Mary, full of grace

How pitiful must the mother of Jesus have looked? A teenage mother, suspected of adultery, with a crazy story about an angel and a pregnancy from the Holy Spirit. Even her fiancé didn't believe her.

Did she rest for three months with her cousin Elizabeth because she needed time with someone who believes her? Another mother with a gift from God baby who leaped and shouted from the womb: HERE HE IS!

Her song is beautiful:

My soul praises the Lord; 
my heart rejoices in God my Savior, 
because he has shown his concern for his humble servant girl. 
From now on, all people will say that I am blessed, 
because the Powerful One has done great things for me. 
His name is holy.
God will show his mercy forever and ever to those who worship and serve him.
He has done mighty deeds by his power.
He has scattered the people who are proud and think great things about themselves.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones and raised up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away with nothing.
He has helped his servant, the people of Israel, remembering to show them mercy as he promised to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his children forever. Luke 1:46-55 NCV

Would I pen such a verse asked to disgrace myself for the sake of God's glory? Would I count myself blessed to be labelled with a scarlet A? If everyone thought my husband was a weak pushover for marrying me and raising my bastard son? If no one believed the call on my life? Would I rejoice in God my savior?

By God's grace, she did.

And she carried his greatest grace in her arms and kissed his soft cheeks and made a bed for him where she could find one.

And all people call her blessed in verse and song, as we see, by his grace, what her disgrace gave to us all!

Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright,
Round yon virgin, mother and child,
Holy infant so tender and mild,
Sleep In heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace.

Hypo- and Hyper-

I learned in Endocrinology that hypo- and hyper-, low and high, were opposites that could not exist together. You cannot have both an over-functioning and under-functioning thyroid, both too much and not enough calcium. One or the other.

But that's not the law I see at work in myself. Instead, I see hypocrisy coupled with a hyper-critical nature, feeding each other. Staring at and pronouncing judgment on specks in others' eyes. Blinded to logs in my own eye. Matthew 7:1-5

When I finally catch sight of the log in my peripheral vision {who wants to look at sin head on}, I'm revolted and ashamed. Head hung in hands before the throne. Only half believing God's grace is big enough for the darkness inside.

Recently, I heard a man say that he felt like he believed in God, but God didn't believe in him.

That idea sat with me in a troublesome way. The lie behind it so insidious and pervasive that it took a while to dig it out.

God is the only one who believes in us. He is the only one who sees who we actually are, I mean deep into the shadows we don't even travel to.


We never disappoint God because we never surprise him with our sin. Not that our sin is trivial to him; it's just not disappointing. Disappointment finds it's root in unmet expectations. God expects us to be exactly who we are. And He extends grace to exactly us.

Grace to exactly me, hyper-critical hypocrite that I am.

Big one says of her sin that it breaks God's heart. But immediately follows up with, Jesus fixed God's heart on the cross. Jesus fixes my heart. Jesus fixes Mommy's heart. Jesus fixes Daddy's heart. Jesus fixes Sissy's heart.

Only Jesus can tackle hyper-, hypo- conditions. Only he washes so completely that even the sin we can't look at is covered over, leaving nothing but Christ-righteousness.

Can I get a "Hallelujah!"

Sufficient Grace

I run through lyrics in my head, where the "oh-oh's" come in, that unexpected C natural. Worship is all business this week. How many times do I sing the words before I hear them?

He who has ears... Listen. To the words pouring from your own mouth. Listen.

What are you gonna do when the doctor comes into the waiting room, puts his hand on you, and says, he's sorry. What are you gonna say to God when all you do is pray to God to take the thorn away, and all you hear him say is, "My grace is sufficient."

And I hear, My grace is sufficient for her.

I can accept sufficient for me. My hurts covered. And keep pressing on. I can accept grace for my trials.

What I didn't want and needed to hear, My grace is sufficient for her. Grandmother, all her pain and exhaustion and drowning surrounded by air. How many times have I raised my voice to the heavens and pleaded with God to take her home, give her a new body? How many times does she pray for the same thing?

And all I hear, My grace is sufficient for her.

What are you gonna do when your neighbor walks into your living room, and you tell them he could deliver them, like he delivered you? What are you gonna say to God when all you do is pray to God for them to know his name, and all you hear him say is, "My grace is sufficient."

I grow weary of the continuous rejection of God by people I love. But God doesn't. He offers over and over, no matter the rejection or hate or spit or disdain.

In my weariness, all I hear, My grace is sufficient.

What are you gonna say to God when everything you prayed to God came your way, but you forgot to thank him, and all you hear him say is, "My grace."

And my heart breaks and mends at how wretched I am and how great he is.

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, and my power is made perfect in weakness."

2 Corinthians 12:9

An Encouraging Word

God still feels removed most days. Not Jesus or the Holy Spirit - they feel close. But my thoughts of God the Father tend to future tense: I will see Him in heaven. Or as the distant Calvinist director of all humankind. God in glory and splendor, pillar of fire, blazing throne room. Holy. Holy. Holy. Father doesn't feel like an accurate moniker.

Then that brilliant light breaks through. Reveals Him on the earth. Him, big God, universe-in-palm creator God right here, intimate and invested.

And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. 1 Peter 5:10

God himself. The one I assume has better things to do. The one I don't bother with my sufferings. God himself.


Restore. Confirm. Strengthen. Establish. Reminds me of the girls: trip and crash, goose eggs and scraped skin, looking to mommy to kiss it and make it all better. Teary eyes pressed into my shoulder.  Nothing removed and distant about that. All access. All present.

All through Christ.

Elijah and Jesus {!} weren't tended to by God. The angels ministered to their needs 1 Kings 19:48, Matthew 4:11. God's open arms come through grace and the cross. A gift when the veil is torn.

See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; 1 John 3:1

Children who suffer and fall and cry, only to meet the arms of the Father himself.

My words fall short. Overwhelmed by gifts of grace.

with Love Incorruptible

Grace be with all who love our Lord Jesus Christ with love incorruptible. Ephesians 6:24

Love incorruptible.

Is anything in me incorruptible? Can I even conceive of such a thing? A love that my sin cannot touch.

Aphtharsia {grk}: literally, no corruption 

              or

Unable to experience deterioration, lacking the very capacity to decay or constitutionally break down, incorruptibility, hence: immortality Strong's Greek Concordance

{Aphtharsia is used elsewhere to describe God's glory Romans 1:23; I Timothy 1:17 and the inheritance of the saints I Corinthians 9:25, 15:52; I Peter 1:4, 23, 3:4 }

Lots of bold letters, written shouting, because my head is spinning at the notion of love for Christ that is unable to decay. I can accept God's incorruptible glory and an immortal heavenly reward, because I have nothing to do with them - they exist regardless.

And that's what makes my heart race about this verse. If my love for God is incorruptible, then it cannot depend on me. My sinful heart is capable of corrupting anything. This love that lacks the capacity to diminish must come from the One who cannot decay, cannot corrupt, cannot deteriorate in any way.

Which means... I can trust my love for Christ. If my love depends on my fickle heart, then I should live in mortal fear that I will wake one morning with love extinguished. But, if my love for Christ is grace, part of the new creation package, a gift from God, it is sure. I wake every day sure that God's seal on me assures that my love for Him is incorruptible.


And I shout with Paul:

Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen. Ephesians 3:20-21

 Make your own seal - A creative reminder of our assurance in Christ

A Daffodil in the Lawn

One daffodil sprouts through the lawn. I didn't plant it there. It must have put down roots after a squirrel dug it up, took one bite and cast it aside. A very plucky flower. My favorite because it's sharing beauty from the wrong spot.

I'm all wrong to see beauty right now. My heart is heavy. My Bible barely read. My prayers hastily thrown skyward over a chaotic weekend.

God's grace is beauty, shining in unlikely moments. He reminds me that He loves me because I am His, not because I act like His. He answers prayers because I am His, not because I ask correctly.

I bow on my knees before the Father... that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith - that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height  and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Ephesians 3:15-19

Rooted and ground in love. God's love founds knowledge and filling. His power and peace pour from his love that surpasses knowledge. 

And here is his astonishing answer. Verse 17 {John 7}: "If anyone's will is to do God's will, he will know whether the teaching is from God or whether I am speaking on my own authority." I remember sometime in the fall of 1967 at Wheaton College being shocked when someone brought this to my attention—that right willing is the foundation of right knowing. It seemed at the time to make life more complicated, more mysterious, and certainly less under my control. Less rationalistic. The intellectual task of knowing truth suddenly became a moral task, and a spiritual task. ~~John Piper, "Willing God's Will As A Way of Knowing Christ's Word"

My state of learning and study doesn't matter. Unable to snatch even a few quiet moments to open the Word, yet I am immersed in the truth of God's grace more tangibly than any reading can provide. God has made my heart right willing that my foundation in hardship is right knowing. Grace sprouting in my life from the wrong spot.

Offering Dirty Hands

Hold-a my hand, Mommy.

We sit at the lunch table. Her chubby fingers reach out. All I see is unnaturally orange mac and cheese. A mess ready to spread from one person to another.

My detrimentally practical side spoke first. The side of me that would ask Jesus to stop teaching long enough to eat my gluten free vegetarian meal. No sweetie. Look at your hands. Not until we clean up.

A holy voice questioned Is that really most important to you? Avoiding a cheese mess at the price of holding her hand? What does that teach her about her Father? Clean up first. Scrub off that sin. Then I'll love. Then you can enter my presence.

Seeking to undo damage I'm so sorry Baby. Please, can we hold hands right now?

Her sticky fingers wrap around mine, squeezing cheese and pasta glue into cracked skin. She looks in my eyes. I like you, Mommy. So quiet I might have missed it.

I like you, too Baby.  

We hold hands, and I sing silently:

Come ye weary, heavy laden, lost and ruined by the fall.

If you tarry til you're better, you will never come at all.