defining grace

It was a balmy, mid-October day in Cape Town, and life was clipping along at its usual, steady beat.

The proverbial foot had been lifted from the accelerator long enough to take a Sabbath rest, and we had just returned home from church.  I can’t remember if lunch had been devoured already, or was yet to be prepared, but my husband called me to the rust-colored, fake leather chairs and told me to sit down.

He handed me an envelope, and I paused, perplexed.

It wasn’t our anniversary.

It wasn’t my birthday.

I looked at his face for a clue, but it was a blank slate.

Slowly opening the mystery envelope, I pulled out an itinerary.

A round-trip plane ticket.

For me.

From Cape Town to Michigan.

Departing less than two weeks from that shocking moment.

My mouth fell slack as I read and re-read the sheet of paper in my shaking hand, trying desperately to process what seemed an impossibility.

The trip would allow me to be ‘home’ with my cancer-stricken mom for her 59th birthday.

I was speechless.

Though I had been remarkably blessed with a handful of trips home during my stay in Cape Town, none of those visits had ever fallen over her birthday.  As a result, it had been eight years since we had celebrated her birthday together in person.

But that year I would.

If somebody asked me to define grace, I would tell them that story.

 

 

The story of God’s radical favor, completely and utterly undeserved.  The story of His shocking generosity, sealed in a pure white envelope and held out to all who would open a palm to receive.  The story of His surprise, unexpected gift of redemption for no particular reason other than grace.  The story of airfare, paid in full and granted for free, bound for glory.  The story of an itinerary, printed on robes washed clean with the blood, booked to spend every birthday from now through eternity eating cake with the King.

I took that wrapped up present with its perfect, unobtrusive bow, and clutched it with grateful arms, and then I climbed into that too-good-to-be-true gift with a full and heavy heart.

I clung to words sent to me by a friend, after I had confessed that I was nervous about what I would find on the other side, without the glossy cushion of a computer screen to soften the blow.  I was scared to see how bad my mom had gotten, how much the cancer had gnawed away.

But my friend said simply, “Just enjoy it.”

So I did.

That birthday ended up being my mom’s last birthday here on earth.

And it was grace.

***

Now it’s your turn!  What defines grace for you?  What story from your life had grace painted all over its cover?

Link up or leave a comment below!

Joining today with the (in)courage community group, Grace Writers.

Photo Credit: epsos.de

 

 

strength

We lost a good friend this week. One of the best, actually.

Head-on collision.  Six dead.

Just like that, the candle was snuffed out.

And the shock, it’s taking a long time to wear off, and I keep thinking, hoping, praying that it will all be just a terrible nightmare, and I will soon wake up to find out that thank God, it was just a bad dream.

But it wasn’t, and he’s gone.

And I cried out to the Lord to “Take it back! Just take it back! Press rewind, reverse time, and change it. Please.”

And even though my faith is weathered, in the face of the storm, I still ask, “Why?”  Why did it have to happen, when he wasn’t yet 39, his wife and two kids still at home?

And it doesn’t seem fair.

And I flail in the cold waters that threaten to overwhelm, and I reach and stretch to grab hold of something sturdy — something that is true.

And then I’m reminded that the anchor doesn’t live in this sea. This choppy, unreliable sea where storms rage and the unexpected tragedy rises with the swell of the waves. This turbulent sea where pain is the current, and sorrow pulls with the changing tide.

The anchor doesn’t live here.

 

This hope that we have as “an anchor for the soul, firm and secure” — it’s bound to chains secured in heaven, never to be moved.

And sometimes we swim down, down into the depths searching for some source to give us strength to endure, strength that could be drudged up from the very bellows of the deep. But it’s not there, because it’s not here.

And our lungs, it feels like the air has expired, like time’s up, and we won’t make it back up to the surface in time. And the waves, they crash down with every phone call that brings the very news that no one should ever have to hear.

It can feel, at times, like we’re drowning.

Then we remember.

We remember to “fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”

He sat down.

He is the anchor.

He shall not be moved.

And He throws the life ring down into the raging sea, and He pulls us up.

Our lungs still burn and our eyes still sting that salty sting from the tears that won’t stop, but we grab hold. We grab hold of that which first grabbed hold of us.

For our strength isn’t found in the muck of the seabed — our strength is in the joy of the Lord, the same joy that was set before Him as He endured the cross, and our hope is in the anchor of His name.

This post was written on the prompt, “The Joy of the Lord is Our Strength,” over at the (in)courage Community Groups page.

Photo Credit: Paul Wilkinson, Flickr Creative Commons

the power of encouragement

It reflected from the sparkle in her smiling eyes.

It sprang out from the bounce in her step.

It swayed with the highlights in her shoulder-length bob.

It sang from the notes of her contagious laughter.

She drank it in with her extra large Diet Coke every morning, and it poured forth with her every word.

The power of encouragement.

She was our high school Varsity tennis coach,

and we loved her.

She made us who we were, as a team.

She motivated us, bonded us, unified us.

She knew the power of encouragement, and she used it well.

She was our coach,

and we loved her.

A ball of energy, her enthusiasm overflowed into each one of us.

She radiated vibrancy, and we couldn’t help but strive for excellence because of it.

Between games, she would call us to the fence for a pep talk.

 

Whether we were ahead or behind, her tone was full of gusto and vivacity.  With her perfectly manicured nails clasping the rungs of the fence, she would tell us what we needed to hear.

“That girl’s backhand is weak.  Hit it deep, back in the corner pocket.  Make them run.  Make them tired.  You got this.”

She put the fire in our hearts, the love of the game in the soles of our feet.

We played to win.

We played for the love.

We played for her.

She knew the power of encouragement, and she used it well.

Her memory has spurred me on to seek out that same power of encouragement.

To use it well.

To go beyond motivating a player in a tennis match, and strive to motivate and encourage sisters in the faith.  To build up those who are weary and aching from the constant onslaught of life’s baseline backhands, volleys at the net, and in-between overhead shots.

To remind my spiritual teammates that even when our opponent serves up an ace, we can still recover.  We may lose the game or even the set, but if we are in Christ, we have already won the match.  He has already claimed the victory.

To encourage others to see the grace we have been given.

The grace that leads to hope.

 

 

“… that their hearts may be encouraged, being knit together in love, to reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery, which is Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” (Colossians 2:2-3, ESV).

This post was written in conjunction with an (in)courage Community Group link-up, on the prompt, ‘The Power of Encouragement.’  To read more posts on the same theme, or to participate in the link-up, click here. 

Final photo credit: Alans1948, edited

come write with us

Today is the day!

The fabulous website and ministry, (in)courage, is kicking off another session of Community Groups.

Registration begins today! 

Click here for more info: http://www.incourage.me/community

The groups are online places for women to connect around a common theme.  This session, there are over 70 groups to choose from, ranging in topics from Military Wives, to Empty Nesters, to Homeschooling Moms.

Several groups are offered in each of these categories:

 

 

I’ve had the privilege to be part of two different writing groups in recent sessions, and it was so much fun to connect with other like-minded women around a common love of Jesus and writing.

This session, which will run from May 26th-July 4th, I’m thrilled to have the opportunity to co-lead a brand new writers group with Sara Meredith, of Stumbling with Grace.

We’ve named our group Grace Writers, and we’d love to have you join us!

 

 

Our goal for this session is to be a group for writers who desire to write about daily life while striving to incorporate the gift of grace we have been given through Christ.

This group will emphasize writing about the beauty of grace in the mundane, as a means of blessing and encouraging others and bringing glory to God.

If this sounds like something that might interest you, come and check it out!

http://www.incourage.me/grace-writers

Registration will be open until May 26th.

Hope to see you there!