Merciful Jesus
The church has always wrestled with the question of how best to demonstrate the compassion of Christ. Believers have always recognized the gospel is a message to be preached, but also accompanied by mercy. But how?
In Luke 5:17–26 we read a story that reveals the urgent, complex, and astonishing character of Christ’s mercy. There, Jesus heals a paralyzed man lowered through the roof of a crowded house. In that single event, we see mercy in its fullness, setting the pattern for the church’s ministry of service today.
The Urgency of Christ’s Mercy
Luke describes the scene: Jesus is teaching in a packed house, surrounded by Pharisees and teachers of the law. Suddenly, a group of men appear, carrying a paralyzed friend. The crowd blocks every entrance, yet these friends will not be turned away. They climb the roof, remove the thatch, and lower the man before Jesus.
Why such urgency?
Why were they so desperate to place their friend before Christ?
The answer is simple—they knew Christ was the merciful one:
He healed the blind (Matthew 20:34).
He pitied the crowds without a shepherd (Mark 6:34).
He touched lepers with cleansing hands (Mark 1:41).
He comforted grieving widows (Luke 7:13).
He wept over Jerusalem’s sin (Luke 19:41).
He opened the ears of the deaf and the mouths of the mute (Mark 7:34).
He groaned with Mary and Martha at Lazarus’s tomb (John 11:33).
Again and again, Christ revealed himself as the merciful one. No wonder the friends in Luke 5 would not rest until their companion was brought to him. Mercy drew them to the Lord Jesus.
This urgency continues today. The world is exhausted—burdened by anxiety, weighed down by guilt, and desperate for kindness. Jesus invites the weary to rest, pointing to lilies clothed and birds fed by the providence of his Father (Matthew 6:26–30).
His mercy is still the most underutilized treasure in the church’s possession. And just as those friends once carried their companion to Christ, so Christians are called to carry the hurting, the overlooked, and the burdened into the presence of a merciful Savior.
The Complexity of Christ’s Mercy
Yet mercy is not simplistic. The mercy of Jesus is complex, caring for both soul and body.
When the paralyzed man was lowered into the house, everyone expected healing. Physical healing. Instead, Jesus began with forgiveness:
“Man, your sins are forgiven you” (Luke 5:20).
His words shocked the crowd, and outraged the Pharisees. Only God can forgive sins! Yet that was precisely the point—Jesus, the Son of Man, has authority on earth to forgive. To prove it, he then healed the man physically.
This double action of forgiving guilt and restoring strength, shows us the full scope of Christ’s compassion. He refused to reduce mercy to mere physical relief, but he also refused to ignore genuine need. Forgiveness and healing, word and deed, went together.
The same truth must characterize our churches. Churches err when they separate what Christ joined. Some focus on teaching alone, leaving the hurting without succor and the suffering unattended. Others excel in social action while neglecting solid preaching. But true mercy is both spiritual and physical, eternal and temporal. As James put it, “Pure and undefiled religion before God… is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world” (James 1:27).
Historically, this is why the church has recognized two complementary offices: elders, who lead in word-based ministry, and deacons, who lead in deed-based ministry. When both flourish, the church reflects Christ’s mercy. As the Puritan Thomas Goodwin noted, Christ is “love covered in flesh.” The mercies of God are made visible. Our churches are also called to bold preaching and genuine compassion.
The Curiosity of Christ’s Mercy
Finally, Luke records the crowd’s reaction: “Immediately he rose up before them… glorifying God. And they were all amazed…saying, ‘We have seen strange things today’” (Luke 5:25–26).
The word “strange” here is paradoxa which means astonishing things, outside the ordinary course. Christ’s mercy produced wonder, a paradox that defied categories. He forgave sins as only God could, and healed bodies as only a physician could. The people left bewildered, yet worshipful.
This paradox continues wherever the mercy of Christ is displayed. The church’s acts of compassion should leave the world perplexed, even unsettled. “Why would these people forgive their enemies? Why would they give so generously? Why do they care for those whom society ignores?” Such questions open the door to curious gospel witness. Mercy provokes curiosity because it mirrors the mercy of Christ, which is unlike anything the world offers.
What does this mean for Christians today? It means that mercy is not optional. It is at the heart of true Christian witness. To reflect Christ’s urgent, complex, and paradoxical mercy is to show the world who he is.
This happens formally in the diaconate, but also through the daily lives of believers. Every Christian is called to be merciful, because every Christian has received mercy. Jesus said, “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy” (Matthew 5:7).
When the gospel is proclaimed with clarity and when acts of compassion accompany it with sincerity, the church becomes a place where people rise up, glorify God, and astonish the watching world. That was true in Capernaum two thousand years ago, and it remains true wherever Christ’s mercy is embodied today.
The mercy of Christ is urgent as it draws us to him. It is complex as it meets the needs of body and soul. And it is curious in its defying the world’s categories and provoking astonishment.
In Luke 5, a paralyzed man left Jesus’ presence both forgiven and healed, glorifying God. The crowd marveled: “We have seen strange things today.” May the same be said whenever the church lives out the mercy of Christ. May the world look on, bewildered by grace, and compelled to ask about the Savior who is love covered in flesh.
