> > One can't be just and merciful at the same time.
>
> That's what Jesus Christ was for -- to resolve that very paradox. By granting mercy frivolously, God would be compromising his justness.

Furthermore, Scripture states succinctly what this sacrifice on Jesus' part means: "Mercy triumphs over justice!"

> Anecdote time. A young man appears in court over a traffic violation. The judge happens to be the young man's father. It is clear the young man is guilty, and the father is torn between divergent desires -- he must be just, and therefore demand the fines that are called for. But he also wants to be loving and merciful toward his son. What does he do? As judge, he passes sentence -- the fine must be paid. As father, he sheds his robes, steps down from the bench, and pays the fine from his own pocket. The son had the option, of course, of refusing the gift given by his father, but if he did that, he would have to pay the fine himself.
>
> God did the same thing for his sons. Sin was committed. Punishment was due. But God's loving nature did not want us to have to pay the penalty ourselves, so Jesus Christ paid it for us. As with the traffic violation fine, we can accept that gift or pay it ourselves.

I've more or less stopped attempting to systematize just exactly how the sacrifice of Jesus "works", and how through his sacrifice God was able to meet the demands of both His justice and His mercy and love. It always seems to me that God must have had some motive other than simply trying to balance out the equation of His divine attributes. But as analogies go, this is as good a one as I've come across, and I'll refrain from quibbling. :-)

> > I hate the feeling I've been given something in excess of what I deserve. I don't need it. I want to deserve...I want to be equal to.

I can't really add to Sam's response on this point, but I'll summarize and reinforce it: it's our own vanity that makes us want to deserve things, because this is a measure of our worth. But our worth derives solely from God, and we have squandered in our rebellion and sin the worthiness God gives us as His creations. What do we have left but to gratefully accept God's mercy, unmerited?

I have always liked the line from Hamlet, where Polonius tells the prince that he will treat the visiting players "after their desert," by which he means very well, since he judges them to be honorable people. Hamlet responds, "God's bodkin, man, much better! Use each man after his own desert, and who shall scape whipping?"

> But what far outweighs this temporary discomfort is the unbounded and unfailing love of God, which, frankly, I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

Nor I.

Iss