Janita Krayniak

Being raised in the Deep South of Georgia, I often used to hear the old folks say these words: “Mercy me!” and I always wondered, who was this Mercy?  What had Mercy done? Or maybe what was Mercy? I never thought to ask them why they used those words. Later I found out it was a phrase used to express wonder and awe about someone or something that had happened. For a while, mercy was another way to say: “WOW!”

Then when I was a little older, still a child, I remember a rather cruel finger bending game we often played. You would take hold of each other's hands, fingers intertwined, and then you tried to press so hard against the other person’s fingers that your opponent would cry out in pain “MERCY!” For a long time, that is what I thought mercy meant … causing pain for another until they gave up and cried out for mercy. As I grew up, I began to hear of people who received mercy specifically when they had done something really wrong and then the governor was said to have had mercy on them when they did not receive their full sentencing in prison or jail and either went free or had their time or punishment reduced. For a while that is what I thought
mercy meant. 

Then at about age 8, I realized that not only did I love Jesus, but that Jesus really loved me too. And that meant I was given mercy, forgiveness, grace, compassion and most of all love. And it also meant that nothing could or would ever separate me from the love of God. For many years this was how I understood mercy. Mercy was mine! All mine! Thanks, God!

As I grew older there have been many times where I have had the opportunity to extend mercy, forgiveness, grace, compassion and love to another person who has done me wrong. And I would love to type in this column, that I always did the right thing by offering mercy, but I did not. I harbored anger and resentment and envy and even hatred in my heart. Mercy was mine, all mine … why should I give any of it away? And that is how for many years I understood mercy, until the day when I had a choice to offer mercy to a person who I had loved for nearly 25 years of my life. I did not want to give mercy to him. I wanted him to suffer the way I had suffered. Mercy was mine, all mine … right?

So I prayed a prayer, asking God to give me my family back. I hit my knees and weeping, I prayed this prayer over and over and over. I even wrote it on a small piece of paper and tucked it into a prayer pillow where I laid my head every night. “Abba, living, loving, Lord, Almighty God (I used many names for God) please give me my family back. Amen.”  

Divorce, single motherhood, working a full time job while getting a master’s degree which was in response to answering a lifelong call into ministry, and then one night in May at a ministry called the Edge in Colorado Springs, I was asked to share a story about betrayal. It was in preparation for sharing my story of betrayal, that God through the Holy Spirit led me to forgiveness. True forgiveness — the kind of forgiveness that is not earned or deserved, but you give it anyway. (The kind of forgiveness that God gave to me all those years ago and still gives to me even today! — WOW!) It was then that I finally understood mercy (and if you are wondering if God answered my prayer, the answer is yes! It was not the family I thought I would have, but God bessed me beyond measure with a beautifully messy and imperfect blended family that loves one another through it all!) 

So go ahead and holler, just like the old folks did — "Mercy me!" but if you do, be ready! Ready not only to receive God’s amazing grace and mercy for yourself … but also be ready to freely give that same grace and mercy to others. “Mercy Me!” (you’re probably thinking it too, so I will go ahead and say it: “WOW!”)

(Janita Krayniak is the pastor at United Church of Powell.)