When we use a word or phrase often enough, it begins to lose its meaning. As a child, I remember watching a children's edutainment television program. There was a song about shadows, and by the time it was over, the word "shadow" had lost its meaning in my head. I think there are many terms repeated so often in the context of Church that they lose their meaning to a certain extent. "Tender mercies of the Lord" is one of those endangered phrases.
Lehi finds himself in "a dark and dreary waste." Even though this was a dream, I still feel bad for him. This morning I had a dream that a funnel cloud formed above my home town, and was rapidly bearing down on me and extended family members visiting my uncle's house. It was terrifying, and I am glad I could wake up and console myself that it was a dream. Lehi's dream goes on for hours. After hours of traveling in this empty telestial wasteland, he begins to beg the Lord for help.
"And after I had traveled for the space of many hours in darkness, I began to pray unto the Lord that he would have mercy on me, according to the multitude of his tender mercies" (1Ne. 8:8).
Elder Bednar's talk about tender mercies solidified the definition of the phrase as a reference to miraculous events that you recognize as deliberate assistance or communication from the Lord, but might be missed or dismissed as coincidence by others. I was in a depression as a teenager, and as I sat on the floor of my bedroom with tears leaking onto my cheeks, I saw a book on my desk. I felt prompted to pick it up and turn to a certain page number, 231 or something like that. It was about psychology. I had never read the book before, but as I opened to the specific page number, I looked at the chapter heading at the top of the page: Depression. I did not even read what was in the paragraphs below the heading; it was a sign to me that God was aware of my situation, and cared about me. This was a tender mercy. As Lehi indicates, the Lord possesses a multitude of them.
To help put some verve and meaning back into those dilapidated words, we can start defining them.
Tender
Tenderness denotes awareness of the fragile nature of something valuable, and the application of gentleness in response to its fragility. It implies kindness and affection, both in actions and feelings. The word translated as "jealous" in the ten commandments (I the Lord thy God am a jealous God) is the Hebrew qannah, meaning "possessing deep and sensitive feelings." Nurturing and care are also implied by tenderness. Green shoots from newly planted seeds require tender care because they are fragile, and they receive it because they are beloved and prized.
Mercy
Mercy is some leniency or pardon from difficulty given to someone who has not earned it. To forgive a debt is mercy. Blessings are the result of obedience (D&C 130:20-21). Mercy is not merit-based. (True, repentance usually precedes mercy, but that simply means confessing wrongs and pledging not to do them again. Attempts to right the wrongs, "restitution," are almost always inadequate, or impossible.) Most people who experience mercy, the removal of some physical or emotional burden, erupt with joy, humility, and gratitude. Lehi was commanded to follow a "man" in a "white robe." He was obeying, and he found himself in a dreary waste as a result. He did not pray for blessings; he prayed instead for tender (kind, gentle) mercy (undeserved relief, liberation) from the Lord. This pattern of following the commandments, and begging the Lord for a way to make resulting difficulties livable, is familiar in my life. I am faring far better than I deserve to.
The Willie and Martin handcart companies told amazing stories of tender mercies shown to them as they moved through their own dreary wasteland of pre-railroad North America. Miracles occurred along the way to help them reach Zion. Food appeared out of nowhere, or was given by strange messengers. The effect was more than survival; it confirmed the faith of those who experienced these events. My situation did not change when I opened the book to a seemingly random page number that entered my head; my faith that God was aware of me was strengthened. It is a strange two-edged sword to not be delivered, yet know that God is watching you. You know that He could deliver you if He wanted, but He does not. That means that He actually approves of what you are going through. It is not pointless suffering, but part of the test of your life.
Everyone with any faith has stories like this they could tell, of things working out just right, of heroic rescuers showing up in the nick of time, of the confluence of materials arriving to meet needs out of nowhere. These kinds of experiences are sweet and desirable, and a result of genuine interaction between God and His children. I hope we do not casually blurt out "tendermercies," but try to keep the meaning of the words alive and special in our mouths and minds.
