Faith

grace enough

Have you seen People of the Second Chance's NEVER BEYOND campaign? It is powerful.

Each week, they launch a new poster in their NEVER BEYOND series, representing a well-known historical, current, or fictional character who is believed to have harmed society. They stand as challenging and sometimes startling reminders that none of us are ever beyond a second chance.

I've been forced to grapple with my tendency to be stingy with grace and to cling tightly to unforgiveness.

Because if I'm being most honest, there are some people I feel I can't forgive.

And there are some I simply don't want to forgive.

But maybe that's just me...

Extending grace -- to others as well as myself -- doesn't come naturally to me.

But maybe that's just me too...

Although I have a feeling it's true for all of us, in one way or another...

Since the NEVER BEYOND campaign started, I've had a nagging thought at the back of my mind. It sits there, gnawing and scratching, and I just can't shake it. My thought?

September 11th.

Ugh.

My heart sinks even now, just writing out that date.

There are so many emotions, piling up, adding to the heavy weight in my heart...

I wish I was in New York with my family today...

I can't help but play out the events over and over again in my mind... So awful and so horrifying...

I remember our family friend who died that day, as one of the first FDNY firemen on the scene...

I keep thinking of my friend who lost her brother-in-law in the Pentagon...

And how helpless and paralyzing it felt to be halfway around the world in Africa when it all happened...

But underneath it all, my heart is wrestling. With grace. Forgiveness. Second chances.

Because, you see, I have this unarticulated internal hierarchy of sins...

A hierarchy which says Osama bin Laden and the terrorists behind the September 11th attacks are worse than me.

They are, right?

They have to be!

But then I remember all the ways I've sinned just today, just since I opened my eyes this morning. And I remember that, like Paul, I'm the chief of sinners.

I am.

I have more in common with the Osamas of the world than I'd like to admit, but the truth is undeniable: I need grace no less than they do, and I deserve it no more than they do.

There is no hierarchy of sin in God's mind. Sin is sin, plain and simple. And He paid the price for it, once and for all.

If there isn't enough grace for Osama, there isn't enough grace for me.

Because there are no two sides to grace.

It is never deserved, but always needed.

By all of us. No matter what.

That's what makes it so scandalous, so amazing.

So today, on one of the hardest of days, I am choosing to be generous with grace.

Because grace was generous with me.

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life isn't fair

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Life isn't fair. As much we might bemoan that fact, we really don't want it to be fair, do we?

We only want fair when it would be to our benefit.

When we would stand to gain. Or get even. Or get what we think we deserve.

Until we realize that what we deserve? Is nothing.

That's what's fair.

What's fair is that I get nothing.

Have nothing.

Be nothing.

Do nothing.

I. Deserve. Nothing.

So, having air to breathe? That's not fair.

Waking up in the morning? Not fair.

Being loved? Not fair.

The cross? Grace? Second, third, and eleventy-second chances? Definitely not fair.

Life isn't fair.

And for that I am beyond grateful.

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grace runs

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"Avoid the appearance of evil." We've all heard it said before.

And while it comes from the Bible, I think we may have warped its original intended meaning. More often than not, I've seen it used as a weapon of divisiveness and judgment and condemnation.

I grew up in a Christian home. I went to a Christian school. We went to church religiously. And the message was drilled into me from an early age: Avoid the appearance of evil.

I was taught to avoid places, activities, and people that might raise eyebrows.

If my presence or involvement could be misconstrued, I shouldn't be there. After all... what will people think? Or worse... what will people say?

It's why we shouldn't go to bars or clubs. It's the reason we shouldn't get tattoos. It's why we shouldn't hang out with the "rough crowd". Because all of those things might give an appearance of evil.

Someone might see it or hear about it, and jump to the wrong conclusion.

Because clearly it isn't very Christ-like to be caught in a potentially compromising situation. Right?

Oh.

Wait.

Jesus didn't avoid the appearance of evil. He ran straight into it.

Party at the thieving tax collector's house? He's there.

Intimate conversations with prostitutes? One of His favorite pastimes.

Hanging out with the scum of society? Nowhere else He'd rather be.

Enjoying some wine with His friends? Of course.

No, Jesus didn't avoid the appearance of evil. He sought it out. He pursued it. And as a result, He quite often appeared evil.

That's why the religious leaders of the day hated Him so much. Everything He did seemed to fly in the face of their long list of do's and don'ts.

They called Him a liar.

A drunk.

A glutton.

Blasphemous.

Demon-possessed.

They didn't understand His approach to life and ministry, because it was the complete opposite of theirs. He embraced what they shunned.

The scandalousness of grace is that it runs toward evil, not away from it.

Being like Christ is not about what I avoid. It's about what---and who---I embrace.

Because, after all, Christ embraced me.

And I am no different than the drunks, whores, adulterers, and all-around "rough crowd" I was taught to avoid. I am them. And they are me.

And Christ embraces us all.

Who am I to pick and choose?

Originally posted at Deeper Story. Read the comments there >

my now and my not yet

Lately, I just keep thinking about the phrase "the now and the not yet". For some reason, I thought it was in the Bible. But despite all my Googling and Bible-Gateway-ing, I came up empty-handed. Apparently it's not directly in Scripture.

Waddayaknow!

That's okay. It's still renting a room in my head for a reason...

The now and the not yet.

I've been in a long season of transition.

Change.

Limbo.

Still trying to figure out what's next and -- now more than ever -- learning to trust in the in-between.

Because I can't really trust God with and for whatever's next if I'm not trusting Him now---in my raw, unpolished, uncertain in-between.

I fool myself into believing I can trust Him with my tomorrow, but not my today. My eternity, but not my present. My not yet, but not my now.

But I can't.

Trusting the God who was and is and is to come, means trusting that He fully holds who I was and am and will be.

Past, present, and future are in His hands. And I can't trust Him with one and not another.

If I am His, I must be wholly His.

If I trust Him, I must wholly trust Him.

I need to learn to trust God in my now, in order to fully trust Him with my not yet.

Because trusting God means trusting His timing.

Even when I don't understand it. Maybe especially when I don't understand it.

So once again, I find myself praying...

Lord, I believe. Help me overcome my unbelief.

And the real, honest cry of my heart:

Lord, I trust. Help me overcome my distrust.