The following transcript was generated using AI from the sermon recording. Some grammatical and transcription erros may be found.
Over these last few weeks, stories of powerful people who stood up against injustice and persecution throughout history have surfaced. One name that stood out, a name I had heard before but whose story I had forgotten, was Corrie ten Boom.
Does anyone recognize that name? She was a Dutch watchmaker who, along with her father and sister, helped Jews escape persecution in Nazi Germany by hiding them in her home. For years, they saved many lives. But eventually, she was captured and sent to the concentration camp Ravensbrück. She survived, but she experienced unimaginable suffering.
Later, she became a Christian and traveled the world, sharing her story and speaking about forgiveness. During one particular talk, she spoke about her experiences when a man approached her afterward. He was a former guard from Ravensbrück, the very place where she had been imprisoned. He had become a Christian, and he asked for her forgiveness. As he extended his hand, she froze.
Memories of her suffering, the lives lost, and the horrors she endured must have flooded her mind. Could she forgive him? Should she? She prayed, 'Jesus, I cannot forgive him, but you can.' And with that, she took his hand, feeling God's love flow through her, bringing healing and transformation.
This story connects deeply with today’s scripture. We heard two stories—one of a centurion, a Roman soldier overseeing many, and another of a grieving widow. The centurion was part of the occupying force in Israel, often viewed as the enemy. Yet, when his slave was sick, Jewish elders vouched for him, urging Jesus to heal the man’s servant. But the centurion, aware of his unworthiness, sent messengers to stop Jesus from coming to his house. Instead, he expressed a remarkable faith: 'Just say the word, and my servant will be healed.'
Jesus was in awe of this faith. Can you imagine Jesus being amazed by someone's faith? The centurion understood authority—he took orders and gave orders. He recognized Jesus’ authority and knew that healing could happen with just a command. Jesus, astonished, declared, 'I have not found such faith in all of Israel.'
How often do we feel unworthy? How often do we judge others as unworthy? Yet, Jesus' mercy extends beyond our expectations. His mercy reached a Roman soldier, an outsider, an enemy. What does that mean for us?
The second story is of a widow who had lost her only son. In her time, this loss was not just emotional but also economic—without a husband or son, she had no security. Jesus saw her pain, had compassion, and intervened. He reached out and touched the bier, making himself ritually unclean. But in that moment, he brought the dead back to life. His mercy didn’t just console; it transformed.
Mercy is not about who deserves it. Corrie ten Boom wrestled with this as she faced the man who had caused her so much suffering. Sometimes, forgiveness is beyond our own power. But God’s mercy is boundless, and it changes the world. Are we willing to let mercy change us?
Jesus’ mercy reached beyond expected boundaries. How can we extend mercy in our lives? Do we believe some people are beyond God’s love? Can we get to the place where we say, 'I don’t know if I can forgive, but I know Jesus can'?
Are we cultivating a faith that amazes Jesus? Do we trust him completely, even when we don’t see results? The centurion believed from a distance that Jesus could heal. Do we have the boldness to ask God for what seems impossible?
Finally, does our compassion change lives? Mercy should not be just a warm feeling—it should move us into action. Whether it’s volunteering at the food pantry, supporting addiction recovery, or comforting the grieving, our faith should shape the world around us.
So I ask: Where is God breaking your heart? Where is your compassion stirring? And how can you respond?
My prayer is that you recognize where God has shown you mercy and extend that mercy to others, allowing it to transform the world around you. Amen.