There are days I down right, absolutely detest grace.
Before you throw me to the wolves, hear me out…
Grace is a foundational platform of our salvation through the Son of God, Jesus Christ.
-Without grace we wouldn’t be forgiven of the sins that force us to fall short of perfection.
– Without grace our eternal after-life would be void of Jesus… Literal and physical Hell combined.
Grace is a precious thing. I like that kind of grace. It’s that type of grace which allows me to think back on a scenario, see a brutal mistake I made and think, “Thank you, Jesus, that your position as God isn’t diminished because I messed up. Thanks for using me despite my <insert shortcoming here>.
But what about the grace every fiber in my being says I shouldn’t need?
The grace I have to look for in another human being when:
– I need help walking because my legs decided to take a day off.
– I need someone to extend me grace in seeing my worth despite the fact I’m really quite convincingly helpless in more areas than one.
… I struggle with hating that grace. Why? Because I get caught up in believing my worth lies in the balance of whether the other person is obedient in extending it or not.
Worthless. Invaluable. Hated. Pitied. Scathed. I struggle with hating grace when the lack of its presence in a person leaves me feeling those things.
I want my independence and I want my worth to be so strong my presence screams those characteristics. Often times, however, it doesn’t scream anything except, “Do you still think I’m lovable despite my neediness?”
Grace comes at a price. First and foremost, the price was (once for all eternity) the Son of God.
But now, post-payment, (post-resurrection of the Son, hallelujah!) receiving grace comes at the price of sacrificing my pride and my independence. As a Christian, I’m called to be with other believers.
That means I need them and they need me. The only way we thrive as a unit is through grace… Even when it hurts more to receive it than to give it.