What does it mean to love mercy?

A couple years ago I was impatiently waiting for my allergy appointment, when I was suddenly irritated by a loud commotion. Two young teenage girls came bustling in—with no parents. It’s a small waiting area, filled with clean-cut, corn-fed, American families, so what drew our attention first was their outfits. The quiet one’s outfit was fairly plain, and only a tad scanty. But the other was really going for it. She was of the “Goth” type, her outfit mostly black, pale skin, dark mascara—you’ve seen her type before. She had piercings on places that I didn’t know they allowed piercings. Her skirt was hiked up and her black boots said “don’t mess with me.” She appeared to have a permanent snarl on her face.

The other thing that was hard not to notice is that as they walked in, they were proudly holding hands while conspicuously fawning all over each other. In this family-friendly, York County waiting room, It was immediately scandalous. (*Gasps* from the crowd.)

The Goth one talked brazenly at the receptionist through the glass window that divided them. It wasn’t the only thing that divided them. The receptionist was in no mood, and she went toe to toe with the attitude. Within minutes, everyone in the room knew the whole sordid story of how Goth girl did not have a way to pay for her allergy shot. Her mom usually did that, she argued, and her mom wasn’t there.

Goth girl and her quiet friend sat wounded after the exchange, wondering what to do next, and punching digits into their cell phones.

Then it was my turn at the window.

“How much is my visit today?” I asked. She told me. “How much does the young lady owe?” She told me. “I’d like to pay for her too.” Awkward silence. Then finally with a look that could only be described as utter contempt she said, “If you want to be guilty of aiding and abetting her, be my guest!” (More *gasps* from the crowd.) Now, I wasn’t exactly sure what I was “aiding and abetting”. Was it the way Goth was dressed? The fact that she was gay? Her angry attitude toward the world? Or was it something else? Truth is, it was a very small amount of money. I was not any great saint for paying it. I was simply trying to, in some small way, follow the rule of mercy found in Matthew 18:21-35.

A few insights came to me from this event. I realized that for every one time I show mercy to someone, I probably miss 20 other opportunities. I also realized that when we show mercy, even in simple ways, we will not always be popular for it. But most importantly, in each of these moments that life offers, we get to be more like Jesus. And isn’t that worth it?