Mercy Over Ritual: When Leadership Heals or Harms
In a world where authority often masquerades as righteousness, Jesus’ words pierce through the noise: “Go and learn what this means: I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” (Matthew 9:13). This was not a poetic aside—it was a rebuke to leaders who had weaponized Scripture to exclude, shame, and control. Today, we revisit this moment not just as a theological truth, but as a leadership lens. What happens when those in power misinterpret God’s heart? And what kind of healing unfolds when leaders embody mercy?
The Weight of Misapplied Leadership
Leadership is a serious responsibility. Whether in the church, at home, or in society, leaders influence the emotional and spiritual health of the people they guide. When leadership is shaped by mercy, people grow and thrive. But when it is built on misunderstanding, misuse of Scripture, or stubborn pride, it can harm the very people it is meant to help.
The Pharisees in Jesus’ time were not evil caricatures. They were sincere, disciplined, and deeply committed to protecting holiness. Yet their perspective was flawed. They believed sacrifice was the highest form of devotion—focusing on rituals, strict rules, and keeping away from “sinners.” In Matthew 9 , they were shocked that Jesus ate with tax collectors and outcasts. To them, mercy looked like compromise, healing on the Sabbath felt like rebellion, and welcoming outsiders seemed like corruption.
But Jesus saw the damage their leadership caused. The sick were left without healing, the broken were ignored, and the outcasts were silenced. Their way of teaching built walls instead of bridges. Their leadership made life heavy and painful for those under them.
The Man They Refused to Learn From
There was once a man—born blind. Not by choice, not by sin, but by mystery. He had spent his life in shadows, begging at the temple gates, invisible to the very leaders who claimed to represent God.
Then one day, Jesus passed by. No ritual. No temple. Just mud, spit, and mercy. And suddenly—light. Sight. A miracle.
But instead of rejoicing, the leaders interrogated him. They could not celebrate his healing because it did not fit their framework. It happened on the Sabbath. It came from a man they did not approve of. So they attacked the miracle to protect their theology.
“Give glory to God,” they said. “We know this man is a sinner.”
The healed man, still blinking in wonder, replied, “Whether He is a sinner or not, I do not know. One thing I do know: I was blind, but now I see.”
But they could not handle that. They hurled insults. “You were steeped in sin at birth—how dare you teach us!” And they threw him out.
This was not just rejection—it was a refusal to learn. The Pharisees had Scripture, tradition, and authority. But they lacked the one thing Jesus said mattered most: mercy. They were so committed to being right, they could not recognize what was good. So they silenced the healed instead of learning from him.
Leadership Principles to Learn and Relearn
Leadership must remain teachable, regardless of age or title. Authority does not exempt anyone from humility, for Jesus often sends leaders “back to school”—not to shame them, but to save them. A leader’s willingness to relearn is, in fact, a mark of spiritual maturity. Yet when theology is misapplied, it can make people’s lives miserable. Leaders who twist Scripture to defend tradition or control end up burdening the vulnerable. The blind man was healed, yet rejected; the Sabbath was meant for rest, yet became a prison. Misapplication always leads to suffering. True leadership, therefore, must allow goodness to be visible in its decisions. Jesus asked, “Would you not rescue your donkey on the Sabbath?” How much more, then, should leaders rescue people? Leadership must reflect goodness, not merely correctness. This is why Jesus reminded His followers that the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath. Spiritual practices were never meant to bind people, but to bless them. The Sabbath is a gift—a sacred space for emotional, physical, mental, and relational healing. To embrace this truth, leaders must be willing to “unload and reload” when God’s Word demands it. Relearning requires letting go of old frameworks and embracing God’s heart afresh. This is not weakness—it is wisdom. When leaders change, people heal. And at the center of all leadership lies mercy. Mercy is not compromise; it is covenantal faithfulness. As Hosea 6:6 declares, God desires mercy, not sacrifice. Mercy is not soft—it is loyal, relational, and deeply holy. Leadership that reflects this covenantal mercy becomes a living witness to God’s heart.Leadership That Reflects God’s Heart
True leadership is not about enforcing purity; it is about showing grace. Mercy is not weakness but divine strength. It listens before it speaks, it reaches out to those who are ignored, it heals even on the Sabbath, and it shares meals with those who are cast aside. Jesus did not only speak about mercy—He lived it. In doing so, He changed the meaning of leadership. He showed that real authority is not about control, but about care. So let us be leaders who listen to those who have been healed, who are willing to learn from unexpected places, who lead with mercy, and who never stop returning to the lessons of Jesus when He says, “Go and learn.”