While sitting in the Orlando, Fla., airport recently, I enjoyed one of my favorite pastimes—people watching. People crowded the terminal, seemingly oblivious to anything around them. Some stared at the giant flight-status board as if in a trance. Others, anxious to leave or happy to arrive, hurried past, dragging luggage, children and spouses. Some pushed by in wheelchairs while others just waited.

Several adults eyed a lean, hard-looking man in the next row of seats. His short-sleeved shirt revealed an artist's canvas of colorful tattoos, and he seemed to watch everyone else as intently as they watched him. I struck up a conversation with him.

Domingo explained that when he had lived in Puerto Rico, a tattoo artist had noticed his bare arms. The artist offered to decorate Domingo with all the artwork he could handle for free, if Domingo would walk around the beach with him and let people see the tattoos.

They struck a deal. If anyone commented on the art, they would be referred to the artist. By accepting the gift, Domingo became a walking mannequin.

He proudly showed me the small drawings on his arms, but his real pride and joy was the color picture of St. Barbara covering his back. Had he paid for it, this one tattoo would have cost him $1,300.

"It's really too bad I have this shirt on," Domingo said, "otherwise you could see all of them and how they work together."

I walked away wondering what kinds of messages I send, and what kinds of advertisements I relay—whether consciously or not.

In Acts 17:28, the apostle Paul writes, "For in Him we live and move and have our being" (New International Version). In other words, as we order our daily lives and move about in this existence, we are living mannequins displaying the works of God, the love of Jesus and the power of the Holy Spirit.

Sometimes we announce truth verbally, sometimes by our actions and sometimes just by our presence and appearance. But we always communicate something.

Domingo's friend, the tattoo artist, wanted as many as possible to see his beautiful workmanship in hopes they would see and be drawn to him.

My friend, the God of the universe, wants no less. He invested the blood of His Son, coloring me in beautiful pictures of Jesus in hopes that the exquisite workmanship would draw many to Himself.

Because I've accepted this gift, my job is to refer others to the Artist.

Some people think Christianity is a "blind leap of faith." They need a clear intellectual understanding of who Christ is and what is involved in following Him.

In John 10:30-33 and 14:6-9, Jesus claimed to be God. The following diagram shows the two alternatives to His claim*:

My friends and I all saw the man but just kept walking. We didn't want to be late for the movies. As we continued on, though, I couldn't stop thinking about him. He didn't look like most of the homeless people scattered among the downtown benches. He was covered in sores—ugly, red blisters aggravated by the hot, summer sun. His clothes hung loosely, his body too thin to fill their dimensions.

Suddenly I thought of Matthew 5:46-47: "If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?" (New International Version).

"I'll meet you in a few minutes," I told my friends. They looked at me questioningly as I walked away.

I sat down on the bench next to the man and soon discovered he had AIDS. He told me his story and I cried, filled with compassion. After I prayed for him, he told me he was grateful for my listening ear.

As I left, I thought about how often we ignore hurting people because we have our own agenda—the woman in the office who always appears depressed; the friend I just can't find the time to talk to. We need to realize that God has a different agenda, and it must become ours: "Love your neighbor as yourself" (Galatians 5:14, NIV).

The wretched, shackled prisoner trembled with fear as he stood before the toughest, fairest judge in the district. "You have been found guilty," the judge solemnly announced. Courtroom observers held their breath, waiting for what they were sure was to come.

Without a doubt the man was guilty. The evidence was clear. The judge had no choice but to pronounce a death sentence. There were no appeals for the horrendous crime, no stays of execution allowed.

Suddenly, the judge did something unprecedented. He said to the prisoner, "Justice must be served. You are guilty. Nevertheless, because of my love for you, I have decided to take your punishment for you. I will die in your place. You are a free man." The judge's gavel pounded.

After a moment, stunned courtroom guards unlocked the prisoner's handcuffs and leg irons, removed the judge's robe and snapped the irons on his wrists and ankles. As the judge was led away to death row, the prisoner numbly walked out of the courtroom door to freedom, tears of gratitude streaming down his cheeks.

In this allegory, God is the judge. Since He is perfectly just, all His actions must serve the universal law of justice. We are like the prisoner. We all deserve the death sentence, because we are all guilty of numerous sins: "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23, New International Version).

In His fairness, God must judge our sin: "The wages of sin is death" (Romans 6:23, NIV). He cannot allow us to inhabit His perfect heaven, that place without a spot of uncleanness, with any thought of wrongdoing or a charge of guilt.

In the supreme act of mercy, God displayed divine favor and forbearance to us guilty offenders. He took our punishment upon Himself by what Jesus Christ did for us at Calvary: "The gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 6:23, NIV).

God's mercy does not end with the forgiveness of our sins. What astounds me as an imperfect human being is that God genuinely feels pity and compassion for us during trials and difficulties. We have the assurance that "the Lord comforts His people and will have compassion on His afflicted ones" (Isaiah 49:13, NIV). Our loving Father does not just feel our pain; He wants to relieve our pain. He will if we trust and obey Him.

The Gospels are filled with examples of how Jesus was moved with compassion to help those who were sick, suffering and in need. Jesus reached out His hands and healed the blind man, Bartimaeus and the 10 lepers. And the woman caught in adultery? He spoke compassionately to her and forgave her, saying, "Neither do I [condemn you]. Go and sin no more" (John 8:1-11, New Living Translation).

We can be sure that our merciful God is beside us through every trial we face and every pain we endure, and will help us live for His glory in every situation.

Although God's mercy toward His own people extends throughout eternity, His mercy toward the unrepentant sinner does not last forever.

Before Alexander the Great would lay siege to a city, he would set up a light, giving notice to those who lived within the city, that if they came to him while that light was still burning, he would spare their lives. But once the light was out—no mercy was to be expected.

In very much the same way, God sets up light after light and waits for sinners to come to Him so that they also may have eternal life. He doesn't want anyone to perish, so He is giving more time for everyone to repent.

But be aware that a time is coming when there will be no more mercy. God does not want us to be destroyed by our sinfulness, so He offers us mercy, but we must be willing to accept it before we run out of time. Those who feel they can wait until later to receive God's offer of mercy can never be sure that they will have the time or opportunity to receive it.

The time is urgent to call people to repentance. We do not know who has a tomorrow, or whose hearts are soft toward God. Right now is the time to show them the mercy that God has liberally given us. The Lord Jesus may return at any moment. While we ourselves must be ready, we must warn those who have not heard of His gracious mercy or who have not heeded God's call.

When I was a senior in high school, I received a scholarship from a college I had no intention of attending. While I appreciated their offer, I did not want to attend school in that state, so I declined. Then I remembered a friend who studied there, and he needed some financial aid.

So, in an act that made perfect sense to a 17-year-old, I called this school (collect, by the way) and asked if I could share my scholarship with my friend, Joe. While I was grateful for their generous offer, I knew someone who could really use that scholarship money. He already attended their fine institution.

Well, the registrar's office enthusiastically explained that I had neither the right nor the authority to volunteer my scholarship to another student.

I tried to explain that since I had my own scholarship money and my friend really needed financial help, it would seem logical that I pass along this scholarship offer to Joe. Unfortunately—they explained—the rules of college financial aid prevented this. The money was designed only for me and could not be transferred to another person.

Years later, it occurred to me that just as my scholarship could not be transferred to someone else, neither can God's gift of grace be transferred from person to person. The offer to forgive one's sins comes directly from God Himself to a specific person.

Just as I could not give the scholarship money to Joe, neither can I give my salvation to others, no matter how badly they need it or how desperately I want them to accept it. I can only share the message of salvation.

Trey Graham serves as minister to adults at Parkway Hills Baptist Church in Plano, Texas. Trey and his wife, Bretta, live in Plano and have one child.