Mercy

How much of our wretchedness and sin spews out freely in the last word? We all crave to possess it. We jump at the chance to have the last word. For what?

To win?
To destroy?
To witness suffering?
To earn the praise of men?
To preserve our pride?
To get even?
To compensate for our own weaknesses?
To reward a word of correction with malice?
To indulge our own stubbornness?
To relish in the sheer pleasure of the last word?

When our enemy is beaten down we have to deliver one more blow. When our enemy seeks a way of escape we have to attempt one more deadly shot as he departs. When our enemy strikes us, even in those cases where his attacks are feeble and ineffective, we must rage back at him with all of the ferocious wrath that we can muster.

We kill. And not just with our hands, but with our mouths as well. Our wicked heart controls them both. That is the source of this great ungodliness.

We are all the worst murderers. Lord have mercy!