Mercy, Boundaries, and the Quiet Strength of an Open Heart
There is a tension every thoughtful person eventually faces: How do you keep your heart open in a world that will hurt you… without becoming hardened, cynical, or closed?
We are often told to choose a side. Be loving or be guarded. Forgive or walk away. Hope or protect yourself. But life is rarely that simple.
Somewhere between naïve mercy and bitter self-defense is a narrow path where the soul can stay alive.
I call it this: Don’t swing the sword so hard you cut off your own hand.
What the Parables Really Teach Us
Jesus’ parables were not meant to be religious slogans. They were mirrors.
The Prodigal Son.
The Lost Sheep.
The Lost Coin.
The Good Samaritan.
The Unforgiving Servant.
They all say the same quiet thing in different ways: People fail. People wander. People hurt us. People leave.
And still… they are not beyond return.
The father didn’t lock the door. The shepherd didn’t stop searching. The woman didn’t stop looking.
The Samaritan didn’t pass by. Grace is always reaching.
But grace is not blindness.
When Mercy Becomes Self-Sacrifice
There is a danger in loving without discernment. When we confuse compassion with responsibility.
When we believe we can change what does not want to change. When we carry what was never meant to be ours to carry.
Hope cannot override someone else’s will. People transform when they decide to, not when we believe hard enough. And when we ignore this truth, mercy quietly becomes self-erasure.
On the outside, it looks righteous. On the inside, it feels like disappearing.
The Other Danger: Letting Pain Turn Into Poison
When hurt goes unprocessed, it becomes a weapon. We swing the sword of anger. Of distance.
Of judgment. And if we swing it too hard, we don’t just cut off others, we cut off the part of ourselves that still knows how to love.
That is the cost of bitterness.
Not protection. Transformation into what hurt us.
The Middle Way
It is possible to love unconditionally and protect yourself. The parables never say:
“Pretend nothing happened.”
They say: “Do not let what happened turn you into someone you are not.”
You can leave the door unlocked without standing in the doorway bleeding. You can forgive
without surrendering your boundaries. You can stay soft without staying unsafe.
This is not weakness. This is wisdom.
The Quiet Strength of an Open Heart
Hate feels powerful for a moment. But it is poison to the soul. Mercy, when paired with discernment, keeps the heart alive.
It allows you to say: “I will not become hardened.” “I will not become cruel.” “I will not become small.”
And still: “I will not abandon myself.”
That is the narrow road. And it is where real peace lives. And it is the hardest road to walk.
Troy P Zehnder 