We’ve all got a part of ourselves we refuse to hand over—the place that says, You don’t get this, Lord. Heading toward Jerusalem, Jesus told a parable about a nobleman whose citizens hated him and sent word: We do not want this man to reign over us. The question is whether that refusal still has the last word.
There’s a blind man sitting by the road outside Jericho in Luke 18, and the crowd wants him to be quiet—he’s an embarrassment, a distraction from something more important. He cries out anyway: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me.” Whatever it is that makes you feel like the person everyone else wants to go away, this passage is for you.
It’s easy to look across the room and thank God we’re not like that person—the failure, the compromiser, the obvious sinner. In Luke 18, Jesus tells a parable to confront such self-righteousness in us.
We often treat sin as a handful of inconsequential debts, so asking God for forgiveness—or forgiving someone else—can feel unnecessary. In Matthew 6:12, Jesus places both debts before us in a single petition: “Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.” Do we understand the balance we have run up?
Sin distorts our ability to understand what God is saying to us and how much we need His mercy.
Sometimes we look at technology as a force opposed to God. But is that what the Bible actually says about about human innovation?
When we find ourselves demanding mercy from God do we see all the mercy He’s already provided? Do we understand the true mercy He’s offering?
When Jesus says that we should get the log out of our own eye before helping someone get a speck out, what does He have in mind? Is He calling us to stop making any moral judgments?
What happens when the rain comes in and it felt like we were following God’s call?
As the body, we’re called to show God’s mercy. Can the world see it?