Have you ever caught yourself approaching God like you’re entering a courtroom—careful, cautious, feeling guilty that you missed it again? Standing on the outside of a courtroom, you can almost hear the hush on the other side, feeling the weight of verdicts and sentences waiting to be read. It’s an intimidating atmosphere to say the least. 

Many good, sincere believers have been trained to picture God’s throne that way. They imagine themselves crawling in, head down, hoping the Judge might grant them mercy once more.

The Gospel, however, paints a different courtroom in Hebrews 4:14-16, Seeing then that we have a great High Priest… Jesus the Son of God… let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Boldly. Mercy. Help. That’s not a courtroom; that’s family.

When most people hear “mercy,” they think “forgiveness when I’ve messed up.” That’s true, but it’s certainly not all. Take Blind Bartimaeus, for example. He was sitting by the road outside Jericho when he heard the commotion of a crowd. Word had spread quickly that Jesus of Nazareth was passing by. Though Bartimaeus couldn’t see Him, he could hear that hope was near. So he cried out with everything in him, “Jesus, Thou Son of David, have mercy on me!”

The Son of God, surrounded by a pressing multitude, stood still for the voice of one man who refused to be hushed. “Bring him to Me,” Jesus said. When Bartimaeus came near, Jesus asked, “What do you want Me to do for you?” The man’s answer was simple and full of faith: “Lord, that I might receive my sight.”

And in that moment, mercy did what religion could not. It opened blind eyes.

That story reveals something vital: mercy isn’t just about forgiveness. Mercy is the power of God reaching into broken places to restore what sin has destroyed. Mercy doesn’t stop at the root of sin; it heals every branch of the curse that grew from it.

Then there is the Canaanite mother in Matthew chapter 15. She wasn’t a Jew, and she knew it. She had no covenant nor scriptural right to approach a Jewish rabbi, especially not the Messiah Himself. But love for her tormented daughter pushed her past the religious and racial lines of her day as she cried, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, Thou Son of David!”

At first, Jesus’ response to her seemed hard when He said, “I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel. It is not fitting to take the children’s bread and cast it to dogs.”
But this woman refused to be offended. She wasn’t bargaining; she was believing as she answered, “Truth, Lord, yet even the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master’s table.”

In that instant, she touched something that transcended covenant boundaries. She reached into a future that hadn’t been revealed yet—the grace age in which anyone who calls upon the Lord will be saved. Jesus could not ignore such faith. He said, “O woman, great is thy faith; be it unto thee even as thou wilt.” And her daughter was healed instantly. 

Notice that it was her cry for mercy that opened a door for a Gentile woman that wasn’t scheduled to open until the Cross. That’s the power of mercy. It always finds a way.

We live in a world governed by natural laws. Gravity keeps your feet on the ground. Inertia keeps your car moving once it’s in motion. Friction allows your tires to grip the road. These are immutable laws—unless a higher law steps in. For instance, the law of lift in aviation can supersede the law of gravity. Spiritual laws work the same way. Jesus demonstrated the law of faith when He said, “Whosoever shall say unto this mountain, Be removed… and shall not doubt in his heart… he shall have whatsoever he saith.” (Mark 11:23). The law of faith can defy what’s naturally possible. When Jesus walked on water, or when the axe head floated for Elisha, spiritual law overrode natural law.

But the Spirit of God taught us something higher still—something Brother Hagin once called “the law above the law.” There are times when spiritual laws have been set in motion by disobedience, by unbelief, or by a long pattern of wrong choices, and those laws begin to produce results that cannot easily be stopped. There is, however, one power that can reach beyond even that: the mercy of God.

Mercy is the highest law in heaven’s court. When justice demands a verdict, mercy writes a pardon. When spiritual consequence says, “It’s too late,” mercy says, “But God…” That’s why even when spiritual laws were set in motion against mankind through Adam’s sin, mercy sent Jesus.

So, yes, natural law bows to spiritual law, but even spiritual law bows to the mercy of God.

Mercy doesn’t cancel law; it fulfills it through love. And when you learn to have faith in that mercy, like the Canaanite woman did, there’s no boundary, no diagnosis, and no situation that can keep you out.

As we step into November and the holiday season begins, I want you to remember that this is the perfect season to remember what we’ve just read—mercy is the atmosphere of God’s family.

The same mercy that welcomed you into His presence is the mercy that now flows through you toward others. As you gather around your table, let mercy be the language you speak. Let kindness set the tone. Let forgiveness, patience, and love rule your home just as they rule heaven’s throne.

So don’t hold back. Come boldly, receive freely, and then give mercy lavishly this season because the same mercy that changed your life will overflow through you to touch everyone around your table.