When Grace is in Our Midst

I have a lot of jumbled thoughts currently, all of which center around grace. I've been dwelling on it lately, grace and all that the concept encompasses, as it has continuously been making appearances all around me. Around every corner, the world seems to be having a difficult week, and when brokenness runs rampant grace is the only solution. I want to dish out some grace words today, because perhaps somebody needs to read them, needs to hear them, whether as a reminder or for the first time.

As a dear friend pours out her present grievances, brow furrowed and soul dismayed.

As a young woman confesses her heart, voice desperate and eyes shameful.

As I stumble my own way through life, flesh afire and wildly running rampant.

There is grace.

I've heard so many broken stories this week, broken words from the messy lives of broken people that make up a fallen world.

A world moaning and groaning with pains like childbirth.

A world in which death stings and sin is heavy.

A world in which shame is an anchor crushing people beneath it's weight.

And God looks at such a world through a lens of compassion.

The thing is, we all live in conviction. Our brokenness is obvious and it tears us apart. I'm not sure we as the Church always handle it in the best way. Too often do we speak shame over one another. Too often do we look down our noses at each other. Too often do we create atmospheres of judgment, and all this does is turn weary people away from community, away from the pathway of redemption. We all have shame at some point or another, or we all experience brokenness of some sort whether by our own hand or at the mercy of another. No matter how put together our lives may seem, no matter what we accomplish, no matter what pink bubble moments may float our way we all hear the moaning of this world. We all have conviction, but we don't need anyone to point it out. The weight of sin is heavy enough on its own.

So I wish we'd stop speaking fear into each other and start speaking freedom.

Because this world is groaning.

And we groan right along with it, because not only is our environment in a sad state but we ourselves are in a sad state. We are children of wrath.

Within ourselves, somewhere in the deep places of our beings, we know that dark and unsettling things lie.

And this is heavy, this is weighty, the awareness of our sin.

As I'm typing these words, I'm thinking on that. I'm allowing the thought of it all to settle. Sin is ever so weighty, and damn. This world's brokenness is overwhelming to say the least.

So a lot of people find themselves in this place in which brokenness is realized and sin is felt and they allow the weight of it all to pronounce the verdict: guilty. This brokenness is just too much to handle, these people might say, and this sin of mine is impossible to overcome.

The anchor of shame begins to pull, down, down, down, further and further into an abyss of hell in which mourning is loud and there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. It is a dark place, a depressing place in which lies are whispered.

And the weary souls believe them.

Lies such as:

'Your sin defines you'.

'They'd judge you if they knew'.

'Your burden is too heavy to overcome'.

And the sinful cycle continues, because darkness is overwhelming in the worst way.

Wherever you are, whoever you are I wish I could take your face into my hands, look you straight in the eye and tell you: there is a better way.

There is a way to move forward, a way to walk away from the dark abyss and toward a path of glorious light in which healing is brought and restoration is experienced and oh what sweet freedom is awaiting you there on such a path.

It's like this: the wages of sin is death, but the weight of sin is humility.

Let that sink in. The weight of sin, the weight of brokenness, is not death. The weight of sin is humility, because it is the heaviness of conviction that pushes us down from our high and mighty places. The weight of sin forces us to our knees, pushes us off any high horses we may have previously been riding astride.

You see, we like our high and lofty places. Though we know of our brokenness, of ourselves and of the world around us, we like to cover it all up with facades. We engage the centuries-old game of pretend and refuse to come right out and say it: the weight is heavy.

Crushing, in fact.

Which is all good and fine, until suddenly the anchor becomes incredibly cumbersome. The weightiness becomes too much.

The truth is, we can't bear our weights alone, and we are unable to transform ourselves from darkness to light.

And we aren't meant to.

We are meant to engage God.

So in this we see that the brokenness of the world and the weight of our sin is indeed hopeful. The weight of sin breaks us, breaks down our pride and selfishness and know-it-all attitudes and shows us we need God.

Without the weight of sin, humility would never come. Without humility, not a single one of us would get down on our knees.

We're all too stubborn for that.

We indeed deserve our wages, we indeed should receive death. God, in all of His love, offers us only grace.

There is a calling, a sweet invitation to walk in freedom. You see, there is a story more captivating than any fairytale, myth, or legend, better than any fantasy novel or sci-fi film. It is a story of grace in which a man lived out godliness, in which a man of divine nature gave His life for a world with a twisted nature.

In which a man who we call the Christ looked at a broken world through a lens of compassion.

Died on a cross.

Rose in three days.

And turned a messed up world on it's head.

Because all of a sudden this man proclaimed freedom. This man declared grace in a way in which the world had never known. A new dawn began. A new era reigned.

One in which we are still living.

God has always set His people on a pathway of freedom, always offered grace and goodness and all things light. This era of Jesus is our current path of light, our invitation out of our past and present darkness. Jesus began a unique way of redemption, and it is a movement that we are absolutely made to play a part in.

We are made to walk in freedom. We are made to dance with God as He moves to redeem and restore humanity. We are made for transformation, to shift from children of wrath to children of light.

We are made to be sanctified-to be made more and more like Jesus with each passing day.

We are made to answer God's call. He's asking us to receive grace, asking us to move forward from our current state and move toward Him.

And yes, at first it may be scary.

I remember when I first encountered the Gospel, when I truly let the weight of it all sink in. I was sixteen, so just five years ago. I'd grown up hearing the Gospel story, but I did not personally engage with the Cross until my high school years. The weight of my sin was heavy. Oh was it heavy.

But the impact of grace was stronger.

Like an inexperienced toddler, I began to clumsily take baby steps toward God. Over time, I've stumbled and fallen. The thing about God though is that He is always extending a hand, forever picking me back up. Forever catching me in a net of grace.

And yes, I continue to stumble. I've fallen and scraped my chin a few times, offset my balance here and there. What I've found, however, is that as time goes on my falls become fewer. The slip-ups lessen.

Because various happenings are taking place: I'm learning how to navigate the world, I'm learning to take my weightiness to God, and I'm learning to trust Him.

And yes, grace is incomprehensible. Each day is unknown, an adventure of hope waiting to happen. God is big, vast and mysterious and amazing and awesome. In this bigness though is comfort, for even in the vastness of God intimacy can be found.

'The beauty of this bigness is that it is small— down to each life. God’s vision is a call to move forward into the future in the full operation of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness , and self-control, with a fearlessness that could only come from him'.- Sarah Bessey

We are broken. We are messy sinners. We are flesh-filled, we are all prone to wander from the God path of life, and we all feel the weight of it.

We all ache for redemption.

What's ironic is that it exists, though we often forget, ignore, or refuse it. Redemption is what awaits. Friend, here I grasp your hand and say: grace is calling! For you, for me, for us all. It is calling and how sweet the sound. We need to preach this to one another, need to encourage one another with these words. Over the past month I've been aware of brokenness and even more aware of grace. I've had friends cry in my arms. I've heard stories of friends and family lost. I've heard confessions. I've seen brokenness. I've listened as men and women have spoken it out, words full of this harsh world's realities but also words of hope. I've read various blog posts of trials and tribulations, and I've read news articles about cities falling apart, children being hurt, and people being enslaved. I've had a speaker come to one of my classes and describe one of the most horrific stories I've ever heard. I've been aware of my own mess-ups and I've prayed with people seeking freedom from their own.

And it's like this: grace is in our midst.

Wherever you find yourself, I hope you can be there. I hope you can engage grace and be right there beside it. I hope you don't stay down today, because you aren't made to remain in the abyss. You aren't made to falter under the weight of sin. You're made to give it to God.

Grace empowers us. Empowers us to get back up after we stumble and fall. Empowers us to go out from that place and try again. Empowers us to do it better next time, empowers us to flesh out Jesus with this one, sweet life.

And I guess you could ignore it. You could stay down. But why would you?

Yes we are broken but beautifully so.

For only when we are broken can we be rebuilt.

"The answer must be, I think, that beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there."
-Annie Dillard