What does it mean to give grace?
A little while ago, I realized how weary I had become of trying to live by the law. It is an easy quagmire for Christians to get stuck in, to sucked in by. After all, we are supposed to be people who live by the truth, to live in righteousness, to hold the line of purity.
But, I realized, there are simply too many instances in the gospels when Jesus extended grace in love, rather than righteous judgement.
For now, anyway, I am going to try out erring on the side of love rather than judgment.
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From the blog
Guilt
Not all the guilt we feel is ours. Often enough, we feel guilt because it gives us some sense of control over something that seems terrible to us. Then, if can only atone in some way….
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Fragile
Families handled grief in all kinds of ways, but fragile irritability was often the first stop. That is, after numb shock.
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Shame
Learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed; defend the orphan, plead for the widow. Isaiah 1:17 (NRSV)
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Homeless
She noticed the sticky note on the mirror, as she always did, and though the words were not from her religion, it was still comforting to know the woman who had opened her home to her was god-fearing.
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Mourn
You’re not gone you’re still here
With me all the time
You’re still here
When I close my eyes
I still see you I still feel you
Dianne Warren, Still Here
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Needy
It seemed as though it took all her strength to knock loud enough to get through the pounding music. God. Maybe it was a prayer.
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Jealousy
She could still feel the jealousy, curling around her body, a restless snake, making her nauseous, prickling down her spine. Stifling a sob set another tight wave of pain even through her aching body.
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Hurt
He had been so eager to show off that afternoon, taking his bike over to his lover’s place. He could feel his face grow hot with the shame of it, his chest begin to ache.
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Distress
She ducked her head down. He did not need her crying, he needed her hope, her can-do, he needed the mamá who had cheered at all his home games, who had thrown him a giant party when he graduated, who made over every new job.
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Pressure
There was a chorus of “dad! dad!” from inside, then the snick of the lock and the door yanked open. They threw themselves on him, knocking his phone down as he patted their heads,
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Stumble
But she couldn’t sleep. The bed spun. She felt woozy and nauseous. Too tired. Too wired. And all she could think about was the line of pain going up her neck and driving its spike into her head.
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Ache
“I’ve had a hard time with some of my fellow Christians,” he said softly. “It’s hard not to build up a wall. But I’ve met some really great believers, too. They don’t all agree with me about stuff. But they love me.”
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Changes
“Aren’t you, like, a Christian?” It was making no sense. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, as though that might help. “I mean, aren’t there rules, or something?”
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Lonely
He flipped through all the chats he had already seen, familiar dark dread narrowing his windpipe, stinging his eyes, aching through his back and neck. Why was he such a failure at connecting with people?
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Stressed
He could feel his heart pounding like a jackhammer, his face was hot, sweat breaking out along his hairline.
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Overwhelmed
She nodded, but clenched her teeth. The room seemed to grow dim, as though someone had lowered the lights and muffled the sounds. She needed to go—somewhere else, anywhere else—so she got back up and walked out the door.
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Grief
She would just lie here today, she thought. Who cares? Not the one who counted. He was lying brain-dead in the hospital across town.
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Numb
She felt neither alarm nor even wonder. It simply was. Her body was there, doing what little it could for the inconsolable. And she was here, a dispassionate observer.
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About Me
My passion for the Bible began when I was eight or nine years old, somewhere in there, when on occasion my dad would take me to synagogue, where he sang. I remember watching the men in synagogue pray the words of scripture, murmuring and weeping, lovingly touching and kissing the Torah, and I wished I could read what they were reading.
Imagine, then, my wonder when I was given a Bible of my own! Read more
Grace and Peace, Joanne 