The following article was first published on March 24, 2026 by Radio Veritas Asia.

In 2017, I took my octogenarian father to the Divine Mercy Sanctuary in Kraków, Poland. He had long been devoted to the Divine Mercy devotion, and although the visit was not planned, it meant a great deal to him. As we sat in an Uber taxi making our way through the city towards the sanctuary, he turned to me and asked a question that caught me slightly off guard:

“Is our God truly that merciful that every sin can be forgiven?”

For sure, my father had heard this before, but my answer came quickly — automatically, like predictive texting. Of course, I said yes. God loves us immensely. He forgives. He is full of mercy.

Yet something about the question lingered. Saying the words was easy; believing them deeply was not.

That moment raised a deeper question: Is mercy actually easy to live?

When Mercy Feels Difficult

In theory, mercy is beautiful. In practice, it is far more difficult.

This becomes clear at every level of life. On a wider scale, nations are torn by war, refugees flee famine and violence, and children grow up knowing fear instead of peace. Closer to home, families carry their own wounds: past hurts, disputes over inheritance or property, and relationships strained under pride and resentment — sometimes for years, even decades — without reconciliation.

In society, this struggle is further intensified by deep divisions. Political labels — left, right, center, progressive, moderate, liberal, conservative, libertarian, and others — often become identities rather than viewpoints. In such an environment, disagreement easily hardens into hostility, and dialogue gives way to division.

The same pattern appears in everyday life. At work, credit is sometimes taken or denied unfairly, or colleagues snap under pressure. On social media, conversations quickly escalate into outrage, where winning matters more than understanding. Even within the Church, disagreements over the teachings of the Magisterium, parish decisions, gossip, and past scandals have left wounds that are slow to heal.

All of this points to an uncomfortable truth: mercy is easy to admire, but hard to live. Forgiving someone who has wronged us, choosing patience over anger, or refusing to return hurt for hurt is never simple.

And yet, this is exactly what the Christian life calls for.

Mercy Revealed in Christ

If mercy is so central, then its meaning must be found not in theory, but in Christ Himself.

On the evening of the first Easter Sunday, the disciples were gathered behind locked doors, afraid and uncertain. Into that fear stepped the Risen Christ, and His first words to them were simple: “Peace be with you” (John 20:19).

He did not begin with reproach. He did not remind them of their failures or their absence at the cross. He offered peace. Only after this did He entrust them with their mission: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you” (John 20:21).

The parable of the Prodigal Son tells the same story. The son returns expecting judgment, but instead finds a father who runs towards him, embraces him, and restores him fully. Mercy does not simply forgive—it restores dignity and relationship.

Mercy meets people where they are. It does not wait for perfection. It restores before it sends.

This same mercy is seen at Calvary. One of the criminals crucified alongside Jesus (often referred to as the Good Thief) turns to Him in his final moments and simply says, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42). In response, Jesus assures him, “Today you will be with me in Paradise” (Luke 23:43).

There is no long process of restitution, no time to make amends — only a sincere turning of the heart and a direct appeal to Christ. Mercy meets him there, even at the very end of his life.

When We Struggle to Believe

Even with these biblical images before us, trusting in mercy is not always easy.

In her diary, Saint Faustina recounts the story of an elderly nun who lived with a deep and persistent anxiety. She believed that her confessions had been imperfect and that God had not truly forgiven her. Though her confessors reassured her repeatedly, she remained troubled. One day, she approached Faustina in distress and asked her to pray and ask Jesus directly about her situation. Though hesitant at first, Faustina eventually agreed.

Later, during prayer, she sensed these words in her heart: “Tell her that her disbelief wounds My heart much more than the sins she committed.”

When Faustina shared this with her, the sister broke down in tears; but this time, they were tears of relief. At last, she found peace. The story reveals something deeply human. Often, the real struggle is not whether God forgives, but whether we can accept that forgiveness as real and complete.

Mercy and Justice

Mercy does not ignore justice or deny wrongdoing. Instead, it goes deeper, recognizing that every person still carries dignity and the possibility of renewal. The Cross reveals that mercy and justice are not opposed. They are not competing forces, but part of the same truth. Mercy does not set aside justice — it fulfils and transforms it.

As St. Thomas Aquinas reminds us, every act of God involves both justice and mercy. Even our existence is not owed to us but given. In the same way, forgiveness is never limited to what is deserved. It is something greater.

Pope Francis captured this well when he wrote: “Mercy is the fullness of justice and the most radiant manifestation of God’s truth.”

Mercy, then, lies at the heart of the Christian message. It is not weakness, but strength — the strength to choose compassion over retaliation, and hope over despair.

Living Mercy in Daily Life

If mercy is a gift we receive, it is also something we are called to live. But it rarely begins in dramatic ways. It begins quietly, in the ordinary moments of daily life.

• Within the Church, it means choosing patience over judgment and reconciliation over division. No community is free from disagreement, but mercy shapes how those disagreements are lived.
• In society, mercy often looks like restraint — the decision to listen before reacting, to understand rather than dismiss, to treat others as people rather than opponents.
• Within families, mercy is both the most necessary and the most difficult. Old wounds can run deep, and pride can be hard to set aside. Yet it is often a simple act — a word, an apology, a willingness to begin again — that opens the door to healing.
• And then there is the quiet struggle within us. Many carry guilt, regret, or a sense of failure long after forgiveness has been offered. Learning to let go, and to accept mercy personally, is part of the same journey.

Returning to the Question

Looking back, my father’s question still lingers: Is our God truly that merciful that every sin can be forgiven?

The answer, at least in faith, is a resounding yes.

But that answer carries a challenge. The mercy we receive is not meant to remain abstract. It is meant to shape how we live, how we respond, and how we see others. Mercy is difficult to practice. Yet when it is lived — quietly, patiently, day after day — it has the power to change everything.

In the end, mercy is not proven by what we say about it, but by how we choose to live when it is hardest.

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Image: “Divine Mercy Windows St Felix Thomas Den” (CC BY 2.0) by Roman Catholic Diocese of East Anglia