Two Ingredients of Love
“If you want to impact someone’s life, love them when they least expect it and least deserve it.”
-Mark Batterson, Wild Goose Chase” Chapter 5: Page 104
When I was around five or six, I wanted to run for school “queen” or whatever it was called at the time. Basically, it was a fundraising effort. The winners were the children who raised the most money for the elementary school. I was totally oblivious to the burden such a race would put on my parents, particularly my mom. But in an effort to help me win, she baked cakes and goodies that we sold outside my aunt’s flower shop.
One particular cake was priced the highest. It had been baked in a molded pan and decorated in single tips of icing. It was a laborious process with a beautiful result. I was in awe of that cake and so proud that my mom had made it.
While my mom worked inside the flower shop, my older cousin and I manned the bake sale. All of the items were priced. All we had to do was take the money and let the buyers take their goodies. All went well until my cousin wanted to take the prize cake down the sidewalk to show my great uncle. I didn’t think it was a good idea, but, eventually, I complied. Of course, my cousin insisted that I be the one to carry it. After going to my uncle’s shop, we started back down the sidewalk to our stand.
I can remember it as if it were yesterday. I carried that cake (it was heavy) so carefully. My arms were outstretched, and it balanced on my hands, firmly underneath (no fingers in the icing). I walked down the sidewalk so slowly (no rushing, didn’t want to trip), and then, only a few feet from my destination, I took a step, one small but disastrous step. I had forgotten that the sidewalk ended there, a small step down to the next level. It was a step down that I couldn’t see. My eyes were focused not on my feet but on the cake, the beautiful cake, the cake that my mom spent hours working on, the cake that was meant to bring in the most money for our bake sell. I watched, as if in slow motion, as that cake went flying from my arms and landed on the side walk.
There is a lot about that story that I can’t remember. I don’t remember what exactly the cake looked like before I fell. I can’t remember the colors or even the design, only that it was beautiful. I don’t remember my uncle’s reaction to seeing it or if he was even there to see it when we arrived. I can’t remember picking the cake off the ground or what it looked like when I did. But I do remember walking into the flower shop to tell my mom what had happened. Most of all, I remember what my mom didn’t do.
She didn’t yell. She didn’t spank me or put me in time out. She didn’t rant about why I had picked the cake up or how much wasted effort I had caused her. I am sure she was frustrated. I am sure she was angry, but in that moment my mom showed me mercy. In the days ahead, as she continued to help me raise money, helped me become one of the top three in the competition, she showed me grace. And in her mercy and grace, she showed me love.
Mercy—not being punished when you deserve it—and grace—being blessed when you don’t deserve it—are two foundational tenets of the Christian faith. They are two ingredients for a recipe called love. God shows us both. He not only forgives us for our sins, but He also blesses us when we are so undeserving.
And so, we must love each other that way too—with mercy and grace. If we want to change the world for Christ’s sake, this is where it all begins. We must love others when they are most undeserving because it’s when we are most undeserving that we need love the most.
What’s your story? When have you been loved with mercy and grace? When have you been challenged to love that way as well?