Mercies Counted in the Morning

There is a strange arithmetic in the life of faith. We expect grace to accumulate, like savings, so that a hard season can be met from a store built up in better times. It does not work that way. The book of Lamentations, written amid the ruin of a city, puts it plainly: "Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."

New every morning. Not saved from last week. Not borrowed against next month. The word for that daily provision is mercy, and mercy is given the way manna was given in the wilderness—one day at a time, enough for the day, and no more.

This is a comfort if you are tired. You do not need faith for the whole year tonight. You need it for tomorrow morning, and it will be there when tomorrow morning comes.

It is also a discipline. Because mercy does not stockpile, it must be received again each day. The person who prayed on Monday cannot live Thursday on Monday's supply. Every morning is a fresh asking and a fresh giving.

Notice what the passage does not say. It does not say the ruins are rebuilt or the grief undone. The city was still rubble. What it claims is smaller and steadier: that its people were not consumed, and that the love holding them would meet them again at dawn.

So take the day you are given. Ask for what it needs. Trust that the God whose compassions never fail has already set out tomorrow's portion, and will hand it to you when tomorrow is yours.