Trophies of His Mercy [Glorious Fast - Part III]

"...to undo the heavy burdens..."

Undo.
I love that word.

I love that word.

Schoolmaster holds up a bony finger and rants of paradises lost. Of opportunities wasted. Of moments, talents, thrown to the wind. Or worse.
Of the train of mistakes so long it takes an army of engines to pull them.
And that army of engines is me.
(And so, we get nowhere.)

Of the crushing weight of another failure.
Another moment I regret the second it is gone.
Of the shame that no one can understand because they know nothing of its source...

Schoolmaster's voice shrieks this madness,
this madness that is real,
and I cover. cower. cry.

And then in the midst of this shower of burning brimstone a hand is raised.
And teacher's tirade ceases on a goldfish-gulp of air, for sheer shock that someone might want to speak...
And the voice is quiet, but it is as solid as a rock.

"Is there no way to undo?"

"Un-DO?!"

-  -  -  -  -

Grace.
I love that word too...

And it does undo.
The Hebrew word means more than just to untie one's shoelaces.

It means to utterly confound, baffle, unravel...

I know.
I know, in the present-progressive.
Because I pace too, lion-like. Fists doubled up. Star-studded blackness outside french doors to bookshelf, and back.
And I dry my eyes, drop exhausted. Only to cry some more.
And I whisper--

"He restoreth my soul... He restoreth my soul..."

I have heard it said that "There is more mercy in Christ than sin in us."*

I believe it.
Yes, there is a way to undo.

Oh, but schoolmaster shrieks again that the scars will always remain.

Yes. And even scars are trophies of His mercy--
A scar is infinitely better than an eternally open wound.

Thank you Jesus.

-  -  -  -  -

And so the soldier gets up from his face forgiven. Again.
Pure. again.

But only as he remembers what he himself has learned on his face will he be qualified to help undo burdens himself.

This is why we must never forget...

Be thou merciful. 

*Richard Sibbes