From the Desk of Jeff King

Mercy beyond measure

One of the most comforting words in all Scripture is the Hebrew noun rahamim. It describes the fullness of God's compassion toward mankind in picture language: pity, womb or tender mercies, such as a mother for a child. It can only be used in the plural, implying that God's mercies are limitless.

Alisa and I saw that mercy in action last week at a crowded deli in Beverly Hills, Calif. Our hostess sat us at a table with a young woman, who was dining alone. The deli (see inset photo) was across the street from the medical building where Alisa had seen a breast-cancer specialist that morning. It is one of the few clinics on the West Coast that offers breast thermography or thermal imaging, a process that can detect cancer or pre-cancerous cell growth 10 years prior to any other method. Alisa, who underwent successful breast-cancer surgery two years earlier, received encouraging news when we got home: the exam found no trace of cancer.

Our table guest was friendly and we immediately engaged her in conversation. She shared with us her life story – raised Italian Catholic, former Vegas showgirl and go-go dancer, aspiring Hollywood screenwriter. Life couldn't be better, she confided, but the lost and distant look in her eyes did not convince us. We listened intently and prayed silently the Lord would offer us a chance to share Him. Minutes before she left, the conversation turned to spiritual matters. We talked about our faith walk, which included a fresh testimony from that morning: We had arrived at the medical building without the office number, doctor's name or phone number – information we had left at the hotel. I couldn't believe we forgot it. We were lost inside a four-story building, staring at rows of unmarked office doors. Minutes from her appointment and in near panic, we held hands and prayed. I walked a few feet, picked a door and walked in. It was the thermography office. Alisa and I looked at each other in utter shock.

As the woman got up to leave – she was late for an appointment – Alisa offered the woman her Bible. She took it and stuffed it into a purse, said goodbye and rushed out the door. As we drove back to our hotel in Anaheim – leaving behind the palm-reading shops, yoga academy and Masonic temple – we marveled at how God had orchestrated this chance encounter. Yeshua of Nazareth had gone searching for this lost little sheep in the Los Angeles Basin, home to millions. And He used two undeserving and unqualified vessels, Alisa and I, to share His rahamim – mercy beyond measure.