Over on the Advent blog, Richard posts a great reminder of one of the foundational verses of Christianity. While it does not explicitly mention Christ, Micah 6:8 positively reeks of the Gospel when talking about mercy. What greater mercy is there than the sacrifice of Jesus Christ for us, miserable offenders that we are?

Like most modernists (I confess, as if it wasn’t obvious already), I’m fond of succinct lists of things to do or not do. Christianity is much more difficult than that, since there is nothing really to “do” and it’s all about a relationship with God almighty.

But there are still lists in the Bible, nods to those of us who crave them, and Micah 6:8 has always been a challenging one to me.

Do justly.
Love mercy.
Walk humbly with my God.

I grew up in fundamentalist circles in which “do justly” was the watchword. Justice cries out insatiably, and every believer is an instrument of God’s justice! And yet I realized later that I hadn’t properly understood the verbs.

I am to do justly. I’m not an instrument of justice, meting out consequences on others. I’m a slave to justice, bound by justice, required to ensure that my own actions are just. My model for doing justly? I immediately think of the wonderful promise on which I rely when confessing our faults: If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9) Far from a license to attack others or to insist on punishment, God’s justice leads to forgiveness and cleansing.

I am to love mercy. For me, because of my background, it is important for me to remember that this isn’t quite the same sort of action verb as “do.” If I love mercy, clearly I will practice it, but more than that, I will be delighted to see it practiced by others, and saddened when it is not. The basis for all of this, of course, is God’s mercy on us through the Cross of Jesus Christ. What better picture of mercy can we find anywhere than that God Himself took the punishment for our crimes, knowing that we could not bear it and live? I love that mercy, because it is that mercy which gives me life. I am dependent on God’s mercy for every breath I draw. How can I ever again be like the man who, forgiven a large debt, attempts to collect his small debt from another? No, I love mercy whenever I see it practiced, and am saddened when it is not. Every year it seems I am pushed harder to extend mercy farther than I had previously thought of doing. Mercy on those who will not practice mercy themselves? Yes, even then.

One of the wonderful ladies over at The Tinklings* recently linked to a story about a preacher who was punched in the face during a sermon, and immediately spoke about forgiveness and kept on preaching. That ability to forgive is a powerful demonstration of mercy, I think.

I am to walk humbly with my God. I struggle with this one the most. Its meaning is less clear to me than the other two instructions. I try to live my life with the constant awareness that I am dependent on Jesus Christ for everything, and still my mind drifts away from that core truth, and I find myself taking pride in “my” accomplishments. The very fact that I can say “my God” is due entirely to His work and His grace and His mercy, none of which I would have been likely to grant another person even if I had the power to do so.

I still don’t fully know how to walk humbly with God, and I make that clear when I insist that I heard my wife say one thing when she claims to have said another. Objectively speaking, she’s probably right. I’m half-deaf and have trouble with background noise anyway, and am often easily distracted to boot. Subjectively speaking, it doesn’t matter if she’s right or not; what’s more important than the words she spoke is the meaning she was attempting to convey, and usually I caught the meaning just fine. But still, on a point of personal pride—which has only gotten worse since my loss of hearing—I’ll argue that she said “X” and not “Y.” My pride is repugnant to God, but apparently precious to me.

Humility is what is good and what the Lord requires of me. It’s a constant struggle for me, and I thank Richard for the reminder.

• Jared knows I love him. {:)}