Throughout Scripture and theological tradition, God frequently works through individuals to extend mercy to others. These individuals function as intercessors—persons who stand in relational proximity to both divine compassion and human brokenness. In some cases, the person receiving mercy may be profoundly hardened, violent, or psychologically disordered. The moral and spiritual tension becomes especially acute when the recipient exhibits traits associated with psychopathy: callousness, lack of empathy, manipulativeness, and a pattern of harm toward others.
Defining a Mercy Moment
A mercy moment is a decisive point in time when compassion is intentionally extended as a redemptive opportunity. In theological terms, a mercy moment is when God’s judgment would be justified, yet an opportunity is intentionally given for repentance, change, and restoration. It is often relational and deeply personal: someone stands in the gap—through love, truth, or intercession—and the individual confronted with that mercy must decide whether to soften or harden their heart. Mercy moments are crossroads events; they expose character and redirect trajectory, either toward restoration or deeper entrenchment in destructive patterns.
Other terms that can describe aspects of a mercy moment include kairos moment (a divinely appointed time of decision), grace encounter, redemptive crossroads, intercessory intervention, moment of clemency, moral inflection point, and window of repentance. In pastoral theology, it has been referred to as a call to repentance or a divine invitation. In restorative justice language, it might be described as a restorative opportunity or transformative justice moment. Though the terminology varies across disciplines—spiritual, psychological, or legal—the core idea remains consistent: a mercy moment is a time-sensitive opportunity in which compassion interrupts the natural progression of consequences and invites a different future.
Psychopaths and Evil: Targets for Mercy Moments
Psychopaths and individuals who embody what is commonly call “evil” often become central figures in mercy moments because they represent the clearest contrast between destruction and compassion. A mercy moment is most visible—and most meaningful—where the stakes are highest. When a person consistently harms others, lacks empathy, or exploits relationships, the moral tension becomes unmistakable. In such cases, the offer of mercy is not sentimental; it is confrontational. It places love directly in the presence of cruelty and exposes the true nature of the heart receiving it. Mercy toward the deeply hardened is not about excusing behavior but about revealing whether transformation is possible at all.
From a theological perspective, God’s pattern has often been to address the most resistant hearts precisely because they stand at the edge of irreversibility. Scripture repeatedly shows God sending prophets to the most violent kings, Jesus dining with tax collectors and sinners, and grace reaching persecutors like Saul of Tarsus. The more entrenched the evil, the more dramatic the mercy if it is received. Psychopaths, by virtue of their emotional detachment and moral indifference, are at a spiritual and relational crossroads where either trajectory—further dehumanization or radical change—becomes starkly defined. Mercy moments clarify that crossroads.
Psychologically, individuals with psychopathic traits often operate without internal brakes such as guilt or empathy. That makes external moral confrontation—especially when delivered through unexpected compassion—one of the few things that can disrupt their narrative of power and control. A mercy moment destabilizes their worldview. It says: You are seen, your actions matter, and you are being offered something you did not earn. Whether they reject or receive that offer reveals the deepest structure of their character. For this reason, mercy moments frequently gather around those who seem least likely to change—because that is where the line between evil and redemption is most clearly drawn.
The question then emerges: What happens when God creates a mercy moment through an intercessor and places that mercy before someone capable of great evil? What are the consequences depending on whether the individual chooses mercy or rejects it?
This article explores the theological pattern of intercessory mercy, the moral responsibility of the recipient, and the diverging trajectories that follow acceptance or rejection of grace. It concludes with a modern example frequently cited in Christian discourse: David Berkowitz.
Intercessors as Instruments of Mercy
Biblically, an intercessor is someone who stands in the gap (Ezekiel 22:30), pleading for mercy or acting as a conduit of divine compassion. Moses interceded for Israel after the golden calf incident (Exodus 32). Abraham interceded for Sodom (Genesis 18). Jesus Himself is described as the ultimate intercessor (Hebrews 7:25).
In these narratives, the intercessor is not the source of mercy but the vessel. God creates a moment—often a kairos moment—where mercy is placed before a person or group facing judgment. The intercessor embodies love, warning, truth, and compassion simultaneously. Importantly, the intercessor cannot force repentance; they can only offer the opportunity.
When this framework is applied to individuals with severe antisocial or psychopathic tendencies, the stakes appear heightened. Psychopathy, as described in psychological literature (Hare, 1999), includes traits such as shallow affect, lack of remorse, and persistent violation of others’ rights. Yet theology maintains that no human being is outside the scope of divine appeal. The presence of an intercessor suggests that God’s mercy remains available—even to those who appear emotionally unreachable.
The Mercy Moment as Moral Crossroads
A mercy moment occurs when the individual must choose between two trajectories: continuing in destructive patterns or turning toward humility and repentance. Scripture repeatedly presents such crossroads. Cain was warned before killing Abel (Genesis 4:7). Pharaoh was given multiple opportunities to relent before devastation followed (Exodus 7–12). Jonah proclaimed impending judgment to Nineveh, but repentance reversed destruction (Jonah 3).
The theological pattern shows that mercy precedes judgment. God does not delight in destruction (Ezekiel 18:23). Instead, He provides opportunities for change—often through human agents which theologians have called “intercessors.”
For individuals with psychopathic tendencies, such moments may not evoke emotional empathy, but they still present cognitive choice. Even if affective remorse is impaired, moral agency remains. The intercessor’s role is to embody steadfast compassion, truth, and non-retaliation, modeling an alternative to cruelty.
From here, two divergent outcomes unfold.
Outcome 1: The Psychopath Chooses Evil
If the individual rejects mercy, hardening themselves further, the trajectory typically intensifies destructiveness and the person experience a downward spiritual, psychological and physiological devolution. This downward devolution is a crisis-driven breakdown of the ego and existential dread, leading to profound spiritual emptiness, psychological anguish (despair, confusion), and physiological exhaustion. Historically God appears to turn the person over to their own depravity.
Biblically, Pharaoh’s repeated refusal resulted in escalating consequences. Saul’s refusal to heed correction deepened paranoia and violence (1 Samuel 18–26). The pattern suggests that rejecting mercy solidifies character in the direction already chosen.
Theologically, the rejection of mercy results in increasing moral isolation. Romans 1 describes a progression in which individuals are “given over” to their chosen path when they persistently reject truth. Mercy refused does not eliminate accountability; rather, it clarifies it.
For the intercessor, this outcome carries a different trajectory. The intercessor is not morally responsible for the rejection. Ezekiel 33 outlines the watchman principle: if the warning is given faithfully, responsibility shifts to the hearer. The intercessor may experience grief, spiritual warfare, or even persecution. Yet their faithfulness strengthens their own moral and spiritual formation. Like Jeremiah or Jesus Himself, rejection does not nullify obedience.
It is not uncommon for the intercessor to become a witness to hardened evil—a living testimony that mercy was genuinely offered and deliberately refused. In such cases, the psychopath’s long-term trajectory often includes continued imprisonment, profound social isolation, and entrenched patterns of relational dysfunction. Rejection of mercy does not merely preserve the status quo; it typically intensifies moral rigidity and emotional disconnection, solidifying a life path marked by alienation and loss of trust.
For the intercessor, however, the consequences unfold along a very different axis. To stand in the gap for someone capable of great harm is to enter into a costly form of love. The intercessor is drawn into deeper alignment with divine compassion not because the outcome is successful, but because the act of offering mercy reshapes the one who offers it. In theological terms, the intercessor participates in the pattern of Christ, who loved and spoke truth even to those who rejected Him. This alignment is spiritual formation through obedience: the intercessor learns to love without guarantee, to speak truth without control over results, and to remain faithful in the presence of moral darkness.
Yet this alignment is not without cost. The intercessor often bears emotional weight, grief, and even trauma from witnessing cruelty up close. There may be feelings of sorrow, moral injury, or exhaustion when mercy is met with manipulation or further harm. In some cases, the intercessor may suffer relational loss, misunderstanding from others, or accusations of naïveté for having extended compassion in the first place. The intercessor also carries the painful knowledge that love was offered and refused—a burden similar to that carried by prophets and, ultimately, by Christ Himself.
Thus, deeper alignment with divine compassion does not mean a life of ease or emotional distance. It means being shaped by a mercy that is strong enough to confront evil, tender enough to suffer with the wounded, and resilient enough to remain faithful when redemption is rejected. The intercessor becomes not only a messenger of mercy but a bearer of its cost, participating in a form of redemptive suffering that mirrors the heart of God.
The Sealing of the Subject’s Fate
In many spiritual and theological traditions, a mercy moment is not limited to a single instant but unfolds over a brief, fixed period of time. After the initial confrontation with mercy, the subject often enters a window of grace—a defined period in which reflection, conviction, and change are possible. In this framework, the following thirty days, sometimes called “The season of 30 days,” functions as a probationary space where the individual is inwardly and outwardly tested. During this time, the person is given the time to choose humility over pride, truth over manipulation, and repentance over self-justification. The mercy moment continues to echo through daily choices, relationships, and inner responses. But ultimately the subject must contact the intercessor and give them the mercy they withheld from them in the mercy moment.
Within this particular theological framework, the thirty-day extension of the mercy moment includes not only internal reflection but an outward act of restitution. If, during the original mercy moment, the subject withheld compassion, truth, apology, or protection from the intercessor, then genuine repentance would require concrete repair. This would mean initiating contact with the intercessor—voluntarily, humbly, and without manipulation—to offer the mercy that was previously denied. Such contact is not about relieving guilt or regaining access, but about demonstrating transformed will. Repentance, in this view, must move beyond private remorse into relational correction. The willingness to seek out the one who was harmed and extend the mercy once refused becomes tangible evidence that the heart has truly shifted rather than merely experienced temporary conviction.
The Season of 30 Days
The number thirty has long been considered spiritually significant or “auspicious” in biblical and theological symbolism. Moses fasted for thirty days, Jesus began His ministry around the age of thirty, and periods of preparation and testing often span this length of time. In this interpretive model, thirty days represent a complete cycle of moral and spiritual decision-making—a full season in which the heart reveals its true direction. It is enough time for denial to soften, for resistance to surface, and for genuine change to either begin or be definitively rejected. The person is no longer acting out of shock or emotional reactivity, but out of settled intent.
Within this theological lens, if the subject persistently refuses repentance throughout that full season of 30 days—if they continue to rationalize evil, reject truth, and harden themselves against mercy—then their trajectory becomes fixed. This is what some traditions describe as becoming reprobate: not because grace is weak, but because the will has become immovably opposed to it. In this view, the sealing of fate is not God withdrawing mercy arbitrarily, but the person permanently refusing it. The thirty days do not create damnation; they reveal it. What follows is not the absence of grace in theory, but the absence of openness in the human heart to ever receive it.
Outcome 2: The Psychopath Chooses Mercy
If, however, the individual chooses mercy—turning from harm and seeking transformation—the trajectory shifts dramatically. Scripture provides numerous examples of profound moral reversals. The Ninevites repented. King Manasseh, once violently wicked, humbled himself and was restored (2 Chronicles 33). The Apostle Paul, once persecutor of Christians, became a proponent of the very faith he sought to destroy (Acts 9).
Theologically, repentance reorients destiny. Mercy does not erase consequences, but it transforms identity. The former perpetrator becomes, paradoxically, a testimony to grace. Such transformations often involve acknowledgment of harm, submission to justice, and ongoing acts of restitution where possible.
For the intercessor, acceptance of mercy by the recipient becomes a source of profound validation and shared redemption. Their obedience becomes part of a larger restorative narrative. In many Christian traditions, this reflects the joy described in Luke 15: “There is joy in heaven over one sinner who repents.”
Importantly, choosing mercy does not necessarily eliminate structural consequences. Legal penalties may remain. Trust may take years to rebuild. But spiritually and morally, the direction of the life changes from entropy toward restoration.
A Modern Example: David Berkowitz
David Berkowitz, known as the “Son of Sam,” murdered six people in New York City during 1976–1977 and wounded several others. He was convicted and sentenced to multiple life terms. While incarcerated, Berkowitz reports experiencing a Christian conversion in 1987 after reading the Psalms and being given a Gideon Bible. He later adopted the name “Son of Hope,” expressing remorse and participating in prison ministry.
From a theological perspective, Berkowitz’s case illustrates a modern mercy moment. Individuals in prison reportedly reached out to him; chaplains and volunteers functioned as intercessors. He faced a crossroads: continue in manipulation and notoriety, or pursue repentance and spiritual transformation.
Observers debate the sincerity of his conversion. Psychology reminds us that individuals with psychopathic traits may mimic remorse. Yet from a theological standpoint, the possibility of transformation cannot be dismissed outright. The key indicators become consistency over time, willingness to accept consequences, and sustained humility.
If genuine, Berkowitz represents Outcome 2—a life trajectory altered by choosing mercy over continued evil. If insincere, he would exemplify Outcome 1—using the language of mercy while remaining unchanged. Only long-term fruit reveals the authenticity of repentance (Matthew 7:16).
The Role of the Intercessor and Their Outcome
When a person takes on the role of an intercessor—standing between mercy and evil—they enter into a vocation that reshapes their inner world. The consequences for the intercessor are both profoundly good and deeply painful, often at the same time. To offer love to someone capable of great harm is to step into moral tension: the intercessor must hold compassion and realism together, hope and grief together, courage and vulnerability together.
On the positive side, the intercessor experiences a deepening of moral clarity. They come to see more clearly what mercy truly is—not sentimentality, but costly faithfulness. Their conscience becomes refined; they learn to distinguish between naïve optimism and grounded hope. Spiritually, the intercessor often develops a stronger sense of purpose, knowing they have acted in alignment with what they believe God’s heart to be. This produces a form of inner peace that does not depend on outcomes. Even when mercy is rejected, the intercessor can say, “I did what love required of me.” That knowledge becomes a stabilizing center.
At the same time, the negative consequences are real. The intercessor is frequently exposed to psychological darkness—manipulation, cruelty, and moral emptiness. Prolonged exposure to such realities can lead to compassion fatigue, secondary trauma, or what some theologians and psychologists call moral injury: the pain that comes from witnessing acts that violate one’s deepest values. The intercessor may struggle with sadness, disillusionment, or even anger toward God for allowing such hardness to exist. They may also feel lonely, because few people understand what it is like to care for someone who does not reciprocate in human ways.
There is also the sorrow of limits. Intercessors eventually come face to face with a humbling truth: love does not control outcomes. They can offer mercy, speak truth, and remain present—but they cannot force repentance. This can be one of the most painful lessons in spiritual life. The intercessor must grieve what might have been.
So what is the ultimate emotional outcome for the intercessor—happiness or sorrow?
The honest answer is: both, but not in equal measure at the same time. In the short and medium term, sorrow often dominates. There is grief over rejected mercy, fatigue from carrying emotional weight, and sadness over human brokenness. However, at the deepest level, the intercessor’s long-term outcome is not despair but a quiet, resilient joy—a bliss rooted not in success, but in fidelity.
This bliss is different from happiness as pleasure or ease. It is closer to what Scripture calls “blessedness”: the strange but real peace that comes from knowing one’s life is aligned with truth and love. Even when outcomes are tragic, the intercessor can rest in the knowledge that they did not harden their own heart. They did not become cruel in response to cruelty. They remained human in the face of dehumanization.
So while the intercessor may carry more sorrow than most, they also carry a deeper joy than most—the joy of having loved when it was costly, and of having stood in the gap when it mattered. That combination produces a life that is heavy with meaning, even when it is light on comfort.
Aftercare and Support for the Intercessor
When someone has served in the role of an intercessor—especially in situations involving severe harm, manipulation, or psychopathic behavior—aftercare is not optional; it is essential. Standing in the gap for another person exposes the intercessor to intense emotional, spiritual, and psychological strain. Even if the intercessor remained strong and grounded during the mercy moment itself, the aftermath can bring delayed grief, exhaustion, intrusive thoughts, or a sense of spiritual depletion. Being used as a Divine instrument and offering mercy does not make the person immune to trauma.
One critical aspect of support is trauma-informed therapy. Intercessors who have been exposed to prolonged deception, emotional volatility, threats, or moral injury may experience symptoms similar to secondary traumatic stress. Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) is one therapeutic modality that has been shown to help individuals process distressing memories and reduce the emotional charge attached to them. EMDR does not erase events; rather, it helps the nervous system reprocess experiences so they no longer feel overwhelming or destabilizing. For an intercessor who replayed conversations, betrayal, or moments of confrontation repeatedly in their mind, EMDR can reduce hyperarousal and restore emotional equilibrium.
Beyond individual therapy, structured support systems are helpful. This may include pastoral counseling, spiritual direction, trusted peer groups, or support groups that focus on survivors of psychopaths. Intercessors often need a safe environment where they can speak honestly about anger, confusion, doubt, or disappointment without being shamed for those reactions. Spiritual bypassing—minimizing pain by prematurely declaring “God is in control”—can be harmful. Healthy aftercare allows lament alongside faith.
Practical boundaries are also part of recovery. An intercessor may need to disengage from direct contact with the individual they were trying to help, particularly if manipulation or harm continues. Rest, physical health, prayer practices, journaling, and reconnecting with life-giving relationships all help restore balance. The goal is not to retreat from compassion permanently, but to rebuild strength so that mercy does not become self-neglect.
Ultimately, aftercare honors a crucial truth: even those who carry mercy need mercy. Just as first responders require decompression after crisis exposure, intercessors require intentional care to prevent burnout and long-term psychological harm. With appropriate therapeutic support, including modalities like EMDR, combined with spiritual and relational grounding, the intercessor can move from survival mode back into wholeness—carrying wisdom from the experience without being defined or damaged by it.
Conclusion
God’s use of intercessors to create mercy moments reveals a profound theological truth: mercy is offered even to those who seem least likely to respond. The intercessor stands as both witness and conduit of divine compassion. Yet the choice remains with the recipient.
When mercy is rejected, evil hardens and consequences deepen. When mercy is embraced, even the darkest life can shift toward redemption. The intercessor’s trajectory, meanwhile, is defined not by the outcome but by faithfulness.
In the tension between justice and compassion, mercy moments illuminate the moral dignity—and danger—of human choice. They remind us that no one is beyond the reach of divine appeal, yet no one is exempt from accountability. The crossroads remains, and the direction chosen shapes eternity.
Dr. Randi Fredricks, Ph.D.
Author Bio
Dr. Randi Fredricks is a leading expert in the field of mental health counseling and psychotherapy, with over three decades of experience in both research and practice. She holds a PhD from The Institute of Transpersonal Psychology and has published ground-breaking research on communication, mental health, and complementary and alternative medicine. Dr. Fredricks is a best-selling author of books on the treatment of mental health conditions with complementary and alternative medicine. Her work has been featured in leading academic journals and is recognized worldwide. She currently is actively involved in developing innovative solutions for treating mental health. To learn more about Dr. Fredricks’ work, visit her website: https://drrandifredricks.com
References
The Holy Bible (NIV or ESV): Genesis 4; Genesis 18; Exodus 32; Ezekiel 18; Ezekiel 33; 2 Chronicles 33; Luke 15; Acts 9; Romans 1; Hebrews 7:25.
Hare, R. D. (1999). Without Conscience: The Disturbing World of the Psychopaths Among Us. Guilford Press.
Powlison, D. (2000). “Psychopathy and the Heart.” Journal of Biblical Counseling.
Wright, N. T. (2003). The Resurrection of the Son of God. Fortress Press.
Moltmann, J. (1974). The Crucified God. SCM Press.
Britannica. “David Berkowitz.” Encyclopaedia Britannica.
Berkowitz, D. (2006). Son of Hope (prison ministry testimony materials).
