The Tender Mercy of God

In the month leading up to Christmas Day I think I have been present and shared something of the Christmas story at six ‘extra’ end of year events. We all know it’s a busy time, with plenty of different activities in church, school, and other community groups we’re involved in. For me, this has probably been my most active Christmas in some time, possibly ever. And as you can imagine, I’m wanting to share the great news of Jesus’ birth, but also do so in a way that isn’t stale. I want it to be attractive and meaningful for the hearers, and also for me personally as the speaker. At some of these events I can share the same message with a tweak or two, but by the time you’ve done that 2-3 times I feel within myself that it’s time to change it up. 

That’s why, at our Community Kitchen Christmas meal the other evening, I decided to share for five minutes on the phrase, “the tender mercy of God”, which comes from Luke 1:78.

It’s such a great phrase. It’s beautiful really. And it is part of the Christmas story, tucked away in Zechariah’s song. 

After months of silence, and the birth of his son John, Zechariah breaks into praise. His words look back and acknowledge God’s faithfulness (Luke 1:68-75), and then turn toward the future and the coming of Jesus, which lead him to say those words, “the tender mercy of God”. 

Tender mercy. 

This is not forceful power. 

This is not harsh correction. 

This is not distant authority. 

This is tender mercy. 

Zechariah’s song helps us understand what kind of God we are dealing with, and what kind of salvation He is bringing into the world through Jesus. 

John, Zechariah’s son, was not to be the central character of the story. He would be the one who prepared the way. Like the opening act at a concert who warms up the crowd and gets them ready for the main artist or band, his role was important but not ultimate. He would point beyond himself to Jesus. 

And what was he preparing people for? 

Not a political revolution. 

Not economic rescue.

Not national independence. 

John was preparing people for salvation through the forgiveness of sins. A salvation that flows from God’s tender mercy. 

If we’re honest, we often look outward for our own salvation. We want to be saved from difficult circumstances, whether it’s pressure at work, financial stress, health challenges, and broken relationships. And God cares about all those things. 

But Christmas reminds us that God’s deeper work for us is inward. 

God comes to deal with the things we carry beneath the surface. Guilt. Shame. Regret. Fear. The quiet sense that things aren’t right inside of us. 

And He doesn’t come aggressively or forcefully, He comes gently and tenderly. 

God doesn’t approach us with a raised voice, or come to shame and humiliate. He isn’t impatient or hurried or fed up and disappointed. 

God meets us in our brokenness with closeness. 

He draws near. 

Perhaps you’ve had a similar experience to me when on Christmas Day you celebrate a meal with all the special cutlery and utensils. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. Out comes the special plates, the special bowls, the fine glassware, and the more expensive cutlery. There are decorations that only come out once a year, perhaps there are some precious ornaments displayed around the room too. And within this celebration there are kids around, excited and happy and joyful. 

Now, imagine that one of them accidentally knocks a glass off the table. It shatters on the floor and its contents stain the carpet. The room is suddenly quiet. The child freezes. They’re waiting. 

What are they waiting for? Most likely a parent or family member to get cross out of the stress, pressure, and frustration that a Christmas Day meal can bring. 

But tender mercy is not snapping in frustration. 

Tender mercy is not shaming or scolding. 

Tender mercy is kneeling down, wrapping them in a hug, and saying, “It’s OK. No worries. I’ll sort it out.”

This, Zechariah tells us, is what God is like. 

Because of God’s tender mercy, Jesus comes into the world. 

Because of God’s tender mercy, forgiveness is possible.

Because of God’s tender mercy, light shines into dark places.

And because of God’s tender mercy, God guides people into a path of peace.

It isn’t about having life neatly organised. It isn’t about pretending things are fine. It isn’t about performing spiritual competence. It is about a God who draws near, who sees us as we are, and who chooses compassion over condemnation.

Wherever this season finds you; tired, hopeful, grieving, uncertain, or desperately trying to hold things together, the message of Christmas remains the same.

God’s mercy is tender.

And it is for you.