Lord Have Mercy

The reverie of our bedtime routine had left a smile on my face and lightness to my step as I left the house and entered the inky darkness of the garden.  I purposely didn’t ask for help from A as I hung diapers on the clothesline, mainly because this was one of my favorite times of day. The boy had gone to bed happily shouting “nigh-night Momma” and blowing a dozen kisses my way as I closed the door to his room after our nightly book reading/pra.ying/snuggling/nursing session. The air was still and quiet. Dogs barked in the distance and strains of wedding music floated on the light breeze. Over the neighbor’s wall, dishes clanked as they sat down to their evening meal. 

A familiar sound caused me to look upward and the silence turned into a deafening rumble.  Four military helicopters flew close overhead, I could just barely make them out by the light of the moon. Without it, they would have been invisible in the night sky. 

In that moment, my heart was once again torn in two.  The reality of this broken world ripped through the peaceful beauty of the evening and I remembered where I was.

“Lord, have mercy.”

The thought escaped from my heart and out my lips before it even had time to register in my brain.

Though I didn’t cognitively think it, I felt it deep within my soul.

Torn between two worlds my heart ached for both. On one hand, I thought of the families back home worried about their loved ones here in the heat of the battle and of those who might not make it back to the camp alive tonight. On the other, I grieved for those who fought for what they so determinedly believed to be right; so blinded by fear and religion and empty promises of righteousness to come. And don’t even get me started on the agony my heart encountered when I thought about the innocent men, women and children who would be caught in the middle of the battle. Their homes and villages bombed and torn apart, terrorized and ransacked by both sides. 

Flesh and blood destroying flesh and blood.

Oh how it makes my heart ache. 

Many days I feel like the woman with bleeding, tugging at the cloak of Jesus in Luke 8.  So overwhelmed with the issues of life around me, all I can do is call out, “Lord have mercy”, as I desperately tug at His cloak. In those moments I hear His words speak deep to my despairing heart with promises like the one a friend reminded me of today: 

In the world you will have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world" (John 16:33). 

The battles will continue to rage and my heart will continue to break, but I trust that His mercy is new every morning.  I rest in the promise that one day He will bring peace to this broken land. 

“Come quickly, Lord Jesus. Have mercy and come”.