Justice and Mercy

This one has been done before, hasn't it?

Consider this modern proverb: Patience is an attribute I loathe in the driver ahead of me, but cherish in the driver behind me.

I demand Justice! Well, to be clear, I demand justice for YOU! Cold, calculated justice because YOU need to learn a lesson!

Me? I desire mercy for myself. I assure you that I have learned my lesson. Never mind that a very short span of time from now, like a dog returning to his vomit, I will return to my sin.

I want to judge you. I want to measure you. I want to keep score. I want to point out your flaws and shortcomings. I want to list all the wrongs you have done. Oh yeah, I want to keep that list, too.

But me? Hey, I said I'm sorry. Let's move on.

You said you were sorry too, but I need to see that you mean it. I need you to prove it. But you can take me at my word. I deserve mercy.

You say "Be merciful, just as your Father in Heaven is merciful." I'm not God! I'm not a perfect man! I can't.

You say "forgive them 70 times 7 times when they say they are sorry." Well I assure you, this is the 71st times 7 and I've tried but there are limits.

You say "remove the log from my own eye before I worry about the spec in others' eyes." Come on. There's nothing wrong with my sight.

My heart is covered with the black mold-spores of sin. Everything is upside down and inside out. What I should apply to myself, I apply to you, and what I should give you, I want for myself. I should curb my own tongue, but instead, I want to cut yours out. I am not a perfect man, but I demand perfection from you. I should mortify myself with discipline and self control, but I really want to flog you for every misstep. I should speak firmly and honestly about my own wrongs and gently with humility about others, but I'm all meek about myself and shout with disgust about you.

And I LOVE it.

This is me. This is all of us.

Oh Lord, if You kept records of wrongs, as we do, who could stand? What is man that you are mindful of him?

Why, when Your commands are clear, when we smash them to bits every moment, when we try to push You off Your rightful throne and declare ourselves gods, why since we deserve swift and terrible punishment, do you not destroy us all?

Why, dear Jesus, did you come here? Why did You touch our shit-stained, stinking, filthy humanity and dirty yourself? WHY DID YOU TAKE MY PLACE? WHY DID YOU SUFFER WHAT I CAN'T EVEN COMPREHEND?

Why, Holy Spirit, do you come to me? Why do you continue to work so hard when at every turn I try to undo it?

Thank You, Dear God, that You do. Thank you for Your mercy to me. Please, make me merciful.