Mercy in the Winter

Sometime ago, I read a Pastor's article about God's justice. He compared it to a harsh winter in the Midwest--fierce, cold, and beautiful all at the same time. I struggled with his comparison and was left somewhat empty, yet feeling the truth at least in part, in his description. 

We moved to the Midwest last year from New England. I have gained a new understanding of a bleak, barren, unbreakable landscape, of miles and miles of empty, open fields whose crops have been harvested and whose surface has been stiffened and stilled by fallen snow. 

I have felt the loneliness and desolation that comes from looking only at that landscape, of dwelling only upon the justice of God, real as it is--of standing in the wind and feeling the cold creep into my bones, remembering the coziness of a New England winter, and longing for light and longer days. 

We've been experiencing temperatures dipping below zero this week (and it is not even technically winter yet). The birds at our feeder are hungry, thankful for the seeds that come easily. The deer and turkeys have come out of hiding, searching for food in all of this white stone stillness. 

I've been pondering that description of God's justice that I mentioned earlier, now that I am experiencing winter in the Midwest for myself. 

And I keep coming back to this truth that I hold near and close in my heart--the truth that sustains me through the cold and gives me hope.--

That His mercy is just as real as His justice--and that the two cannot be separated. 

And I see mercy all around--

Mercy in vast cornfields, their leftover fragments feeding hungry deer . . .

Mercy in birds nests, alone in the barren trees--reminders of the hope of spring--of life coming -even on the coldest days of winter . . .

Mercy in watching the tiny sparrow that the Lord keeps alive day after day--so weak it can barely stand at our feeder to eat--and yet, every morning, there he is . . . 

Mercy in the warmth of Christian brothers and sisters--their love in Him stronger than the grip of winter.  Mercy in their fellowship and kindness.

Mercy in the beauty of a sunrise stretching like a band of fire across the frozen sky. 

Mercy beneath the brittle ground, life buried there in the fallen seeds, waiting, hoping, ready to burst with breath when warmer days come. 

Mercy. 

And mercy will ultimately bury justice deep--place the white lilies of resurrection over its grave and laugh into glory.

Laugh into spring.

Laugh into eternity and song and light and warmth and hope. 

I want to share this story that I have shared before--because it is one that always deeply touches me--one that reminds me of our loving Heavenly Father's care--and one that reminds me--

That in Him there is always mercy--for those who run beneath His covering for shelter--

I read a story, a long time ago now, about a naturalist who was documenting the survival of a flock of juncos (snowbirds) in a harsh winter. She was to record what happened to the juncos over the course of an extremely cold night in blizzard conditions. The temperature dipped well below freezing and the little birds were fighting for their survival. She was not allowed to intervene in any way while she was documenting over the course of the assigned hours. 

The woman struggled not to intervene as she watched the little birds. One junco especially caught her attention; he seemed weaker than the rest. The wind howled and the night grew dark. The little flock flew into a bush as the snow fell hard and deep. The woman felt overwhelmed and finally went to bed, despairing of what would happen to them, especially the weak little junco who had gained her sympathy.

In the morning she flew to the window and beheld the world covered in a thick encrusting of snow. She felt that the juncos could not have survived such conditions until, all of a sudden, the bush where they had flown into the night before, covered completely in a thick layer of snow,  literally burst open. 

The snow from the blizzard had actually kept them warm, provided them a shelter from the frigid cold and preserved their lives. The snow that appeared to be the enemy had actually given them protection and warmth in the midst of the storm. It had been their salvation. (The woman records that then she joyfully threw out handfuls of seed to the birds; she was no longer recording and was so glad that they had survived, especially the weak little junco). 

And I have come to conclude that there is beauty in God's justice only because it is undergirded with mercy. For a just God alone would be a terrible God--and I borrow this thought from (I believe) George MacDonald--one to be feared but not loved. 

But He is not just only; He is a Father of mercy. Light in the winter, shelter in the blizzard, warmth on the coldest day. 

And He will give mercy to anyone who runs to Him for rest. 

And now I can see beauty here, in the unbreakable winter--

The winter broken by the breath of His love. 

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Blessed Christmas, dear friends! May your day be filled with the hope of His mercy and may the year before you be shadowed by His love, provision, and grace. I am thankful for each one of you--for your encouragement, for your thoughts, for your love. 

~~Rebekah
In Him was light and that life was the light of men. John 1:4

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