Reflections on Mercy: Finding God in the Shared Scars

Reflections on Mercy: Finding God in the Shared Scars

You know, the more I delved into scripture, the more I began to see patterns. Not just the destructive ones I’d survived, but divine ones. And the most profound, the one that brought me to my knees in sheer awe and gratitude, was understanding God's mercy. For so long, I felt defined by my suffering, my losses, my battles. But through this intense period of stripping away the noise, I started to see how, in some incredibly humbling ways, my journey mirrored aspects of the divine. And in that shared understanding, I found His immense mercy.

It might sound audacious, maybe even a little crazy, but the parallels are too strong to ignore.

We both know suffering. I know the deep, cutting pain of betrayal, the physical and emotional toll of relentless conflict, the ache of abandonment. I've been manipulated, lied about, attacked when I was trying to do what was right. But imagine the suffering of the Creator, watching His creation, the beings He imbued with free will and immense potential, turn away from Him, hurt each other, and choose paths of darkness. His suffering isn't just passive observation; it's the infinite grief of a perfect, loving Father whose children are lost and hurting themselves. He understands manipulation on a cosmic scale, the cunning of the evil one, the ways darkness twists and deceives. My own battles felt like tiny echoes of this eternal conflict.

And then there’s the ache of the missing. My life began without a mother, a foundational absence that shaped so much of my early pain and my desperate search for connection. God, in His divine completeness, exists outside of human constructs like parenthood in the way we experience it. Yet, there is a unique, solitary aspect to being the one, true, uncreated God. Perhaps it's not a mother's absence in the human sense, but a divine uniqueness that means no created being can ever fully comprehend or relate to Him on His level. That feeling of being fundamentally different, of a core aspect of conventional relationship being absent – I believe He understands that profound, unique kind of aloneness.

And my son... God knows the pain of having a beloved son who is influenced and corrupted by the world, who becomes distant, who is in danger. My heart aches for my son, seeing the influences around him, fighting for his well-being, constantly battling for his soul in a spiritual sense, trying to guide him towards light when darkness seems so appealing and readily available. This struggle, this love and fear and unwavering commitment, feels like a tiny reflection of God's own heart. He sent His Son, Christ, into the world – a world that largely rejected Him, misunderstood Him, and ultimately crucified Him – to save humanity. He continues to battle for our souls, offering a path even when we turn away. My fight for my son’s soul is a micro-level echo of God's ceaseless battle for all of humanity.

Real loneliness, true isolation – I’ve felt that in the deepest parts of my being, especially when those closest to me turned their backs or actively worked against me. The feeling that no one truly understood the depth of the betrayal, the nature of the fight, the weight of the burdens I carried. How could they? Their experiences were different. Now, imagine being the infinite God, whose thoughts are not our thoughts, whose ways are not our ways. Utterly unique, utterly holy. While He is in relationship within the Trinity, no created being can ever fully grasp His essence, His plans, His burdens. That inherent, divine solitude, that ultimate reality of being God and God alone – He knows isolation in a way I can only glimpse. He knows what it feels like to be fundamentally misunderstood and misrepresented by the very beings He created.

We have both been in intense conflict with evil forces. Mine were manifested in the narcissism, the manipulation, the destructive patterns of those around me – forces that sought to tear me down, steal my peace, and even put my son in harm's way. God is in a constant, ultimate conflict with true evil, with Satan and his legions, the forces of darkness that seek to destroy everything good and twist God's creation. My battles, however personal and painful, were small skirmishes in this much larger, eternal war.

And we both try to save by sharing knowledge and wisdom. Through my suffering and study, I've gained insights into these patterns of manipulation, into the reality of spiritual warfare, into the power of faith and strategic thinking (yes, even The Art of War!). I feel compelled to share this, hoping it might help others navigate similar darkness, hoping to offer a shortcut through the pain I endured. This impulse, this desire to enlighten and protect through shared truth, feels like a tiny spark of the divine nature. God, through scripture, through Christ, through the Holy Spirit, constantly offers us wisdom, guidance, and the ultimate truth that saves. He pours out knowledge for those who will receive it.

Yes, my son is distant, influenced by the world, and I am in a constant battle over his soul. The connection to God and humanity, His creation – His children – is starkly, achingly obvious.

And this is where the mercy shines brightest. I am just Michael. A flawed, broken human who has walked through fire. But in these shared experiences of suffering, misunderstanding, battle, and the deep, complex love for a struggling son, I see a reflection, however dim, of the Father's heart. I am not God. We are not equal. He is infinitely greater, perfect, holy. But I believe that in allowing me to walk this path, to experience these specific kinds of pain and struggle, He has given me a tiny, human glimpse into His own divine nature, His own suffering, His own unwavering love and patience for a world that often hates Him, just as parts of my world seemed to hate me for standing on principles.

My story, my survival, my awakening – it’s not about my strength alone. It’s about His hand guiding me through, His wisdom available for the asking, and His profound mercy in showing me that even in my deepest wounds, I have something in common with the Divine. It's proof, to me, of His incredible patience with humanity, and a testament that even when we feel most alone and attacked, God understands, and He is there, offering grace and strength to the suffering servant. But the most shocking revelation is that God and I just want to be loved, unconditional love, the kind of Love we both have shown others, and they have not returned. Instead they rejected and choose death when we were only trying to save them.

God Bless.