I flopped into the hard metal folding chair with a happy sigh, weary, but unwilling to call it a day.
The wedding was over and it was time to leave the reception venue, but my friends and I were reluctant to part ways. Young people from the Midwest were in the area for the weekend; we wanted to make the most of every minute we had.
“Let’s go to Pizza Hut,” someone suggested.
My heart sank. What should I do? What should I say? I was not ever allowed to eat at an establishment that served alcohol. My dad had a hard and fast rule about that.
I stood silent, hoping desperately that someone would come up with another option. I could not tell my friends about my dad’s stupid “Pizza Hut” rule! What would they think?
Apparently, no one else had a dad who thought like mine and Pizza Hut was the place to go, so I hopped into the vehicle and went along with the crowd. Maybe my dad would never know.
The rest of the day wasn’t as enjoyable as it could have been, but I managed to stifle my conscience and join in the laughter and conversation going on around me. When the evening ended, I made my way back home, creeping quietly into the house just before curfew, hoping everyone was in bed.
My wish was granted.
Next morning, my dad, knowing how much I had been looking forward to the day with my friends, and never suspecting that I would disobey his rules, inquired about my evening activities.
“Where did you go to eat?” he asked innocently.
My heart dropped to my toes. Why did he have to ask that?
“Pizza Hut,” I murmured, my head dropping.
Then quickly, “The others wanted to go, and I was riding with them. What was I supposed to do?”
I felt my dad’s eyes boring through my dropped eyelids. I knew I was in trouble. I had directly disobeyed him. I deserved whatever punishment he meted out. I knew that.
I waited, miserable.
The silence lengthened and I dared to lift my eyes to meet his. There was no anger, only an expression of keen disappointment, which was so much worse.
When he finally spoke, his words surprised me.
“You know I don’t want you to eat at places like Pizza Hut, but I won’t say you can’t go. I’d prefer if you didn’t, but from now on it is your choice.”
And that was that.
No punishment.
No anger.
No demands.
Only tender-hearted mercy.
His words to me that day were the best he could have chosen.
I never went to another Pizza Hut again while under his roof even though I was free to do so.
I wouldn’t go because I didn’t want to disappoint my dad.
There is something about a tenderhearted kind of mercy that calls forth a response of undivided loyalty from the one being pardoned.
My dad’s mercy did what a punishment could never do.
He won my undivided loyalty that day.
In my quiet time, I came across a verse that brought this long-ago incident to mind. The apostle Paul was instructing the believers in Colosse to extend this same principle.
“Since God chose you to be the holy people He loves, you must clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy…” Colossians 3:12
God calls each of us to exhibit this kind of mercy to others, because tenderhearted mercy (also translated as compassion) will build relationships, not tear them down. It will foster loyalty between believers. It will graciously extend forgiveness to all.
And the people of this world will be confused because they don’t understand this one important thing.
Mercy showcases the heart of God in our lives.
I’m so thankful my dad was wearing his coat of tenderhearted mercy when I needed it! I hope I remember to wear mine every day so that it is in place when I need to extend compassion to another!
That way I won’t disappoint my Heavenly Dad either.