“Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.”
Mercy
compassion or forbearance shown especially to an offender or to one subject to one’s power
This does not come naturally to me. I do not naturally show mercy when “offended” by my husband or by my children.
But Christ calls us to be merciful. And God our Father sets the example for us to follow.
“Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.”
My husband and I enjoyed a Pops concert last night on Independence Mall.
While I could blog about how wonderful–and rare–it is to get a “date” with just the two of us, today I’m reflecting on our country’s past and the men who sacrificed to give us the America we often take for granted today. We as Americans have privileges, even “rights,” that are still unheard of in many parts of the world.
I’ve always been intensely patriotic. I love our history. I love reading our Founding Fathers’ writings and learning of the sacrifices they made so that we could be free. I love patriotic music too. . . I’ll listen occasionally at home. But there’s something extra-special about sitting on the mall in front of Independence Hall, listening to a reading of the Declaration of Independence. We need to be reminded from time to time of our past and how we became a free country.
It’s amazing to listen to this document signaling the beginning of a world power which, for at least two centuries, would seek freedom (rather than oppression) for people around the globe. I just got chills sitting there, thinking back two hundred years. What was it like for those men to stand where I stood–two hundred years ago?
The oppression they must have felt from England as they sought freedom to live, work, and worship as they desired. The calculated risks they were taking for themselves, their families, their colonies in defying their king and beginning a war. . . Their writings make it obvious that they did not enter lightly into those decisions, but passionately believed the risks had to be taken.
So as the orchestra played on a gorgeous summer evening some 233 years later, I sat in front of Independence Hall, imagining the signers themselves walking these streets . . . What a different world it was. What an amazing world it became!
When in the Course of human events it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. . .
We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these united Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States. . .
Every time I hear the last line of the Declaration, my eyes well with tears, because these men were risking everything.
And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.
As that line was read, the orchestra began playing contemplatively–“America the Beautiful,” and while no one was singing, I could hear the words in my mind:
O beautiful for heroes prov’d
In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life.
America! America!
May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness,
And ev’ry gain divine.
————————————————–
Read more July 4th celebration stories at:
“Why did Daddy punish me?” my 2-year-old asked. Each time she is punished, she asks the other parent about it, knowing full well why she was punished.
“I don’t know,” I said, having been on a different floor of the house. “Why did Daddy punish you?”
“Because I was dumpy,” she explained.
“You were grumpy?” I repeated. “You didn’t obey sweetly when Daddy asked you to obey?”
“Yes, I was dumpy,” she said.
I’m often amazed (although I shouldn’t be) how often my Bible reading intersects precisely with my daily life! Today’s reading from Exodus 16:
The sons of Israel said to them [Moses and Aaron], “Would that we had died by the Lord’s hand in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the pots of meat, when we ate bread to the full; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.” . . . So Moses and Aaron said to all the sons of Israel, “At evening you will know that the LORD has brought you out of the land of Egypt; and in the morning you will see the glory of the LORD, for He hears your grumblings against the LORD; and what are we, that you grumble against us?” Moses said, “This will happen when the LORD gives you meat to eat in the evening, and bread to the full in the morning; for the Lord hears your grumblings which you grumble against Him. And what are we? Your grumblings are not against us but against the LORD.“
Two reflections:
I will only be effective in teaching my children, as they see me model these truths in my own life.
Dear Father, help me see your love for me,
in times of plenty and in times of want.
Teach me not to be ‘dumpy’
but instead to cultivate a grateful spirit
for Your faithfulness and constant provision!
We’re leaving for Florida tomorrow, so I am reflecting once again. Last year, I was at the hospital the night before our trip to Florida, after 12 hours of contractions five minutes apart. I’m so thankful to be on this side of the story, with a healthy 11-month-old little guy!
But while I still remember, I want to record his story . . .
After week 27, contractions became a standard part of life. They were not painful, just there, and sometimes a bit uncomfortable. But honestly I was staying plenty busy with 16-month-old Mara and settling into our rental house so I didn’t really spend too much time thinking about it.
In the beginning of May our landlord admitted to us that she had not been paying the mortgage payments, and she asked to show the house in order to sell it. Before renting back in December, we had specifically talked to her about not showing the house or putting the house up for sale while we lived there. But now she said she was sorry, but she had no choice–she was about to lose the house, and if she could sell it, maybe we could work out an arrangement in which we could stay . . . All that information was unsettling. We had initially planned to buy a house in the fall or winter, but clearly God had other plans.
The prospect of house showings, house-hunting, packing and moving, while caring for a 16-month-old and having a new baby, all seemed a bit overwhelming. I have to admit I was struggling to trust God.
In the midst of the busy-ness, my sister Mary had offered to fly Mara and me down to Florida to visit for a few days. This would be our “vacation” this year, since once the baby came, there would be no vacation for some time! (Little did we know!!!)
On Wednesday, May 14, the day before our trip, I washed five loads of laundry, walked up and down both flights of stairs countless times, was frenetically cleaning the house for the Friday “house showing,” and packing for Florida. My contractions were now strong and very regular, so I started timing them. For about 4 hours they were five minutes apart. So precise, that I could look down at the clock as the number changed–yep, five minutes. Again. (This had happened with Mara at week 37 or 38. I had contractions five minutes apart for about 15 hours, weeks before she was born. Then the day before she was born, my contractions were 5 minutes apart for over about 12 hours, before progressing to 2-3 minutes apart. That lasted another 12 hours before I entered “active labor.”)
Once again I wasn’t greatly concerned. The last thing I want to do is find someone to watch Mara and drive for an hour and a half to hear the doctor say everything is fine. But since the contractions were consistently 5 minutes apart, I thought I would take a “rest,” so Mara and I took a drive up to Mt. Airy to pick something up from FreeCycle. There were two ironies about that decision: First, the lady from FreeCycle never met up with us. And second, I had never been up to Mt. Airy, but I learned that the cobblestone (and numerous other bumps) all the way up Germantown Avenue were not at all giving me the rest I needed to stop my contractions!
Daniel came home from work around 8:30 that night, and I told him about my day. At that point, Daniel told me he was starting to re-think my trip to Florida. I was in tears. My sister had bought me the non-refundable plane ticket, and this would be the last chance Mara and I would have to fly alone together before the baby came. The last thing I wanted to do was go up to Abington. But after 12 hours of contractions five minutes apart, we decided to call the resident on call. I knew what they would say. What they always say when your contractions are five minutes apart for several hours: Come in to the hospital, and get checked out.
I knew that it was the best thing to do. I couldn’t live with myself if something should happen to the baby. So Daniel stayed with Mara, and I drove up to Abington. I was amazed by how little traffic there was at 10 p.m. and thought going into labor during the middle of the night wouldn’t be all bad! I walked into the hospital and of course, being after hours, there was no one at the information desk to direct me. I had not had a hospital tour yet, so I didn’t really know where I was going.
I found a hospital employee in the hall and asked if she knew the best way to get to the Labor & Delivery 4th floor Triage. She looked at my belly and said, “Is this for you? or for someone else?”
When I said ‘For me, my contractions have been 5 minutes apart for 12 hours, and I’m just 29 weeks pregnant,’ she seemed to panic for me!
“Oh, HONEY!” she exclaimed, gesturing toward the elevator. “Come on, let’s go!”
I make Daniel’s lunch every day, and I try to include one fruit and one vegetable. When Shoprite has grapes on sale for 99 cents/lb., Daniel has grapes every day that week! So frequently I am standing at the kitchen sink, pulling the “vine” out of the bag to wash the grapes. I can’t help noticing the difference between the plump, healthy, juicy grapes on the vine, and the sour withering grapes that have come off the vine and now lay at the bottom of the bag.
I’m not sure when this started, but every single time I see those withering grapes no longer connected to the vine, I think of one of my favorite chapters: John 15.
I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples. As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.
Those withering grapes are a reminder of what I do not want to be: Living life my own way. Apart from God. Unable to bear fruit. Thrown away like a branch and withering. Thrown into the fire and burned.
I look at those withered grapes and ask myself, why do I choose this again and again?
God is the “true vine.” His design is that I should “abide in Him,” bearing fruit as I look to Him, learn who He is, trust His character, lean on Him through the “pruning,” and grow through those trials to be more like Him. Eventually my life’s “fruit” will demonstrate whether or not I am abiding in Him.
A few noteworthy contrasts:
At the end of the passage, Christ says, “If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.”
Christ desires to give us His joy and He desires that our joy would be “full.” In all of our “strivings,” is this not what we are seeking? Do we not search everywhere for that elusive thing that will make us happy, whether in the big decisions or our mundane dailyness? And Christ offers Joy, Fullness of Joy, if we will abide in Him . . .
Good reminders, from those withered grapes. I think that’s why God always sees fit to include a whole slew of them in the bottom of my bag!!!