I am yet to comprehend God’s mercy.

Even when someone tries to explain it. Even when a story attempts to portray it. Even when I read about it in the Bible, I still struggle to understand the depth to which it flows.

How could God love the world so much? How could He love me? How can I fathom the lengths of love He extended to have a relationship with me?

Why in the world did He who was without sin not cast the first stone at the sinner? He could have. He was the only One who had the right. But He didn’t. Instead He gave mercy.

“Neither do I condemn you.“

But after the words of forgiveness come the challenge.

“Go and sin no more.“

Who can even do that? Go and sin no more? I only wish. In fact, I try. And I fail. Then I feel the shame of not measuring up to the high standard of holiness.

“Be holy for I am holy.”

Woe is me, I am left undone and without hope.

“My power is made perfect in weakness.”

In my weakness, Christ’s power rests on me. His greatness is shown through my frailty. For when I am weak, then I am strong through Him.

“My grace is sufficient for you.”

I am yet to comprehend God’s grace.

Sunday grace.