A Sermon About Mercy

There was once a man, who going on his way encountered a Mountain Lion, who fixed its jaws around his wrist. And the man struggled with it for minutes, and finally killed the beast by placing his foot upon its neck, and strangling its life out of it.

After retelling this encounter, the man wasn't pleased at what he had done. There wasn't fear, but rather a tender heart for the creature, that he had just killed a living animal, and that it was his life or the beast's. That the animal's life to him was that of a man's.

I think about this today, that when we go into battle like Samson, we don't immediately boast of our victories. As the lion is defeated, with honey in its chest, and we take and eat, and say "What is sweeter than honey, and stronger than a lion?"

Only compassion and mercy can do such a feat. The lion is out for blood, and the merciful warrior, the David, slays it without thinking to himself, "I now have a great victory of which to boast, and a great tooth in my belt, that I can show to all. I had slain the beast."

Rather, David says, "I had killed a beast, and it had the life of an animal, and was but an animals, and I slayed it with my spear, but I still, have mercy on this thing. For it is alive, and though violent and treacherous in all its ways, I still take no pleasure in killing it. Even when recalling it to many idle men, I don't champion it, or make it into my victory, for I had not wanted to kill the creature. It is not a good thing, by which I had done, but rather a necessity. And I mourn for it."