On the Small Mercies

Dear brother or sister in Christ,

There is a kind of counting that has been done in Christian households for many centuries. It is not the counting of accomplishments or possessions, though there is a place for those. It is the slower counting of small mercies — the things one almost did not notice, but did, and remembered to thank the Lord for.

The bread was warm. The light was clear at the window. The phone call from the one you love came when you were tired and not expecting it. The headache lifted at noon. The bus came on time. The child slept through the night. A friend at church remembered the name of the person you had asked them to pray for.

None of these are great in themselves. Together they are the texture of grace.

The prophet Jeremiah, who wept more than most, knew this. In the middle of his book of lamentations — a book of grief upon grief — he stopped and said: It is of the LORD's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning. He was not pretending that the city had not fallen. He was saying that beneath the fallen city, the slow rain of mercy still came down at sunrise.

Try this in the next quiet hour: write down three small mercies from the day past. Not big things — small ones. The cup of coffee made by the one who knew you would want it. The patience of a colleague. The unexpected ten minutes of stillness on the train. Then thank the Lord for them, one by one. You will be surprised at the warmth that rises in the chest.

This is not denial of difficulty. It is the slow training of the eye to see what the eye has often missed.

We are praying that the Lord opens your eye this evening.

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.

A brother in Christ