Out of the depths I cry to You, O Lord! O Lord, hear my voice! Let Your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy! If You, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand? (Verses 1-3)
Mercy. Not getting what you deserve, but instead receiving kindness, benevolence, pity or forebearance from someone you have deeply wronged. It's just not a natural response!
"In twenty years, I've watched tragedy unfold in this courtroom," said Miami Circuit Court Judge Venzer last week. "I could never have imagined a mother embracing her child's killer." But that's just what Ady Guzman-De Jesus did after the court sentence the sixteen-year-old defendant, Jordyn Howe to a year of detention in juvenile court for the accidental shooting death of her daughter, Lourdes. Two years ago, when her daughter was thirteen, Jordyn took out his step-father's shotgun on the school bus where it was showing it to some other kids on the bus. It discharged, killing Lourdes, who was sitting beside her little sister. Two weeks later, Lourdes's father committed suicide. Unable to deal with the horrific loss of his child. In the ensuing months, Ady pressed for a lighter sentence for Jordyn than the court allowed. "It's what Lourdes would have wanted me to do," she said. So on the day of sentencing, Judge Venzer sentenced Jordyn to one year in juvenile detention instead of twenty-two months in prison.
Jordyn held back tears as he said, "I'm really sorry for your loss." Lourdes had been his friend.
Ady's tears flowed as she watched Jordyn walk her direction, stand in front of her and reach his arms out hesitantly toward her. She was sitting beside her lawyer who stood with her as she embraced the young man who had killed her daughter and caused the suicide of her child's father. The camera angle shows her patting his back, sobbing into the shoulder of his blue polo shirt.
What caught my attention was the look on the lawyer's face. I even played it in slow motion to get the affect. Why? Because it's what everyone in the courtroom was thinking. Who does this? He was at once shocked, disgusted and moved. Mercy catches us completely off-guard.
Gary Ridgeway pleaded guilty to the murders of forty-eight women on December 18, 2003. Angry relatives of many of the women he killed were allowed into the courtroom to address Ridgeway, who seemed to have no real remorse. "They meant nothing to me," he was quoted as saying.
"Your memory may be gone, Mr. Ridgeway," said one of the mothers of a murdered child, "but our memories are not. She meant everything to us."
Gary Ridgeway sat motionless and stoic. Almost as if he hadn't heard her.
"He is an animal! I wish him to have a long, cruel, suffering death!" cried a near-hysteric relative of one of the women.
Ridgeway was unblinking. Blasé, almost.
Then a man approached the microphone. He was wearing a white dress shirt and suspendered trousers. His hair was long and white, combed behind his ears. A scruffy beard lay against the buttons of his shirt. Robert Rule was his name. He took a deep breath. "Mr. Ridgeway...um..., there are people here who hate you." Mr. Rule, composed himself, trying to control the shaking in his voice. "I'm not one of them." He hesitated slightly then went on. "You've made it difficult to live up to what I believe, and that is what God says to do, and that is to forgive." As Gary Ridgeway looked directly into Mr. Rule's face, the man said, "You are forgiven, sir."
The shock of it made Ridgeway grimace, his face contorted in pain. All in a moment before tears fell and he bowed his head and wiped his face. Who does that? Offers mercy? When there is no reason for anything but hate. It's just not natural. And it's perhaps the only thing that really breaks us.
We know we don't deserve grace. Intrinsically we are aware that we are imperfect. Hopefully not to the degree that a young man who shoots his friend is...certainly not to the extent of a man who killed almost fifty women. But we know we don't deserve unconditional love. Not one that overlooks our sin. That's not what these two people did. They gave a thing we don't possess in our own hearts unless we have received it on occasion for ourselves. Mercy received should foster mercy given. Jesus mirrored the heart of God when, right before He died on the cross, drowning in His own blood, the sacrificial offering for our sin, He said, "Father, forgive them. They don't know what they are doing."
If our sins were stacked up against us...if God kept track of them on a ledger...marked them all down...who could stand? It's remarkable, for sure, for a mother to forgive a murderer or a father to absolve the man who tortured his daughter. Isn't it just as remarkable for us to forgive each other for far less? I've seen people carry grudges for years over nothing, really. Fostering hatred that eats away at their own joy. All the while, it's mercy that pricks the heart. Giving mercy means you deserve to feel hate. But you realize Jesus has forgiven you every heinous thing or small because of His great love and grace. How can we accept that mercy and not give it to others?
For judgment is without mercy to one who has shown no mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment. James, the half-brother of Jesus
Mercy. Not getting what you deserve, but instead receiving kindness, benevolence, pity or forebearance from someone you have deeply wronged. It's just not a natural response!
"In twenty years, I've watched tragedy unfold in this courtroom," said Miami Circuit Court Judge Venzer last week. "I could never have imagined a mother embracing her child's killer." But that's just what Ady Guzman-De Jesus did after the court sentence the sixteen-year-old defendant, Jordyn Howe to a year of detention in juvenile court for the accidental shooting death of her daughter, Lourdes. Two years ago, when her daughter was thirteen, Jordyn took out his step-father's shotgun on the school bus where it was showing it to some other kids on the bus. It discharged, killing Lourdes, who was sitting beside her little sister. Two weeks later, Lourdes's father committed suicide. Unable to deal with the horrific loss of his child. In the ensuing months, Ady pressed for a lighter sentence for Jordyn than the court allowed. "It's what Lourdes would have wanted me to do," she said. So on the day of sentencing, Judge Venzer sentenced Jordyn to one year in juvenile detention instead of twenty-two months in prison.
Jordyn held back tears as he said, "I'm really sorry for your loss." Lourdes had been his friend.
Ady's tears flowed as she watched Jordyn walk her direction, stand in front of her and reach his arms out hesitantly toward her. She was sitting beside her lawyer who stood with her as she embraced the young man who had killed her daughter and caused the suicide of her child's father. The camera angle shows her patting his back, sobbing into the shoulder of his blue polo shirt.
What caught my attention was the look on the lawyer's face. I even played it in slow motion to get the affect. Why? Because it's what everyone in the courtroom was thinking. Who does this? He was at once shocked, disgusted and moved. Mercy catches us completely off-guard.
Gary Ridgeway pleaded guilty to the murders of forty-eight women on December 18, 2003. Angry relatives of many of the women he killed were allowed into the courtroom to address Ridgeway, who seemed to have no real remorse. "They meant nothing to me," he was quoted as saying.
"Your memory may be gone, Mr. Ridgeway," said one of the mothers of a murdered child, "but our memories are not. She meant everything to us."
Gary Ridgeway sat motionless and stoic. Almost as if he hadn't heard her.
"He is an animal! I wish him to have a long, cruel, suffering death!" cried a near-hysteric relative of one of the women.
Ridgeway was unblinking. Blasé, almost.
Then a man approached the microphone. He was wearing a white dress shirt and suspendered trousers. His hair was long and white, combed behind his ears. A scruffy beard lay against the buttons of his shirt. Robert Rule was his name. He took a deep breath. "Mr. Ridgeway...um..., there are people here who hate you." Mr. Rule, composed himself, trying to control the shaking in his voice. "I'm not one of them." He hesitated slightly then went on. "You've made it difficult to live up to what I believe, and that is what God says to do, and that is to forgive." As Gary Ridgeway looked directly into Mr. Rule's face, the man said, "You are forgiven, sir."
The shock of it made Ridgeway grimace, his face contorted in pain. All in a moment before tears fell and he bowed his head and wiped his face. Who does that? Offers mercy? When there is no reason for anything but hate. It's just not natural. And it's perhaps the only thing that really breaks us.
We know we don't deserve grace. Intrinsically we are aware that we are imperfect. Hopefully not to the degree that a young man who shoots his friend is...certainly not to the extent of a man who killed almost fifty women. But we know we don't deserve unconditional love. Not one that overlooks our sin. That's not what these two people did. They gave a thing we don't possess in our own hearts unless we have received it on occasion for ourselves. Mercy received should foster mercy given. Jesus mirrored the heart of God when, right before He died on the cross, drowning in His own blood, the sacrificial offering for our sin, He said, "Father, forgive them. They don't know what they are doing."
If our sins were stacked up against us...if God kept track of them on a ledger...marked them all down...who could stand? It's remarkable, for sure, for a mother to forgive a murderer or a father to absolve the man who tortured his daughter. Isn't it just as remarkable for us to forgive each other for far less? I've seen people carry grudges for years over nothing, really. Fostering hatred that eats away at their own joy. All the while, it's mercy that pricks the heart. Giving mercy means you deserve to feel hate. But you realize Jesus has forgiven you every heinous thing or small because of His great love and grace. How can we accept that mercy and not give it to others?
For judgment is without mercy to one who has shown no mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment. James, the half-brother of Jesus
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