Meekness and Mercy

Today’s article is a guest contribution from Michael Scheske - be sure to check out his Story!

Ask yourself: what is the most misused word in the English language? Look past the usual suspects. The word I am thinking of is not: like, or literally. It is not any sort of slang, nor is it a profanity that laces the halls of every middle school.

In my opinion, the most misused word in the English language is DESERVE.

We hear it everywhere. Maybe part of my hatred of that word stems from its use in advertising: “you deserve a break,” or “you deserve the best,” or, worst of all, “get her the gift she deserves,” (of course referring to an extravagant purchase that spouses should only make together, like a car with a bow on top). 

But we also use it every day. When something bad happens to someone we perceive as good, “he didn’t deserve that.” We might say that exact thing when something good happens to someone we see as bad.

We use it about ourselves: “I deserve better,” “I deserve a raise,” I deserve something I do not have.”

But worst of all, we use it as an excuse not to show love. 

If it wouldn’t be sinful I’d dare you to tell Jesus, the sinless and perfect Lamb of God who takes away that the sins of the world that that someone doesn’t “deserve” your friendship because he’s annoying, or that homeless man doesn’t “deserve” your money because it was his decisions that led him there in the first place and he’ll probably just use the money on drugs anyway.

The problem with “deserve” is that it is definitionally a word of judgment of worth, and scripture tells us not to judge. God does not operate in the world of “deserve,” and we should be spending every waking moment thanking Him that He does not because if God gave us what we “deserved,” we would be in Hell.

“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.” Matthew 5:5

“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.” Matthew 5:7

Those two values are habitually ignored and dropped when convenient: meekness, and mercy. Part of the reason they are so readily overlooked is that many people do not know what they mean, an issue I will remedy in a moment. However, I fear that even with a sure knowledge of their definitions, we will still be unwilling to put them into practice.

Meekness: is a virtuous lack of pride and concern of oneself and a patience for burdens put upon you. 

Mercy, as Pope Francis puts it, is “love that responds to a human need in an unexpected or unmerited way.” 

What do meekness and mercy have to do with each other? To meet a human need, or have mercy upon someone, we need to be able to get over ourselves, which is meekness. In other words, if I am to see the other, I cannot be putting a mirror between me and them. Mercy needs meekness, and meekness is naturally followed by mercy. Meekness is a love past ourselves, and mercy is a love for the other.

While “get over yourself” is a value mostly taught in churches and sports teams today and is not an admonition that would ever find its way onto a secular university campus or in the office of a high school guidance counselor, it is essential for human love and the only way we can practice it in large ways is by practicing it in small ones. So, if you are someone who struggles with pride (as I’m sure we all do to some degree), try to not have too high of an opinion of yourself. As Saint Paul tells us, if we are to boast in anything, it should be in our weaknesses so that Christ’s power may rest in us (2 Corinthians 2:9). To do this, it is essential that we learn to laugh at ourselves and to not see ourselves as worthy of honor except in the inherent value we have as God’s children.

A similar principal has to be applied for mercy. In my experience, gossip, among Christians, is one of the more winked at sins, to the point to where it has become a stereotype of church-going people and we should not underestimate our ability to justify within ourselves the degradation of the names of others. This is a complete reversal of the attitude that Saint Francis of Assisi, who stated, “The sin of detraction (gossip) is the impediment to the very source of piety and grace; it is abominable in the sight of God, because the detractor feeds on the blood of the souls which he has murdered with the sword of his tongue.”

 But not murdering someone with the sword of our tongues is the minimum to mercy. Maybe there’s someone who you see is struggling, or lonely, or widely considered to be obnoxious. I can think of a few. Put yourself out there for them. Don’t just be nice to them, that is setting the bar too low. Go out of your way to show them kindness and friendliness, not in a self-righteous way but in a way that genuinely desires their good. Be Jesus to them.

With that being said, who else is there that needs our mercy that cannot give back any kindness we give to them and who are seen as lower? The poor.

A few months ago I was on a run. I was in my final stretch, a mile which seemed measlier in that moment than even the first mile had. I was not quite on a “runners high” but I was close. And then I saw a woman in a wheelchair call out to me. I couldn’t hear what she said as I had headphones on.  I knew if I stopped, my time would suffer, and I don’t carry money on me when I run anyway. So, I responded, without listening to what she said: “I don’t have any money, sorry.” And then a few seconds later, I had to stop, scold myself for claiming to be a missionary, and turn around. Turns out, her name was Karen (I’m not making that up). All she wanted was for me to push her across the street. 

Something to remember, we are not limited to the ways we might think of when we are helping the poor. In our materialist mentalities, we think that our money and tangible resources are all we have to offer the poor (and we should indeed be offering that to them). But one of the most valuable and heartbreaking things I’ve ever learned is that homeless people can go months at a time without ever hearing their name. So now, when I give to them, I always try to have a short conversation with them, at the very least learn their names. These conversations are usually awkward. Have the meekness to endure the awkwardness.

Sometimes, they might even get mad at you for trying to help, or for not giving enough. Have the mercy to give what they will accept. Jesus does that for us all the time.

So, when you do come across them, if it’s not a matter of safety or beyond your means, learn what they need, give to them, ask them their names, shake their hands. For many of them, it means the world for them. And plus, a conversation can reveal what they really need from you, the greatest measure of mercy you can give to them.

Think about your greatest sin. If you are alone while reading this, speak it out loud, otherwise speak it clearly in your heart. It can either be the sin you have to bring to Reconciliation every time you go, or maybe it’s a single instant that you think is the worst thing you have ever done. Take a moment.

One day, you have been caught committing that sin. Everyone now knows about your sin, and that sin is now what defines you as you are dragged by both arms ahead of a crowd for your judgment. The crowd is angry and they are shouting “kill him,” or “kill her!” You’re being dragged outside in hot desert sand. You tried on stay on your two feet, but you were being pulled too hard, and struck in the back. Now your knees scrape against the sand and the gravel. It hurts. It’s the same sort of pain as a rug burn, but only so much worse as your skin is torn away layer at a time. Your captors are taking no care for you not to strike knees or foot on passing boulders. 

Finally, they bring you to the place. You notice that many had picked up rocks along the way. You know this is the place you are to be stoned to death. If you’re in pain now, it fades even at the thought of getting punched many times by fists of rock, and you’re only hope of mercy is someone will hit you in the head right and early so you don’t have to feel the pain for long.

They throw you at the feet of your judge. Your arms have gone numb from being gripped and dragged so hard and you can’t catch yourself as your face hits the ground. As you gather your senses, you see a pair of sandals in front of you, and you look up and you see a man. The sun blinds you from making out his features, but you know He must be important since the crowd has deemed him judge.

“What are we going to do with this person?” an ugly voice in the crowd asks. You can practically hear him tossing his stone up and catching it in his hand. But the strange thing is that the ugly voice doesn’t seem to like the judge very much.

The man doesn’t respond. He just walks around you, carefully so as not to step on you as He puts Himself between you and the crowd. You turn around and see Him writing in the sand. The crowd seems as puzzled as you are. The minute of writing seems to go on for hours, before He stops, looks up, and says to the crowd: “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.” 

You look at the crowd, wondering from which way the first stone will fly. But you never see one coming. You never feel one strike your face. And then, like water in a filter, you see the mob slowly dissolve into a group. The group throws down their stones in frustration and they turn away.

With the threat gone, the man turns towards you, and gently brings you to your feet. Your nightmare now feels more like a confusing dream. But as you stand on your own two feet (after you thought you would never do so again), you realize this is all too real. Finally, you’re able to look into the eyes of your rescuer, and you’re startled to see the love behind those brown eyes.

“Have they not condemned you?” he asks. All you can do is shake your head.

“Neither do I condemn you,” He says, “go out and sin no more.”

Days pass, and that turns into weeks. For a few days, you did as the man said. You really tried to avoid sin, but then you found yourself doing the same sin anyway. Sure, you are pained by the protest of your soul from when you do so, but you just loved your sin so much that it has become a habit.

Then, you see a crowd of people gathered. They seem as angry as the crowd that dragged you not too long ago, but the anger is not directed at you. You follow the crowd and you see what the spectacle is. It’s a man, bloodied beyond recognition. Then you hear someone in the crowd say who he is, it’s the same man who rescued you. The same man who told you to no longer sin.

Then, the crowd chants, “Kill Him! Kill Him! Kill Him!” You don’t join in for a second. But then you think about the man not as your rescuer, but as the reason you have that voice in your heart groaning every time you do what you love to do. You realize, you love your sin more than you love Him. The energy in the crowd is like that of a sea in a storm and you soon find yourself becoming like another crashing wave as you add your voice to the caucophony: “KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!”

Hours pass with you watching Him struggle and fall under the weight of the cross. You push the voice inside you down as you keep cheering for His death. You look away and don’t think about the suffering He must be experiencing. 

Then, as He’s on the cross, being held in place by nails through his wrists and feet. The soft features torn off his face. He not only did not look like Himself anymore, He is barely recognizable as human.

“FATHER!” he shouts, “forgive them.”

The voices fade around You. And then, you realize He is looking right at you. His brown eyes reddened but losing none of their love. Even in the midst of all His pain, He recognizes you. “Forgive them,” he says again, but all you hear is, “I forgive you.”

Meekness: a virtuous lack of pride and concern of oneself and a patience for burdens put upon you. 

Jesus shows us the ultimate form of meekness as He came down to us in the form of man. And not just that, but a man who endured one of the most humiliating and painful deaths ever. He uncomplainingly took on the burden of the cross, but also the burdens of ministry and rejection, and betrayal.

And in that meekness, He showed the ultimate form of mercy: “love that responds to a human need in an unexpected or unmerited way.” He responded to our human need of salvation, even though we didn’t and don’t deserve it. And He continues to show us mercy as He forgives us again and again.

Jesus didn’t tell us to love others as much they deserve, He told us to love them as ourselves. And while we may not deserve God’s love, He has deemed each and every one of us worth loving. So, who are we to do any different for each other?