Tender

It is a dark time of year: with the days growing shorter and the skies often grey, it can seem as if there is very little light around at all. It is no wonder that we want to brighten up our lives with Christmas lights, whatever we may feel about increasingly early decorations. It also makes it a good time of year to focus on the Benedictus (Luke 1:67-79), and especially the last few verses. It is easy to become so used to certain parts of the Bible that we really do not hear what they are saying. Reading the Benedictus recently, I was struck by two words: ‘tender mercy’.

While it was those two words that struck me, it was in context: it is the tender mercy of our God that Zachariah is talking. I wonder how often we think about God’s mercy as being tender? There are so many false images of God floating about, and the idea of God as judge is a popular one. We could call it the thunder-bolt god: a god who is watching and ready to condemn us for the slightest infraction. Too many … and the thunder-bolts are sent down. We may know that this is not true; we may know that we worship a God of love; we may know that this is a caricature. But so often it is those simplistic images of God that we do believe in, deep down, under all the layers, where those images may have been learnt in childhood, almost without anyone realising. It can be that, ultimately, this is the god we follow. It may not be, but it is worth stopping to ponder and pray about this.

Our God is a God of tender mercy; a God who forgives, a God who judges, a God who does not ignore our sin, or when we go astray. But a God who responds to that with tender mercy. I have an image of sitting by the bedside of someone who was dying; someone who had followed God faithfully all her life; someone who knew that God loved her. But someone who also struggled with the idea of a judging God. She was unconscious while I was with her, so I cannot know how she felt, but I remember thinking that she would be so scared if that image won out: the image of the god who judged her. But I knew that she was going to a God who loved her, to the God of tender mercy, who would love and heal her. It is so easy to know superficially that God loves us, but that knowledge does not always sink deeper, become an essential part of us, often because of that underlying, and very potent, image of a thunder-bolt god.

The issue is stronger because God is our judge; we have so many negative images of that word that we then associate with God. But it is vital to remember, to know, that the God who is our judge is also the God who is full of tender mercy. It is not either/or; it is not that God takes off the ‘tender mercy’ hat in order to put the ‘judge’ hat on. It is that God judges us with tender mercy; God deals with the problems sin causes with tender mercy; he gives light to those in darkness and guides into the way of peace with tender mercy. Tender mercy is part of who God is, and this time of year seems an appropriate one to start to allow that fact to become part of us, to inhabit us, to start to shine in those darker areas of our lives, where false images of God dwell.

In some ways, that could be quite dangerous. It will affect more than just our faith and how we relate to God. Reading all of verses 76-79 should make this clear. It is John the Baptist who goes before God to prepare the way, but once we are aware of the full tender mercy of God, there may well be ways in which we are called to prepare the way also. To give knowledge of salvation to those who are unaware; to show God’s forgiveness to those who struggle in their sin; to give light to those who dwell in darkness and in the shadow of death; to guide people in the ways of peace. However that might look for us in our own individual contexts. If we are to fully follow the God of tender mercy, it will change us, and how we relate to those around us.

To become truly aware of God’s tender mercy for us moves us forward in Luke a few chapters. Read Luke 5:27-32. Levi, as a tax collector, was classed as a ‘sinner’. Jesus calls him to follow, and he leaves everything to do so. What did it mean for Levi to leave everything? He goes on to create a feast for Jesus, and many others, in his house, so he does not seem to have given everything away. Still, he leaves everything and followed Jesus. What about us? Have we left everything to follow Jesus? What are we still holding onto? What prevents us from leaving everything to follow our Lord, who treats us with tender compassion, and gave everything to bring us back? Can we spend some time praying to the God of tender mercy to deepen our faith, and help us to commit totally? Are we willing to spend the time, and take the risk, of upturning those false images, and start to know who God really is? Can we allow ourselves to be held by the God of tender mercy … and, in turn, to treat others with the same tender mercy that we have received?