concludes, “Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom… Mercy triumphs over judgment” (vv.12–13). At the cross, God did not ignore sin; He overcame it with redeeming compassion. The abundance of God’s mercy is meant not only to save us but to flow through us — turning communities of comparison into communities of grace. When we forgive quickly, welcome freely, and treat others gently, we live inside the freedom we ourselves depend upon.

Short Prayer

Heavenly Father,

You have shown us mercy beyond what we deserve. Teach us to love others with the same compassion, so mercy may triumph in our lives. Amen.

The Memory of Mercy

Reading: Isaiah 63:7–14

I will tell of the kindnesses of the Lord, 

the deeds for which He is to be praised, 

according to all the Lord has done for us.

Isaiah 63:7

Isaiah 63 invites us to practice the "Great Exchange" by trading our short-term anxieties for the long-term memory of God’s faithfulness. In this passage, the prophet looks back at Israel’s history—not to dwell on their failures, but to recount the "abundance of His mercy." Isaiah reminds us that God is not a distant observer; in all His people's affliction, He too was afflicted. This is the heart of receiving mercy: knowing that God carries us like a father carries his child. Isaiah shows us that what we could never afford was a God who would willingly share in our suffering to bring us out of the depths.

However, the "Great Exchange" also involves a difficult transition: moving from being a recipient of mercy to becoming a conduit of it. This shift often requires us to forgive those who have "grieved His Holy Spirit" (v. 10). The story of Corrie ten Boom perfectly illustrates this struggle. After surviving the horrors of a concentration camp, she was approached by a former guard who asked for her forgiveness. She felt paralyzed by bitterness until she realized that she could not produce mercy from her own strength. She prayed, "Jesus, give me Your forgiveness," and as she reached out her hand, the "Great Exchange" occurred—God’s infinite mercy flowed through her where her own had run dry. We are reminded that “mercy does not just forgive the debt; it restores the debtor.”

To live in the abundance of God’s mercy is to realize that we are part of a continuous "movement" of grace. Just as the Holy Spirit gave the Israelites rest after their wandering (v. 14), we are called to bring that same rest to others. Jesus’ words, “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy” (Matthew 5:7), are not a simple moral rule but a revelation about how life in God’s kingdom works. Mercy is the family resemblance of those who live near the heart of God. When we choose to remember His mercy instead of our grievances, we become a bridge for others to find their way home. Like a "fountain that is always full," God’s mercy provides enough for us to receive our fill and still have an abundance to pour out on a thirsty world.

Prayer

Heavenly Father, we thank You for the abundance of Your mercy and for the way You have carried us through every affliction. We confess that we often forget Your kindnesses when we face new trials. Teach us to practice the "Great Exchange," trading our bitterness for Your grace and our fear for Your faithfulness. Help us to be conduits of Your love, extending to others the same restoration You have so freely given to us. Amen.

Ashes and Abundant Mercy

“Return to the Lord your God,

 for He is gracious and merciful, 

slow to anger and abounding in love.” 

Joel 2:13

Ash Wednesday begins with a sober truth: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3:19). The ashes name our frailty and our sin honestly. Yet Scripture never gives ashes without also giving invitation: “Return to Me with all your heart” (Joel 2:12–13). On Ash Wednesday we have learned to carry this invitation within us through the simple prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Repeated slowly, it was not a formula but a homecoming — repentance not as humiliation but as turning toward the One who is already near.

God’s mercy is abundant precisely because our need is great. David prayed, “Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your unfailing love” (Psalm 51:1). He did not appeal to his record but to God’s character. The gospel reveals that the cross is where dust and mercy meet — our sin fully acknowledged, yet fully carried by Christ (Isaiah 53:5). Ashes remind us who we are; mercy reminds us whose we are. We kneel in honesty, yet we rise in hope because “His compassions never fail; they are new every morning” (Lamentations 3:22–23).

So Lent begins not with despair but with trust. We fast not to earn love but to clear space for the love already given. We confess not to reopen wounds but to let God heal them. The journey toward Easter starts here: in humility, in truth, and in confidence that grace is larger than our failure. The God who forms us from dust also breathes new life into us again (Psalm 103:13–14). Therefore we walk forward quietly, carrying ashes on our foreheads and mercy in our hearts.

Prayer

Heavenly Father, we come before You in humility and truth. Create in us clean hearts and renew steadfast spirits within us. Lead us through this Lenten journey in the assurance of Your abundant mercy, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Returning Hearts

 The Way Home 

Reading: Jeremiah 3:1–14

“‘Return, faithless people,’ declares the Lord, ‘for I am merciful.’” (Jeremiah 3:12)

In the book of Jeremiah, we encounter a God who speaks to His wandering people not with the coldness of a judge, but with the ache of a wounded husband. To understand the weight of this call, we must look at the "legal scandal" of the ancient world: under Mosaic Law, a husband was forbidden from taking back a spouse who had abandoned him. Judah had "married" herself to idols, and by all legal standards, the relationship was over. Yet, God subverts His own protocol to reach for His people, proving that divine holiness does not eliminate tenderness—it intensifies it. As Thomas Watson captured, “The mercy of God is a fountain that is always full; it is a sun that is always shining.” Even when we turn our backs to that sun, its warmth remains constant, waiting for us to face the light again.

As we stand on the eve of Ash Wednesday, this call to "Return" takes on a seasonal urgency. Tomorrow marks the beginning of Lent, a journey of repentance where we acknowledge we are but "leaking jugs" of clay. The Desert Father Abba Moses illustrated this perfectly: when called to judge a fellow monk’s sin, he arrived carrying a leaking jug of sand. When asked why, he replied, “My sins run out behind me, and I do not see them, yet today I am coming to judge the error of another.” This humility is the heart of Lent. We realize that human logic says, “You failed; therefore, distance,” but God says, “You failed; therefore, come closer.” We remember that “mercy does not just forgive the debt; it restores the debtor.”

As we prepare for the Lenten fast, we realize that our identity is maintained by this daily act of returning. Repentance is not a performance of groveling to appease an angry deity; it is the act of returning to the One who never stopped watching the road for our arrival. We are prone to wander, yet we are met by a compassion that is “fresh and new every morning,” ensuring we never have to live in the shadows of yesterday’s failures. As we prepare to receive the ashes of repentance, let us do so with joy, walking back toward a Father whose arms are already open. We realize that our shame is a liar and His welcome is the only truth that lasts.

Prayer

Heavenly Father, we return to You again today, acknowledging the ways our hearts have wandered from Your truth. As we approach the season of Lent and the solemnity of Ash Wednesday, remind us that we are all "leaking jugs" in need of Your grace. We thank You that Your mercy reaches beyond the legal limits of our failures to bring us home. Heal our divided hearts and teach us to trust Your open arms more than our own shame. Amen.

Built by Mercy

Reading: 1 Peter 2:1–10

Once you had not received mercy, 

but now you have received mercy.

1 Peter 2:10

Peter gently reminds us that the Christian life does not begin with what we build for God, but with what God lovingly builds for us. We are “living stones” being placed into a spiritual house (1 Peter 2:5). We did not find our way into belonging; mercy carried us there. Many of us know the quiet ache of feeling unworthy, scattered, or unseen — yet the Lord gathers us and gives us a home among His people. The church exists because God chose not to treat us as our sins deserved (Psalm 103:10). Centuries ago, a hardened sea captain named John Newton discovered this in a violent storm when he cried, “Lord, have mercy.” The storm did not end immediately, but a deeper rescue had begun. Grace received him in a moment, yet reshaped him over years.

Mercy does more than forgive — it restores identity. “You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood” (1 Peter 2:9–10). Newton would later leave the slave trade, become a pastor, and spend his remaining years helping oppose the suffering he once caused. Near the end of his life he said, “I remember two things: that I am a great sinner, and that Christ is a great Savior.” He never outgrew his need for mercy; instead, it became the ground beneath his feet (Ephesians 2:4–5). When he wrote, “I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see,” he was simply describing what mercy feels like — not instant perfection, but patient redemption. In the same way, God forms us slowly, replacing our shame with gratitude and our hardness with gentleness.

So the Christian life begins each day with remembrance: once we had not received mercy — now we have. From that assurance we learn how to treat one another: “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful” (Luke 6:36). We do not force compassion out of ourselves; we receive it and pass it on. The more we rest in the mercy that holds us, the more naturally our words soften, our judgments quiet, and our love widens. Like living stones shaped by careful hands, we are being built together into a house where others may also discover mercy.

Prayer

Heavenly Father, You have welcomed us when we did not deserve a place. Teach us to rest in Your mercy and let gratitude grow in our hearts. Make us gentle and merciful toward others, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.