It has been very gloomy around here for the past few days. Cold for this time of year, low gray clouds, blustery breezes and rain showers broken only by a constant swirling mist.
When I ran yesterday, the mist covered over my glasses. It happened again when I ran from the parking lot into the grocery. It happened again when I went into the bank. I couldn’t drive without the windshield wipers on.
At first that was aggravating.
But then I heard Jesus whispering.
The mist is composed of thousands, maybe billions, of tiny droplets of moisture. When I walk or run through the mist, my whole body is saturated by those droplets. I’m completely covered by the mist. There’s no escaping it.
The Lord says that his steadfast love never ceases, that his mercies never end and arrive new every morning. (Lamentations 3:22-23). God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” is “the Father of all mercies and God of all comfort.” (2 Cor.1:3) His “goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life” (Ps.23:6)—including this one.
In other words, real, concrete, definite expressions of my Father’s kindness touch my life every day. None of it is deserved. It blows all over my messy, unspiritual, confused, not-together, often faith-challenged self. There’s no escaping it. These mercies from the Father’s heart are outrageously, mind-bogglingly generous.
Back to the mist and Jesus’ whispers. What if, instead of being aggravated, I greet every speck of mist that crosses my vision as a reminder of some aspect of my Father’s mercies? There’s no way around them and no way to count them all.
All my days are lived in this atmosphere. I’m saturated in His mercy in a billion ways every single day. Most of the mercies I rarely see. I may even try to look around them–but that doesn’t make them less real. All my ordinary days–including the moments that make Jesus smile and the ones I wish He’d never see –are awash in my Father’s mercy.
So, tomorrow when I look at the world through my mist-covered glasses, I’ll be looking at everything through the Mercy—and I’ll smile.