“Never lose hope in God’s mercy.”
–St. Benedict
When I was in middle school, I developed quite a distaste for doing homework. I therefore employed my adolescent creativity and established pretty sophisticated homework-avoidance skills.
They usually worked.
Occasionally, however, something slipped through a crack in my scheme and caught up with me. And double-unfortunately, multiple examples of such slips happened in the same class.
It was sixth grade History, and after completely forgetting about two assignments, my teacher started to notice a pattern. Apparently she thought that I needed some help with motivation, which she was gracious enough to offer to me by making me take a paper home to get signed by a parent that said something along the lines of, “Your son is not doing his homework, and Ineed you to sign this to make sure you know about it.”
This was a different ballgame. I could deal with an occasional incomplete assignment, but my teacher knew that I wouldn’t forge a parent’s signature. (My hopes of escaping the situation were complicated since she attended the same small church as we did. I could look at heracross the sanctuary on Sunday and be okay with not turning in an assignment, but I knew God would be on her side if I tried to do something along the lines of lying on this form.) So, the time came and I had to own up to my lack of study habits and get the paper signed by one of my parents.
I had no choice. I put it off as long as possible, but then before leaving for school, I went to give it to my dad. He was working at his desk. I walked up behind him, didn’t say anything, and slid the paper in front of him.
He read it, didn’t say anything, signed it, and handed it back to me. Silence.
Unsure of what to make of the gesture, I took the paper and began to walk back to my room. Then he turned around in his chair and stopped me. “Hey,” he said. “Keep up the good work.”
I’d never laughed like that nor been so happy in all of my eleven years. Soon afterward, I began to do all of my homework assignments (for that teacher’s class).
That has been one of my favorite stories to tell about my dad for a long time, as it’s now been more than twenty-five years since it happened. After his death, I began to wonder about onepart of the memory: Why was I scared to show him the note in the first place? Certainly I felt guilty about what it represented and wanted to hide it from him, but why? How did I expect he would respond?
For all of the years leading up to that day and in all of the years following it, I never knew him to be anything other than gentle, forgiving, and very slow to become angry. So why didn’t I trust those characteristics about him when approaching his desk that morning?
I think there is a poor trick we all play on ourselves internally when we mess something up, and somehow that trick leads us to believe that maybe we aren’t as loved as we really are. Even though my Dad was always a model of loving me regardless of my performance, somehow that day I thought my relation to him as his beloved son was in some degree of jeopardy. Apparently it was as if I thought this one mistake would be too much for him to bear and would use up the last drop in his uncommonly deep well of patience.
Has God ever dealt with you in any other way than being slow to anger, abundant in mercy, and rich in love? If not, why do we expect anything else?
A few years after my dad died, my mom moved out of the house they had shared for more than forty years, and asked my brothers and me to go through the house and see if there were any of his things we wanted.
Only one really mattered to me: the desk. It’s where I sit as I type this now. It’s where I will turn around in a few minutes when my kids get home from school and hug them as they run into the room. It’s where the man who modeled God’s mercy for me taught me to hope in it, always.
Author:
Daniel Ethan Harris lives in Midland, Texas. He manages a family farm and ranch and explores life in the kingdom of God with others through writing and spiritual formation opportunities through the local church and www.salvationlife.com. He is the author of Live Prayerfully: How Ordinary Lives Become Prayerful and other resources on life with God, and is a graduate of CenterQuest’s School of Spiritual Direction.
CenterQuest
Latest posts by CenterQuest (see all)
- The Mercy Desk - February 12, 2016
- The Mercy of Love - February 4, 2016
- A Prayer for Mercy - January 28, 2016
So great Daniel! Thank you for the reminder to be merciful and love unconditionally! I will be more aware of this with my own children and the students that I teach!
What a great reminder that mercy is incarnational, Daniel.
Good word, Lanny. It isn’t a theory.
Daniel how true that our good (and bad) models of caregivers have shaped our ideas about who God is for us. But I do believe that when God does “deal with us” as you have mentioned, it is ALWAYS slow to anger and abounding with love. But that sense of God being love to us can often be nebulous outside of reading that God’s mercy is truly as outlandish as it is. That does not always reach us far enough. This is why I wonder if God does not mostly use others, to show us his mercy. I have been on either side of that mercy and it is so powerful. It seems to transcend so much of the wrongness in life. This is why I want to keep practicing it to the full.
Amen, Val. For me–particularly with my kids. If they can trust God’s mercy because they learned to trust mine–success.
Daniel, thanks for sharing this warm and beautiful story of love, forgiveness and mercy. I have to ask you one question though, which is the link between your father being angry (which he wasn’t or at least he didn’t show it) and God in these questions; “Has God ever dealt with you in any other way than being slow to anger, abundant in mercy, and rich in love? If not, why do we expect anything else?”
Why would I expect God to be angry and not loving? I know I have a different background but I feel there is a Christian tendency to see guilt or shame as an unworthiness and reason for not receiving God’s love, which is easily mistaken as a lack of love from God. To me it seems as we as humans will always be the failing link when it comes to love, forgiveness and mercy. To me this question would be interesting to add. If God is slow to anger, abundant in mercy, and rich in love (as you expressed it), what in me needs to change in this moment to receive that love? How do you perceive this connection between your two questions?
Anna, good questions. We all have ideas about God which we have picked up from innumerable places. Although often left unexamined, they–for better or worse–shape our spirituality. At least in North American Christianity, the idea that God is angry with me, with some constant sense of disappointment in me, is perhaps the most prevalent image of God. Yet, what I was trying to point out with those questions: it doesn’t match our experience if we reflect on it.
Thank you, again (on Thursday the 18th of February) for this beautiful picture and description of The Mercy Seat. I sent you an e-mail, Daniel, and asked about posting on blogs like yours because I am such a notice at these types of communication. My mother, Charlene Hendrix, was a person who loved you very much and, as you said in a tribute to her after she died, posted frequently and that was several years ago. My sister, Judy Billingsley, and I are reading “Follow” during Lent this year. Thank you for your heart and your gift with God’s words.
Daniel, your story of the mercy desk is a beautiful picture of God’s extravagant love! You’ve prompted me to carefully consider whether or not God responds to me with anything other than steady love and mercy. I’m realizing that I have sometimes mistaken my earthly circumstances for God’s disapproval or anger, but how shortsighted I’ve been! I must concede that God doesn’t cause things to go awry and get messed up down here, they just do, but he is faithful to walk with us and love us through the mire. Oh, to have an earthly father display such consistent patience and mercy is a lovely gift! It must also be a gift to sit at that tangible reminder of both your earthly and your heavenly father’s tender mercy expressed to you so often. Thank you for that final reminder to hope always in God’s mercy — its a steady stream, isn’t it?
I really loved reading this story, Daniel. What a wonderful picture for me (and the others who have commented). The constancy of mercy is beyond our comprehension. God’s views of us are also beyond our understanding – but the view is always from a position of unconditional love, grace and mercy. It is truly humbling and awe-inspiring. I am so glad that my mother and my sister helped me connect with your work, Daniel. You are appreciated.