The older I have become, the more precious grace has also become. Grace... you don't deserve her and neither do I.
No, I'm not talking about a young girl; I am talking about unmerited favor, mercy, forgiveness. She is a gift that ushers you into security, covers you in love, and usually leaves you on your face in humility and gratitude. Sometimes she is wrapped in fancy wrapping with an exquisite bow. More often than not, she comes wrapped in crumpled newspaper or with a simple bow tied around her.
I have seen her step into marriages that have gone beyond the point of utter desparation. I have seen her lift the heads of teenagers who have made a complete mess of their lives and clothed themselves in shame. I have seen her redeem, restore, and revive. How? Because she herself is not what brings the change, but the Giver of grace alone. And when you receive your package of grace...wrapped simply and small, or large and with great elegance, you can't receive her without brushing the nail-scarred hands of the One who gives her.
I am not a woman with a sordid past. I was the kind who didn't like to push the envelope, or disappoint. There have been no drugs, no alcohol abuse, no sex before marriage. But oh, there was, and there is, a need for grace. When I look into the eyes of one of my precious daughters and have to correct her for wrong behavior, I am very well aware that more often than not, she learned that behavior from me. Those words of judgement that would leave someone completely crushed....oh, they may not come out of my mouth, but I live with the very real knowledge that they are rattling around in my heart. There are times that fear shouts so loudly in my spirit that it barely allows the Spirit of God to even be heard as a whisper.
But my sin is what nailed Christ to the cross, the same as the sin of any rapist or murderer or child molester. My heart, my soul, my very life is in as much need of grace, as the terrorist who lives half-way across the world plotting the demise of thousands. I need my head lifted, my heart restored, my life redeemed. I have touched the life of the Giver of grace, and I will never be the same. I will forgive freely. I will pray with compassion. I will break my gift of grace...so sweetly given to me...into as many pieces as I possibly can, so that I can give her to those around me.
I need grace. Grace for the ordinary. And I don't care how she is gift-wrapped. As long as I can brush hands with her Giver.
