October 25

The sermon last Sunday featured a tale about justice, grace, and mercy that stuck with me. It went a little something like this: if a policeman pulls you over for speeding and gives you a ticket, that's justice. If he doesn't give you a ticket, that's mercy. If he gives you a donut, that's grace. Humor aside, it really resonated with me (probably because I love donuts) so I thought about it on and off all week long, mulling over the concept and over whether or not I'd choose to mete out justice or mercy (or even grace) if an opportunity were to present itself.

And because God is the great teacher He is, I was presented with an opportunity to apply the lesson to a real-life circumstance today. 

After enjoying my time at the Mother Ship, I went out to my car. As I approached, I noticed what looked like fresh scratches and scuff marks on the rear panel (which is part of the bumper), near the tire. Then I saw rows of scuff marks across the tire itself and it dawned on me: someone hit my parked car. I shook my head, annoyed that someone would do that and not leave a note... and then I noticed the note stuck in the door handle. 

Immediately grateful that the mystery person had done the right thing, I opened it and read the contents, which included an apology and a phone number. I slipped the note in my center console so I wouldn't lose it and got back to running my errands. 

When I finally pulled back into the garage at home, I verified that the sensors in the bumper still worked and that the backup camera was okay. And then I thought about that sermon. And I decided, pretty much then and there, that I would show mercy. So I called her and told her that I'd checked it out and since the damage seemed to be purely cosmetic, we wouldn't worry about it. She seemed surprised and insisted that if something pops up with a sensor to please let her know. And I thanked her for  leaving the note and she called me the nicest person. And we wished each other well and that was that. 

I'd have been well within my rights to insist that she pay to repair my bumper, but I've gotta tell you all the truth: showing mercy felt better than a fresh rear panel would've looked anyway.