One of my fondest memories of childhood is spending time at my grandmother’s house with my older sister and two cousins. There was always an adventure to be had and we had plenty of them. Like any good grandparent, my grandmother spoiled us rotten and she let us get away with way more than she should have. She was a sweet lady and I miss her dearly.
Her house was a great house for grandkids. One room in particular was a perfect setting for our adventures. She lived in a split-level house with a den on the lower floor. This den was perfect to play in, right down to the way it was decorated. It had dark wood panel walls, red shag carpet, couches and chairs that resembled a leopard skin print, and a giant red lounge chair in the corner that doubled as a slide for small children. We played for hours in that den. Once we rearranged all the furniture into a maze, turned out all the lights, and tried to find our way through the maze in the dark. Grandmother knew what we were doing all along but never said a word. She didn’t want to ruin our fun.
I was the youngest of the group. My oldest cousin, Keith, was the only other boy. One day in particular we were wrestling around in the den. The wrestling evolved into a game where he was sitting in one of the chairs and I would run and try to jump into his lap. He would then toss me across the room like a rag doll. Tons of fun. Well, one time I jumped a little too high causing the chair to turn over along with Keith and myself. We crashed into a ceramic pot bellied stove sitting up against the wall, shattering it into a million pieces. We frantically tried to piece the stove back together, but quickly figured out we had no glue to make it stick. Somehow we got the stove pieced together without the glue. We had gotten away with it, so we thought.
Several years later, after we had all grown up, we were at my grandmothers house on Christmas Eve. We were sitting in that den and began telling stories about all the adventures we had in that house. Eventually the conversation turned to the pot bellied stove. I guess we all felt the need to confess so we finally did. We asked my grandmother when she figured out the stove had been broken. She told us she was cleaning in the basement one day, dusting with a feather duster. She came to the stove to give it a good dusting and it completely fell apart. She never said a word to us. Never fussed, never scolded us, never mentioned it. She was more concerned with us enjoying our time at her house and creating memories than she was her ceramic stove. She forgave us without giving it a second thought. It was as if it had never happened. That’s mercy.
It occurs to me, that is similar to how God deals with our sin. We, of course do need to confess our sins to God (something we didn’t do with my grandmother until years later). However, when we do, God is quick to forgive us and restore us to a right relationship with Him. We are assured in 1 John 1:9, “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” Also, we discover in Psalm 103:12, “As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us.” Yes, there are consequences for our sins and sometimes God disciplines us because He is our Heavenly Father and He loves us. But when it comes to forgiveness, He never withholds it as long as we are willing to turn from our sin and turn to Him in repentance. Once He forgives, He no longer holds it against us. It’s as if it had never happened.
Instead of punishment, we receive complete forgiveness. That’s mercy!
Sincerely,
Pastor Allen