July 18, 1956
Dear Diary
This morning I read from the Gospel of Matthew, and it stayed in my heart all day. It was the part where Jesus and His disciples walked through the grain fields on the sabbath. The disciples were hungry, so they picked grain and ate it. The Pharisees scolded them, saying it was unlawful on the sabbath.
But Jesus answered so gently, reminding them of David eating the bread meant only for priests. Then He said something that made me stop and look up from the page: “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” And then, “The Son of Man is Lord of the sabbath.”
That line, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice,” made me think a long while. I believe Jesus was telling them—and us—that what matters most to God isn’t just following every rule perfectly, but having a heart full of kindness. Mercy means seeing someone’s hunger and helping them. Mercy means love first, not cold rules. The Pharisees cared more about rules than the hungry hearts in front of them.
And when Jesus said, “The Son of Man is Lord of the sabbath,” I think He meant that He isn’t bound by the sabbath—He made it. The sabbath was meant to bring rest and peace, not punishment. And Jesus brings that true rest, the kind that reaches our souls.
I let those words settle inside me while I fed the hens and gathered eggs. Omelette followed me all the way back to the kitchen steps, and I laughed, wondering if I looked like one of the disciples walking through a grain field, sharing little bits of God’s mercy along the way.
Later, after chores and a sandwich, I found myself in front of the easel. I drew a simple sketch that seemed to fit my thoughts for the day—just Jesus, Mini, and me walking quietly through a field of wheat. It wasn’t perfect, but somehow it felt like peace on paper.
Lord Jesus, help me to understand what You meant when You said You desire mercy. Let me be gentle with others. Let me hunger for You. Let me remember that You are my rest, my sabbath.
Love,
Kathy
This morning I read from the Gospel of Matthew, and it stayed in my heart all day. It was the part where Jesus and His disciples walked through the grain fields on the sabbath. The disciples were hungry, so they picked grain and ate it. The Pharisees scolded them, saying it was unlawful on the sabbath.
But Jesus answered so gently, reminding them of David eating the bread meant only for priests. Then He said something that made me stop and look up from the page: “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” And then, “The Son of Man is Lord of the sabbath.”
That line, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice,” made me think a long while. I believe Jesus was telling them—and us—that what matters most to God isn’t just following every rule perfectly, but having a heart full of kindness. Mercy means seeing someone’s hunger and helping them. Mercy means love first, not cold rules. The Pharisees cared more about rules than the hungry hearts in front of them.
And when Jesus said, “The Son of Man is Lord of the sabbath,” I think He meant that He isn’t bound by the sabbath—He made it. The sabbath was meant to bring rest and peace, not punishment. And Jesus brings that true rest, the kind that reaches our souls.
I let those words settle inside me while I fed the hens and gathered eggs. Omelette followed me all the way back to the kitchen steps, and I laughed, wondering if I looked like one of the disciples walking through a grain field, sharing little bits of God’s mercy along the way.
Later, after chores and a sandwich, I found myself in front of the easel. I drew a simple sketch that seemed to fit my thoughts for the day—just Jesus, Mini, and me walking quietly through a field of wheat. It wasn’t perfect, but somehow it felt like peace on paper.
Lord Jesus, help me to understand what You meant when You said You desire mercy. Let me be gentle with others. Let me hunger for You. Let me remember that You are my rest, my sabbath.
Love,
Kathy
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