“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.”
Matthew 5:7 (NET)
Victor Hugo’s masterpiece, Les Misérables, tells the story of Jean Valjean, a man who had labored in prison for 19 years for merely stealing bread to feed his sister’s starving children. His life in hard labor had, in turn, hardened him until he became the criminal his parole papers identified him as. Because of this identity marker, he is stigmatized by his society and denied work, shelter, and food. Once again, he is deprived of his dignity as an image of his Creator, embittered, and left sleeping in the streets like an animal. Until one fateful night…
Valjean finds himself in the village of Digne (which means “worthy” in French). There, the kindly old bishop, Monseigneur Myriel Bienvenu (bienvenue means “welcome” in French), offers Valjean food and shelter without asking any questions. However, that night, Valjean steals the bishop’s silverware and flees. The police capture him and return him to the bishop’s house. But the bishop’s response is truly amazing! Instead of demanding justice or restitution, M. Bienvenu offers mercy.
“My friend,” resumed the Bishop, “before you go, here are your candlesticks. Take them.”
He stepped to the chimneypiece, took the two silver candlesticks, and brought them to Jean Valjean. The two women looked on without uttering a word, without a gesture, without a look that could disconcert the Bishop.
Jean Valjean was trembling in every limb. He took the two candlesticks mechanically, and with a bewildered air.
“Now,” said the Bishop, “go in peace. By the way, when you return, my friend, it is not necessary to pass through the garden. You can always enter and depart through the street door. It is never fastened with anything but a latch, either by day or by night.”
Then, turning to the gendarmes, “You may retire, gentlemen.”
The gendarmes retired.
Jean Valjean was like a man on the point of fainting.
The Bishop drew near to him, and said in a low voice:
“Do not forget, never forget, that you have promised to use this money in becoming an honest man.”
Jean Valjean, who had no recollection of ever having promised anything, remained speechless. The Bishop had emphasized the words when he uttered them. He resumed with solemnity:
“Jean Valjean, my brother, you no longer belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I buy from you; I withdraw it from black thoughts and the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God.”[1]
I still get goosebumps when I read this part of the story. What an incredibly gratuitous act of mercy that forever changes the course of Valjean’s life. For the first time in many years, he is treated as one worthy of dignity and welcome, and it restores his humanity. From this moment on, Valjean’s life is marked by the mercy he has been given, and it leads him to show incredible self-sacrifice and mercy, which, in turn, saves the lives of others.
In establishing his kingdom ethos among his followers, Jesus makes mercy a distinguishing mark of this community. They have received divine mercy. Indeed, when he spoke the words, “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy,” he addressed a large crowd who had just experienced unbelievable mercy from his hands. They were the diseased who had been healed, the excluded who now found a hospitable welcome, and the demon-possessed who had experienced deliverance. Now they were gathered around the mercy-giver, and he was blessing them. They were no longer identified by their malady or misfortune. They were welcomed in and given incredible worth.
Mercy is a distinguishing mark of the kingdom-oriented leader. When we are tempted to condescend, control, or condemn, mercy would confront our arrogance and pride and invite us to recognize the worth of others created in God’s image, just as we are, and offers blessing. Even when correction is necessary, kingdom-minded leaders approach those conversations with the utmost humility, displaying mercy and a heart longing for reconciliation and repair. Mercy-driven leaders see the best in their people, even when their behaviors or attitudes require realignment.
I recall a very difficult conversation I once had with a former supervisor. In a pivotal moment, one that could have led to deeper understanding and trust, I experienced what happens when a leader approaches conflict without mercy. He entered the meeting already having constructed a narrative about my motives, stringing together a few isolated facts and filling in the rest with suspicion and hearsay. Instead of seeking understanding, he confronted me with condescension and accusation, assuming the worst about my intentions. As I tried to defend myself against a story that wasn’t true, the conversation quickly unraveled into a tense standoff, each of us bracing against the other, neither feeling heard. What could have been a clarifying, restorative exchange instead escalated into a fractured relationship, largely because he chose judgment over curiosity, certainty over humility, and confrontation over the mercy of giving me a fair hearing. I look back with grief at how quickly a cordial, productive working relationship unraveled once mercy was abandoned. In its absence, suspicion took root, and the story we held about each other became fixed in ways that now make healing more demanding. As a follower of Christ, I must believe that reconciliation is still possible and desirable. But now it requires more patience, humility, and grace than I believe either of us is capable of outside of a divine intervention. The relationship is dead. Now it requires a resurrection.
Mercy is a kingdom ethic because every person we meet is an image of God. C. S. Lewis once said:
It may be possible for each to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter; it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbour. The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbour’s glory should be laid on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken. It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations.[2]
If we truly are God’s image, it is extremely dangerous to approach others with any posture other than humility or mercy. Our humanity is intricately beautiful and complex, so any condescension, contempt, or merciless confrontation profanes the holy and blasphemes God, who made us in his image and blessed us. When we construct internal narratives about others without listening to them with curiosity or assessing them with humility, we diminish their image-bearing quality, measure them against our own self-centered standards, and reduce them to a base object, unworthy of dignity or welcome. In other words, we dehumanize them. This is why Jesus goes on to say in the Sermon on the Mount that harboring deep hostility and resentment against others amounts to murder in the kingdom (Matt. 5:21-26). Let the reader beware!
Only mercy can humanize others by offering a welcome that honors their God-given dignity. As Lewis said, only humility can bear the weight of others’ glory. Kingdom leadership prizes mercy. It is the fruit of hungering and thirsting for righteousness (Matt. 5:6). And it compels us to be peacemakers, who are sons of God (Matt. 5:9). Why? Because God is merciful. It’s a family trait. Only mercy-driven leadership can animate our teams and organizations for a mission truly worthy of the God we reflect.
I provide the following qualities of mercy-driven leaders to aid us on our journey of reflecting God’s mercy in our leadership. Mercy-driven leaders….
- Recognize and honor the God‑given dignity of every person. Mercy-driven leaders see others as image-bearers, not problems to fix or threats to manage.
- Approach correction with humility and a longing for reconciliation. Even when difficult conversations are necessary, they lead with gentleness rather than dominance.
- Resist the urge to construct negative internal narratives about others without seeking more information with humility. Instead of assuming motives, they suspend judgment and listen with curiosity.
- Choose curiosity over certainty. Mercy-driven leaders ask questions before drawing conclusions.
- Give others a fair hearing. They create space for truth to emerge rather than forcing a predetermined story.
- Humanize rather than dehumanize. Mercy restores dignity; contempt strips it away.
- Carry the “weight of their neighbor’s glory.” They treat others with reverence, aware of their eternal significance.
- Resist condescension, contempt, and merciless confrontation. These postures “profane the holy” because they deny the image of God in others.
- Hunger and thirst for righteousness. Mercy flows from a heart shaped by God’s justice and goodness.
- Practice peacemaking. Mercy-driven leaders move toward reconciliation, not escalation.
- Extend welcome and hospitality. Like the bishop in Les Misérables, they create environments where people feel safe, seen, heard, and valued.
- Bless rather than condemn. Mercy-driven leaders choose blessing as their default posture.
[1] Victor Hugo (Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood), Les Misérables (San Diego: Canterbury Classics, 2015), p. 93-94.
[2] C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory: And Other Addresses (New York: HarperCollins Publishers Inc., 1949), p. 46.
