Love and Mercy

If someone asked you to describe what God wants from us, how would you answer?

Many people would probably begin with rules. God wants us to be good. God wants us to obey. God wants us to do the right thing. Others might talk about worship. God wants us to pray, attend church, sing hymns, and participate in religious life.

There is some truth in all of that. But the readings for today point us somewhere deeper.

Again and again, Scripture pulls us beneath the surface of religion and asks a more fundamental question: What kind of relationship does God actually desire with us?

The prophet Hosea gives us one of the most beautiful answers in all of Scripture. Speaking on God’s behalf, he says, “For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.” Steadfast love. Not occasional love. Not convenient love. Not love when things are going well and abandonment when they are not. Steadfast love means faithful love, committed love, devoted love—the kind of love that keeps showing up. That is what God desires.

The context matters here. Israel had become very religious. They were making sacrifices. They were performing rituals. They were going through all the proper motions. But they were not actually trusting God. Instead, they were placing their hope in political alliances, military power, and worldly strength. In other words, they were saying one thing with their lips while trusting something entirely different with their hearts.

It’s tempting to think we have moved beyond that. But have we? Thousands of years later, nations still place their faith in military power. We still assume that security comes through domination. We still imagine that more wealth, more weapons, more control, and more influence will somehow save us. Yet the world remains filled with war, poverty, suffering, and fear.

The human story has not changed all that much. And neither has God’s invitation. God continues to ask the same question: Where is your trust?

The psalm gives us a fascinating picture of God. The people assume God is upset because they have not performed the sacrifices correctly. But God surprises them. “I do not accuse you concerning your sacrifices,” God says. “Your burnt offerings are continually before me.” In other words, “I see your sacrifices. That’s not the problem.” The problem is that their hearts have drifted.

Biblical scholar Melinda Quivik writes that God is “agonized over the fickle nature of the people’s love.” I find that phrase deeply moving. God is agonized. Not angry in the sense of a distant ruler whose ego has been bruised. Not detached. Not indifferent. Agonized. God suffers over the suffering of the world. God feels the heartbreak of broken relationships. God feels the pain of our wandering.

God is not an observer standing outside life. God is intimately involved in it.

That is one of the most beautiful truths of our faith. God’s heart is affected by what happens here.

We see that same divine compassion embodied in Jesus. Jesus walks directly into places respectable religion avoids. He sees Matthew, a tax collector, someone many would have dismissed as corrupt and unworthy, and says simply, “Follow me.” Then he sits down and eats with tax collectors and sinners. Predictably, the religious authorities are scandalized. Why would a holy person associate with people like that?

Jesus responds, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.” Then he quotes Hosea: “Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’” It’s fascinating that Jesus slightly changes Hosea’s wording. Hosea says steadfast love. Jesus says mercy. Perhaps in Jesus’ mind they are inseparable.

What is mercy if not steadfast love expressed toward human weakness? What is steadfast love if not the refusal to give up on someone when they fail?

Mercy is what steadfast love looks like in action.

And that is exactly how Jesus lives. Everything he does flows from love and mercy. Notice something else. Jesus does not say, “Worship me.” He says, “Follow me.” Follow this way of living. Follow this way of loving. Follow this way of extending mercy. Follow this way of trusting God.

That brings us to Abraham. Paul reminds us that Abraham’s relationship with God was established long before the law existed. The covenant was not based on rule-keeping. It was based on trust.

Abraham was given an impossible promise. He would have descendants as numerous as the stars, despite being far beyond the age when such a thing seemed biologically possible. According to the world’s calculations, the story was over. According to God, it was just beginning. And Abraham trusted. Not perfectly. Not without questions. Not without moments of doubt. But he kept returning to trust. He kept showing up. His love remained steadfast.

Perhaps that is what faith really is. Not certainty. Not having all the answers. Not flawless belief.

Faith is the willingness to keep showing up in relationship with God.

It is trusting that love is stronger than fear, that mercy is stronger than judgment, and that God’s future is larger than our limitations.

People sometimes say that the church is a hospital for sinners. I think that’s right. The church is not a country club for the spiritually successful. It is a place where imperfect people come seeking healing. A place where wounded people learn to trust again. A place where mercy is practiced and received.

We live in a world that often seems overwhelmed by violence, division, fear, and loneliness. Sometimes the problems seem so large that we don’t know where to begin.

The late Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys captured this beautifully in his song Love and Mercy. (see video below) He sings about watching the violence of the world, hearing troubling news reports, seeing the loneliness of people gathered in a bar, and then repeating the same simple refrain:

“Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight.”

As I reflected on today’s readings, I realized that could almost be a summary of the entire message. Hosea says God desires steadfast love. The Psalm tells us God wants grateful hearts more than sacrifices. Abraham shows us what trusting love looks like. Jesus walks straight into the lives of sinners and offers mercy instead of condemnation.

Love and mercy. Or in the language of today’s readings: steadfast love and mercy.

Perhaps that’s what God has wanted all along—not perfect performance, not flawless belief, not religious achievement, but hearts that learn to trust, hearts that learn to love, and lives that become channels of mercy for others.

Because in a hurting world, that’s still what we need tonight. Love and mercy. For us, for our neighbors, and for the whole world.