Husbands are a lot of things.
Most people don't think of grace and mercy when they think of their husbands, but I do. I'm good at law. If I'd have been alive in Jesus' day, I probably would have been a Pharisee.
But not my husband.
He would have never been with the men trying to stone the adulteress. He wouldn't have stoned Stephen. He wouldn't have beat the Jewish slaves to get them to make bricks faster.
He is the epitamy of grace. He shows mercy more than any other human I know. He's not a sissy and doesn't get walked on--which is what I typically think when I envision a grace-filled person.
He treats people as equals--even when society tells them they are not. Seeing him do this with a mechanic who spoke very little English a few weeks ago gave me chills. Not only did he treat him fairly, he shook his hand and looked him in the eye. He treated him with respect.
He does it to our children. While I threaten and always have a consequence ready, he asks and jokes and they do whatever they were asked while laughing (most of the time--they ARE kids).
He did it to me just today. Instead of yelling or getting angry over the fact that he had to drive down to Dallas to get my broken-down car (which looks like it was because of something I did) he just did it and joked with the girls about farts on the way home. I would have made sure he knew how inconvenienced I was. I would have made him feel stupid.
But he never does that. Not with me. Not with our kids. And not with strangers.
He models grace and mercy. And through him, I get a glimpse of what a loving and good and kind Heavenly Father I have.