In his excellent treatment of the Bible’s passages on God’s love, The Difficult Doctrine of the Love of God (Crossway, 2000), D.A. Carson retells the Les Misérables’ story of Jean Valjean to make the point that we must “never, never underestimate the power of the love of God to break down and transform the most amazingly hard individuals”:
“Sentenced to a nineteen-year term of hard labor for stealing bread, Jean Valjean becomes a hard and bitter man. No one could break him; everyone feared him. Released from prison, Valjean finds it difficult to survive, as innkeepers will not welcome him and work is scarce. Then a kind bishop welcomes him into his home. But Valjean betrays the trust. During the night he creeps off into the darkness, stealing some of the family silver.
“But Valjean is brought back next morning to the bishop’s door by three policemen. They had arrested him and found the stolen silver on him. A word from the bishop, and the wretch would be incarcerated for life. But the bishop instantly exclaims, ‘So here you are! I’m delighted to see you. Had you forgotten that I gave you the candlesticks as well? They’re silver like the rest, and worth a good 200 francs. Did you forget to take them?’
“Jean Valjean is released, and he is transformed. When the gendarmes withdraw, the bishop insists on giving the candlesticks to his speechless, mortified, thankful guest. ‘Do not forget, do not ever forget that you have promised me to use the money to make yourself an honest man,’ admonishes the bishop. And meanwhile the detective constantly pursuing Valjean, Javert, who is consumed by justice but who knows nothing of forgiveness or compassion, crumbles when his black-and-white categories of mere justice fail to cope with grace that goes against every instinct for revenge. Valjean is transformed; Javert jumps off a bridge and drowns in the Seine.
“Of course, this is Christian love – i.e., the love of God mediated in this case through a bishop. But this is how it should be, for God’s love so transforms us that we mediate it to others, who are thereby transformed. We love because he first loved us; we forgive because we stand forgiven.” (81-82)
Before David the shepherd boy became David King of Israel, he was ruthlessly persecuted by King Saul, who sought to kill the “anointed one” who would take his throne. Yet despite this enmity, David enjoyed an intimate friendship with Jonathan, the son of Saul. Jonathan was exceedingly kind to David during this difficult period, and, knowing that David would ascend to the throne, he made him promise to be kind to his descendants.
In David: Man of Prayer, Man of War (Banner of Truth, 2011), Walter Chantry explains what would normally have happened to one of Saul’s descendants once someone like David came to power: “It was common in the Middle East for a newly-crowned ruler to exterminate the males of the former ruler’s household. Any prominence of one who survived this carnage would give rise to whispers that he was a rival for the throne. Then ordinary citizens might kill him to gain special favor with the present king.”
But David remembered the promise he made to his beloved friend Jonathan, and he would fulfill this promise to one of Jonathan’s sons, who was also the grandson of the man who turned him into an outlaw and sought to kill him. This person was Mephibosheth, who was dropped by his nurse at at young age, leaving him lame and dependent on others’ kindness for the rest of his life.
Chantry describes David’s proactive kindness: “David was not content to wait until someone from the household of Saul appealed to him for aid. He searched out the relatives of Jonathan” for someone to show kindness to (187).
Now watch this:
When Mephibosheth appeared before David, anxious and uncertain before the new King, he was met with gentle words and given gifts, the large estate formerly held by King Saul, and a position of honor in the King’s court. For the rest of his days he would be fed at the King’s table and all would know that he “enjoyed the special favor of David” (189).
Chantry then turns to the reader:
“Do you show kindness to others as God has showered undeserved blessings on you? Too many say, ‘I’m not aware of those who have needs’! But we must search out opportunities to do good…There are widows, the infirm, and prisoners in great need of attention in their sufferings” (188).
I was moved and inspired by this example, and I couldn’t agree with Chantry’s point more. We shouldn’t wait for the needy to come knocking at our door to be kind and generous. Rather, just as we’ve been shown extravagant grace and kindness, we too should look for opportunities to show mercy and kindness. If we do, we won’t be disappointed: they are all around us.