Tuesday, February 3, 2015


I thought I knew what grace was.

Um. I didn't.

I probably still don't.

I liked using the word; it sounds really pretty. But now I'm starting to know that most times it's not pretty and most times giving out grace means giving up pride. Because sometimes you'll have to just keep quiet, even when you know know KNOW that they're all wrong and that you're all right. And when you might end up looking like the bad guy. (Over and over again.) And most times grace is just taking that blame and biting your tongue and bearing it. And most times that is the hardest thing in the world. 

I used to unconsciously think would be easier that all that; everything kind of is before you try it. I should have known differently when the ultimate grace came through sinless hands and feet nailed to a tree and a Father turning His back. 

Grace is giving something away. Something that's yours. Something they do not deserve. And that goes against every human bone in our bodies because we want things to be fair.

We forget easily that if things were actually "fair"...we'd all be left to our sin and left to our punishment. If things were actually fair, the King would never have died to redeem His harlot of a bride. If things were actually fair, we, prodigals, could never be welcomed home.  If things were actually fair, we'd realize that no matter what, we are not completely in the right about anything, and the other person is not completely in the wrong. If things were actually fair, the dust would never have become flesh.

Usually if something seems impossibly hard, it's because my pride is getting rather uncomfortable. And somewhere inside I know that really means I need to let go. Right then. Completely. And I need to give a little grace. Or, better, a lot of grace. Or, best, every scrap of grace I have, because the beautiful thing is having nothing left to grasp for in the end. It means taking the blame, covering the shame, removing the stain (U2), because Someone I'm supposed to imitate does that for me with every single breath I live. "By His grace, we are the water made wine. We are the dust made flesh made dust made flesh again. We are the whores made brides and the thieves made saints and the killers made apostles. We are the dead made living." (N.D. Wilson)

It's so simple and so hard. The best things always are.


  1. Beautifully written! Thanks for posting :)

  2. A lovely and thoughtful response to what must be a difficult situation, Allie. May Christ's comfort and strength be yours.

    1. Thanks very much for that encouragement :)


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