Consider the ditches we find ourselves in, those hidden places where the soul feels battered and weary. Everyone, at some point, knows intimately what it means to lie wounded, stripped bare by circumstances we never imagined. It might be a betrayal by someone we cherished deeply, a rejection that stings in silence, or simply the unbearable weight of daily expectations. Indeed, we often find that the deepest cuts come from the sharp tongues or cold indifference of those nearest to us, those who know precisely where our vulnerabilities lie. Pride, envy, greed—these are the thieves that rob us of peace, leaving us isolated and desperate in our own private ditches.
Yet, paradoxically, it is precisely at this low ebb, when we feel most helpless, that our hearts become ready for something extraordinary. Stripped of our pride, we no longer cling to preconceived judgments; our defenses crumble, and suddenly we are open to receive mercy. Mercy, that unexpected visitor who never announces herself in advance but comes disguised, quietly transformative, catching us off guard with tenderness.
Jesus reveals this truth when he tells the story of a Samaritan, despised and dismissed, who nevertheless “was moved with compassion at the sight” of the beaten traveler. Notice how, in any other moment, pride or prejudice might have turned away this wounded victim’s heart. Had he not been so vulnerable, perhaps he would have recoiled in disgust, pushing the Samaritan aside. Yet at rock bottom, his heart opened just enough to allow mercy in. And that moment, that subtle yet profound acceptance, changed everything.
This is precisely how mercy works in the Kingdom of God—it arrives unbidden and unexpected. Mercy does not wait for us to be deserving, nor does it abide by our rules and expectations. Instead, it arrives quietly, in ways we never imagined, through people we never would have chosen.
Reflect on your own life: who has been your unexpected Samaritan? Who has reached into your ditch, offering kindness when you least anticipated it, bringing healing precisely when you felt beyond repair? And more challengingly, consider whose ditch you are being called to approach today, whose wounds might require your mercy—someone you least expect, perhaps someone you’ve kept at arm’s length.
What if each of us were to embody this surprising mercy. What if, instead of waiting cautiously for the other to reach out, we became bearers of mercy first? What if we let go of old grudges, reached across chasms of misunderstanding, and whispered words of reconciliation?
The beauty is that in practicing unexpected mercy, we not only imitate our compassionate God, but we also open ourselves wider to his endless surprises. Mercy multiplies; healing begets healing. Perhaps the wounds you carry, the ones you believed incurable, are merely awaiting this courageous first step—your willingness to say, “I forgive,” or “I’m sorry,” or simply, “I see you.”
Let your heart become a vessel of surprising mercy today. Dare to approach the ditch of someone who expects no kindness from you. In doing so, you might just discover a mercy richer, deeper, and more transformative than you ever dreamed possible.