“Unto You. I lift my eyes, O You who dwell in the heavenlies. Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their masters, as the eyes of a maid to the hand of the mistress, so our eyes look to the Lord our God, until His mercy is on us.” (Psalm 123:1,2 NKJV)
The child was five; barely a head above his Dad’s knee, blonde hair tossed like the wind had had its way. Tears slowly trailed down the soft cheeks leaving a slender tinsel-like ribbon. Standing; knees locked, arms dangling at both sides; fingers slowly, nervously wiggling like worms hanging from a fishhook. Fear had taken over. What would the hands of authority do?
The vase wasn’t for playing with. That’s not how the child wanted to use it. He wanted to put some small toys in it; a child’s hiding place. Now, it was scattered. Random fragments, treasured as a whole, now worthless pieces. It exploded as it hit the floor. Pieces that shot outward now lay still.
Thoughts in the child’s mind, once organized now tossed like the vessels pieces. There was only emptiness; a vacuum, waiting for what may come next.
Eyes, once white surrounding soft blue, now wide with unutterable emotion, glistening as the body reacted to the trauma.
The eyes told the story. Retribution was expected; mercy was longed for. Guilt weighed down the heart, but mercy would set it free. The eyes told the story.
The eyes, not the face. The eyes not the hands. The eyes, not the rigid posture. It’s the eyes that would silently seek…mercy.
Have you sought the mercy of the One who so desires to give it? Are you willing to look until mercy comes on you?
It won’t take a word, but words will come. It won’t take a motion, but an act will follow. Just look until mercy is on you. It won’t take long.
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