Psalm 116:5 Gracious is the LORD, and righteous; Yes, our God is merciful.
Exodus 33:19 And he said, “I will make all my goodness pass before you and will proclaim before you my name ‘The LORD.’ And I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy.
Isaiah 54:7-8 For a mere moment I have forsaken you, But with great mercies I will gather you. 8 With a little wrath I hid My face from you for a moment; But with everlasting kindness I will have mercy on you,” Says the LORD, your Redeemer.
The mercy of God is not a distant concept—it’s His very nature. From Genesis to Revelation, God reveals Himself as righteous, just, and profoundly compassionate. His mercy is not a reaction; it’s a reflection of His divine character.
When Moses asked to see God’s glory, what was revealed? Goodness, grace, and mercy—not thunderbolts or judgment, but compassion flowing from the very heart of the Almighty.
The Hebrew word for compassion, rakhamim (רַחֲמִים), comes from the root rechem (רֶחֶם), meaning womb. This is no coincidence. Just as the womb protects, nurtures, and gives life, so God’s compassion embraces us in our weakness, shelters us in our wandering, and breathes hope into our despair.
Even in seasons of correction, God’s heart never grows cold. His discipline may be real, but it is always measured and momentary. What feels like abandonment is often just a pause in His visible presence, not in His love.
As Isaiah reminds us: “For a mere moment I forsook you, but with great compassion I will gather you. In a little wrath I hid My face, but with everlasting kindness I will have mercy on you.” (Isaiah 54:7–8)
His mercy endures far beyond His anger, and His kindness knows no end. Though He may allow distance for a season, His compassion never stops pursuing us—it always makes a way back to His embrace. Where sin has scattered, His mercy gathers. Where wrath is momentary, His love is everlasting. Even when we forget Him, He remembers us—faithfully, tenderly, completely.
The greatest revelation of God’s compassion came through Yeshua (Jesus), the Messiah. He was compassion in flesh, reaching, touching, healing, restoring. He touched the leper, sat with the sinner, wept with the grieving, and restored the broken. He even healed on Shabbat, declaring by His actions that human need outweighed religious customs.
Yeshua never asked, “Are you worthy?” Instead, He asked, “What do you want Me to do for you?” (Matthew 20:32)
This is divine compassion: it was not merit-based, but need-driven. Yeshua didn’t just feel sympathy—He acted, often with a touch, always with love.
If we are made in the image of God, then compassion must flow from us, too. We are not called to passive emotion but to active mercy; we are called to do the same to dispense true justice and practice lovingkindness and compassion. (Zechariah 7:9)
True compassion steps in, speaks up, and stretches out its hands. It’s not afraid to get messy. It’s not reserved for the “deserving.” It reflects God’s heart to a world that’s forgotten what love looks like.
So let the womb of God’s heart—His deep, life-giving compassion—be formed in you. Just as a mother carries and nurtures life within her, allow God’s Spirit to cultivate in you a heart that is ready to hold the hurting, heal the broken, and help the weary. Compassion isn’t complete until it moves beyond emotion and becomes action. Don’t settle for merely feeling sorry—become a vessel of mercy. Step in. Speak up. Reach out. Let your life be a living expression of God’s compassion to a world desperate for His touch.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]The mercy of God is not a distant concept—it’s His very nature. From Genesis to Revelation, God reveals Himself as righteous, just, and profoundly compassionate. His mercy is not a reaction; it’s a reflection of His divine character.
When we read the promises of God, we must read them the way we ourselves want to be heard—in full context. Just as we expect others to understand our words in light of what we’ve said before, God expects us to interpret His promises in light of all He has revealed in His Word.
A few days ago, I shared a quote from B.J. Willhite, and today I want to delve deeper into his powerful insight. He wrote, “The law of prayer is the highest law of the universe—it can overcome the other laws by sanctioning God’s intervention. When implemented properly, the law of prayer permits God to exercise His sovereignty in a world under the dominion of a rebel with free will, in a universe governed by natural law.”
When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.
On the sixth day, as the universe stood complete, God paused. One final creation remained—a masterpiece unlike any other. This being would bear His own image, a living reflection of the Divine (Genesis 1:26-27).
In the stillness of a desert night, surrounded by cut offerings and the lingering scent of sacrifice, Abram beheld something utterly sacred — God Himself, in the form of a smoking oven and a burning torch, passing between the pieces of a covenant. It was not Abram who walked through the blood-soaked path. It was God alone. And that changes everything.
Throughout Scripture, the number eight carries profound prophetic significance. It speaks of new beginnings, fresh starts, and divine separation from what was, to embrace what is to come.