Endless Mercy

This past weekend Judah and I had the immense privilege of witnessing our five-year-old daughter surrender her life to the Lord.

She is our third child to choose to follow Him, and the awe of this mysterious reality always lingers in my heart for days afterward. God has been so gracious each time to confirm that their profession is truly prompted by His Spirit, whether through others or through the change we personally witness in them. Encapsulating the joy into words is too great a feat. 

I had a few minutes of solitude in my car the following day—long enough for some focused time in prayer. I was expressing my gratitude to the Lord for His work in my daughter’s life, and I was confessing and lamenting the countless ways I’ve fallen short as a parent. As I felt the weight of my sin, a thought came over me like a dark cloud:

I don’t deserve my children’s salvation. 

But almost as soon as that thought came, the glorious truth I cling to rushed in and overpowered it. I cannot earn my children’s salvation any more than I can earn my own. 

It’s all grace. It’s all mercy. 

This is why Jesus’s sacrifice on our behalf is so great. This is why we rejoice. This is how we know what love really is (1 John 3:16). And God uses our failings and shortcomings to bring us back to the beautiful reality of the Gospel—His undeserved love that He lavishes so abundantly on us.

Earlier that evening in the midst of dinner prep I’d sat down at the piano, which isn’t uncommon. It’s often the time of day when I need to let out some pent-up emotion, and worship is the perfect outlet for this. Usually my kiddos just run happily around me, giggle and bang a few keys on the lowest octaves, or maybe beg me for another snack. But this day was different. My five-year-old started singing along with me—singing with all her heart. When I was done she asked me to play another one, then another, and yet another. Her eyes shone as her soul resonated with lyrics she’d heard many times. It was stunning. We sang about God’s amazing grace, His mercy and kindness, His love and power. Together we worshiped the God whose salvation neither of us deserve, but that we both accept with humble gratitude. It was one of the sweetest moments I’ve ever had with her. 

God has used the salvation of my children to remind me of the Gospel that will never grow old, but that too often loses its wonder in my mind’s eye. What a gift that, in a world filled with evil and upheaval, God is quietly revealing that He is at work in the lives of those most precious to me.

I’m brought back to the reality of what Christ has done on our behalf, simple enough for a child to grasp, yet so profound we’ll never understand the half of it (at least not this side of heaven). For me—this naturally works-driven person—it is such a grace for the Lord to reveal again and again that there is nothing I have done or can do to contribute to my salvation or to that of those I love. And yet, He takes my feeble obedience, undergirds and infuses it with His mighty grace, and allows me the privilege of being a part of His redemption story in the lives of my children. He’s given me the privilege of laboring on their behalf day-in and day-out, discipling them through my words and actions. My obedience matters—it matters immensely that I live by grace what I say I believe. But it’s all from, through, and unto Jesus. Apart from Him I can do nothing (John 15). 

I don’t know what the future will bring for my kids. God alone holds them and their life stories in His hands. But today I wholeheartedly rejoice that they’ve caught a glimpse of His beauty.
That He is desirous to them.
That, in the childlike faith that Jesus praises, they’ve come to Him in their need.
And He doesn’t turn them away—that He doesn’t turn anyone away who comes to Him in faith.

Lord, may I never lose the wonder of your mercy.

Your friend,

I’ve had the lyrics of this song running through my mind (if you hadn’t already guessed), and wanted to share it here, too.

Mercy, by Matt Redman

I will kneel in the dust
At the foot of the cross,
Where mercy paid for me.
Where the wrath I deserve,
It is gone, it has passed.
Your blood has hidden me.

Mercy, mercy,
As endless as the sea.
I’ll sing Your hallelujah
For all eternity.

We will lift up the cup
And the bread we will break,
Remembering Your love.
We were fallen from grace,
But You took on our shame
And nailed it to a cross.

Mercy, mercy,
As endless as the sea.
I’ll sing Your hallelujah
For all eternity.

May I never lose the wonder,
Oh, the wonder of Your mercy.
May I sing Your hallelujah.
Hallelujah, Amen.