In Case You Missed It: July 13, 2025 Sermon - “Mercy Has Feet”
Title: Mercy Has Feet
Series: What Moves You? (Week 2: Mercy)
Texts: Luke 10:25-37
We Just Asked the Children…
We just asked the children a big question:
“What if mercy had feet?”
They imagined feet that walk toward someone who is hurting,
feet that stop and stay,
feet that love like Jesus.
And now,
we ask ourselves the same question—
not just with imagination,
but with longing:
Where is mercy walking today?
Whom have we passed by
—not out of hatred,
but maybe out of fear or distraction?
And what does it mean
to walk with Christ where mercy goes?
When the Question Is More Than It Seems
A lawyer stands up—not to accuse, but to ask:
“What must I do to inherit eternal life?”
We often assume he’s trying to trap Jesus,
to catch him in theological error.
And yes—the text says he came to test him.
But perhaps there’s more to it than that.
The Greek verb ekpeirazō can mean “to test,”
but not always with malicious intent.
It may reflect genuine religious curiosity—
a sincere desire to understand eternal life
within the framework of the law.
It’s a question many of us ask—quietly, maybe wordlessly:
How do I live in the fullness of God’s presence?
Not just someday—but now.
Not only in death—but in life.
Jesus responds with a question:
“What is written in the law?”
And the lawyer answers well:
“Love the Lord your God… and your neighbor as yourself.”
Jesus says,
“You have answered correctly.
Do this, and you will live.”
But it doesn’t end there.
The man presses:
“And who is my neighbor?”
It’s a boundary question—
not who to love,
but how far love must go.
The Story That Crosses the Road
So Jesus tells a story.
A man is beaten and left half-dead.
A priest passes by.
A Levite does the same.
Then a Samaritan comes—
not a religious figure,
not someone respected,
but someone excluded.
And this outsider is moved with compassion.
The Greek word suggests deep,
gut-level movement that compels action.
He draws near.
He touches wounds.
He lifts the man.
He pours oil and wine.
He moves the wounded one to safety and pays.
He promises to return.
Mercy walks.
And it walks all the way to suffering.
Jesus never uses the word "mercy" in the parable.
It’s the lawyer who names it:
“The one who showed him mercy.”
Jesus replies:
“Go and do likewise.”
More Than a Moral Prompt
It’s tempting to hear this as a checklist:
Be kind.
Be better.
Help more.
But Jesus isn’t giving a lesson in morality.
He’s revealing what divine mercy looks like
when it crosses boundaries—
cultural, religious, emotional.
The priest and the Levite weren’t cruel.
They were likely trying to keep themselves pure—
as the law required.
But their vision of holiness stayed on one side of the road.
The Samaritan crossed it.
And in that crossing,
he mirrors the movement of God:
crossing lines,
touching wounds,
carrying the cost.
When Love Is a Way of Being
This is not a call to try harder.
It is an invitation to abide in Christ—
to live near His heart.
To love God is to dwell in God’s presence.
And from that presence, love overflows.
Mercy is not self-made.
It flows from abiding—
from communion, not command.
We receive mercy.
We walk with it.
We follow Christ’s footsteps.
And What About Eternal Life?
So we return to the question:
“What must I do to inherit eternal life?”
And perhaps the answer is not about arrival—
but about presence.
To dwell now in God’s mercy.
To abide in divine love.
To let mercy move our feet.
To follow where Christ already walks.
So We Wonder Together…
Who lies along our road this week?
Whom have we passed—
not out of cruelty,
but out of caution?
Where is Christ already ahead of us—
binding wounds,
crossing lines,
waiting for our feet to follow?
Are we willing to walk—
not to prove something,
but to come closer?
Mercy has feet.
May ours walk with it.
-Pastor DH Choi
Sermon Reflection Questions:
1. When have you quietly asked, “How do I dwell in God’s presence—now, not just someday?”
What was happening in your life at the time?
2. What boundaries have you drawn—knowingly or not—around who counts as your “neighbor?”
Where did those lines come from?
3. When you picture mercy walking, whose feet do you imagine?
Are they moving toward suffering, or away from it? Where are yours?
4. Where is Christ already walking ahead of you this week—crossing lines, tending wounds, waiting for your feet to follow?
What’s keeping you from stepping toward Him?