I was about 13 years old, and I had just learned that childish trick where you can cause someone to stumble by kicking their feet together while walking. In most instances this trick is harmless. You walk behind someone, kick their foot, cause them to stumble a bit, and then they chuckle and continue walking. No harm done. Joke over.
Like any other thirteen year-old, I thought this to be funny, but before I tried this trick on the masses, I decided that I would try it out on my younger sister. So, I started chasing her around the backyard, in order to get close enough to actually kick her foot. Our walking quickly turned into running, and as I caught up to her in time to kick her foot we had reached peak speed. So, rather than stumbling my sister actually went falling and then she began crying. The next thing I remember was my mother calling out my name. “Scott, what happened to your sister?!” I replied, “We were running and she fell!”
I was embarrassed and ashamed. I didn’t want to admit to what I had done.
My mom then asked, “Scott, what did you do?”
This wasn’t murder, but I imagine the feelings I felt were similar to the feeling Cain experienced after killing his younger brother. In the scripture today God calls out to Cain after he’s murdered Abel, “Where’s your brother? Cain replies, “I don’t know; am I my brother’s keeper?” My guess is that, Cain knows what he did. He knows it was wrong. He was embarrassed and ashamed. He didn’t want to admit what he did. But God, like mom, already knew.
God then asks, “Cain, what have you done?”
Yet there is always grace.
In this story, God does not kill Cain; instead, he lets him live that he might be transformed. “The LORD put a mark on Cain, so that no one who came upon him would kill him.” God shows Cain mercy and grace, and this is powerful because Cain did the worst possible thing a person can do to another. In Pastor Adam’s sermon this past Sunday he reminded us that “there is nothing – NO THING – that you can do for which God is unwilling to show mercy if you return to him,” but you must be willing to return to him. You must be willing to admit to what you’ve done, the thing that God already knows, that you might receive forgiveness.
In the end, I eventually confessed to everything, and my mother forgave me. I then hugged my sister, told her I’m sorry, and ten years later on account of her invitation found myself pursuing a call into ordained ministry. Whether it’s tripping your sister or murdering your brother, know that there is nothing, NO-THING, that you can do for which God is unwilling to show mercy if you return to him.
What’s stopping you from doing that today?
