Transitioning from SROM

It's been a crazy journey these past two and a half years.

Ryan and I started feeling the Lord whisper that it would soon be time to leave SROM several months ago. In my heart and mind, I thought that meant we'd be transitioning in about a year or so. As January progressed, the Lord made it clear that, no, next fall was not His timing. Nor was May (my next thought). I had all but settled on telling my director that I would be leaving at the end of March, but it was immediately clear that March was still delaying too long. So, last Friday I met with my director and let him know that I would be leaving SROM at the end of this month. My two weeks' notice.

On one level, I have a pretty good idea of what this next season is going to look like. I will be working part-time for a pregnancy care clinic in Laramie for March and April, and I will move to full-time there in May. 

On another level, I have an idea of what I'd like this next season to involve, but I have no idea what this new season will actually be like. 

The phrase that I've had jostling around in my over-crowded brain these past few weeks has been to look for the gold in the every-day. My appetite for reading has voraciously returned, and I've been re-discovering deep truths about God, people, and myself in the pages of Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. I've been listening to lyrics more intentionally, and been encouraged and surprised by how they resonate with me. I've been struck by the beauty of people. And I've been reminded of the tender grace of God to highlight these things in my life. It's not always easy for me to see the beauty of what's directly in front of me, but it's a discipline I want to regain.

So, bear with me, friends. This season will be a lot of working to see gold. It might be refined, it might be raw. I think it's pretty neat either way.

On Faithfulness

I was reading through a previous blog that I had started in college. This post was written while I was in a discipleship program in Upstate New York, and reflecting on the lessons that God was revealing to me through day-to-day circumstances. I found it to be both encouraging and convicting, so I'm reposting it here.

God's faithfulness is not measured in one life, it is measured in His remembrance of His covenants. He is faithful, but I think many of His mercies and gifts are mislabeled and assigned as indicators of His faithfulness. Much of my mentality stems from bad habits and a twisted perspective from which I am still being delivered. Grace is still a new concept for me, and I will probably be learning about it and consumed by curiosity with it for quite some time. But, because of the mentality I grew up with, I think it is necessary for me to distinguish between the two concepts of "faithfulness" and "mercy."

Mercy: compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone whom it is within one's power to punish or harm; an event to be grateful for, especially because its occurrence prevents something unpleasant or provides relief from suffering.

The small town I currently call my home depends largely on year-round tourism; the summers bring hikers and lakeside vacationers, the winters bring skiers and snowmobilers. Winters without snow mean decreased tourism and the whole town suffers to the extent that snow is brought up as a prayer request frequently during our church service. Is waking up to three inches of fresh powder a sign of God's faithfulness? As tempting as it is to immediately begin praising God for His faithfulness in bringing the much-needed snow, I think it's important to instead recognize an answer to prayer like this as a mercy.

Maybe I'm simply criticizing semantics, but I do think we run the risk of an entitled attitude if we think that God's faithfulness is revealed by whether or not He answers our personal prayer requests. God does care about the little 'non-essential' prayers of His people, but He is by no means bound to answer them according to our wishes in order to prove that He is faithful. When I thank God for His faithfulness in providing a community of Christ-centered people to live with, is my deeper attitude one of deserving the community? "God is doing a great job of staying on top of giving me the things I deserve. Thanks, God!" To be honest, I am sinful and prideful enough to believe that on some level I do deserve the day-to-day blessings of life, and that God is really just giving me the due rewards of living a 'Christian' life.

As I sit here writing, a friend came in and gave me a coffee he had bought for me while we are both on a work break. I hadn't asked for the coffee, but he wanted to bless me with a surprise. (I was blessed.) Is the coffee an indicator of his being a faithful friend? By no means! But say this friend and I had been working together for a few months, and say he took delight in surprising me with a cup of delicious coffee from the local coffee shop each day. I get used to the gift, and begin to expect it as a sort of unspoken agreement in our friendship. Is he an unfaithful friend if he on day decides not to get coffee? Am I justified in being put off because he didn't give me what I had come to expect? The coffee was a gift, and it is no less of a gift the hundredth time it is given than it is the first. All that changes is my perspective. Of course, this analogy will fall apart, but the scenario stops me short when I really ask myself if I would be as surprised and thankful for coffee in a few months as I am sipping it right now. I take far too much for granted. I am all too easily tempted into believing that we all deserve the sun each morning, and that God is just holding up His end of our 'unspoken agreement' in each sunrise or answered prayer.

I want to cultivate an attitude of thankfulness. I want to see each morning as a mercy, and not as something I somehow deserve. I'm still seeking understanding in recognizing God's faithfulness, and it will most likely pop up as another blog post in the future. Either that or Grace. I'm still pretty captivated by Grace.

On Bravery

"You make me brave. You make me brave. You call me out beyond the shore into the waves."

I was listening to this song on and off throughout the week at work, and it wasn't until yesterday that the thought struck me...what do I consider being brave? Listening to this song conjures images of radical acts of selflessness and courage in my mind - overseas missions, innercity missions, standing for the truth and facing real persecution. But what does being brave mean to me in my every day life?

Is it brave to love, support, and submit to my husband when we can't reach an agreement?

Is it brave to offer tea and a place to cry to a friend who has been hurt?

Is it brave to honor those in authority over me?

Is it brave to offer my best work each day at my 8-5 desk job?

Is it brave to love well?

Is it brave to act in obedience, even when I'm bitterly disappointed by giving something up?

Is it brave to raise a family and teach them to love Jesus and to obey His Word?

Is it brave to tithe faithfully?

Is it brave to persevere when I feel taken for granted?

Personally, I see great bravery in people in my life on a daily basis. Consistent, quiet, faithful bravery. I see bravery lived out without calling attention to itself. I see bravery lived out as people choose an intentional life in the face of a world that applauds the easy superficiality. I see my siblings choosing to be parents rather than buddies to their kids. I see my father choosing to work long hours with excellence and integrity. I see my mother choosing to speak hard truths with much love. I see my husband humbly acknowledging when he is wrong, and being willing to grow and change. I see my friends standing for truth in small things that seem easier to compromise. I see fierce love for the orphans, the widows, the outcast, the slandered, the wronged, the forgotten. I see great bravery all around me, most of it stemming from obedience to the One who calls us to live a life that is radically different from the world around us.

Life Lessons from Trudy: Hospitality

Ryan and I had the immense pleasure of hosting some good friends from Illinois as they passed through Laramie on their way to climb Devils Tower. We had six road-weary and stoke-heavy climbers in our apartment, and I couldn't have been happier about it. 

Chess, vinyl, and 007 on N64. Life is very good.

I love hosting people. I love having people over, making food, and planning adventures. Heck, I even love cleaning the apartment before people get there. (Seriously. Ask Ryan.) I love creating a space for people to rest in. It's a way in which I can care for people, and I love to love people. More and more, I find that I like to host people because I feel like Ryan and I have been given so much, and I want to give back.

I have always been tongue-in-cheek when I've said that one of my mother's primary spiritual gifts is hospitality. But now that I have my own space within which to create a home, I'm not so sure it's as flippant of a statement as I initially thought. All growing up I remember Trudy effortlessly, gracefully, and warmly inviting people into home. It was our home, but it was also home for anyone and everyone who needed a home. Sure, there was often a lot of work involved in preparing a place for people, but she found joy in that as simply another part of caring for people. It wasn't a chore for her to stay up late the night before Thanksgiving to make sure that there was enough food for all of the college students who couldn't travel home for the holiday; it was a lot of work, but it was never a chore. Trudy cared for people so much that it was a privilege for her to get to serve them, no matter the cost to herself. And she never, ever made others feel the weight of the work to prepare for their arrival. She never pressured people to enjoy themselves at the risk of offending her. She simply created a place for people, and invited them in to be themselves.

At it's heart, hospitality isn't about having the right pillows or towels or decor. It's not about having the house sparkling clean and neatly organized. It's not about showing off Suzie Homemaker skills. Hospitality is about caring for people. It's a privilege and an act of worship, because I truly believe that God is glorified when we love and care for others.

So, Trudy...thank you for setting that Godly example growing up. Thank you for the way you taught me to love people. Thank you for teaching me to share what I have, even when it doesn't feel like much. Thank you for teaching me how to delight in the details of serving people. Thank you for showing me that serving people is a privilege and a joy. Thank you for teaching me that hospitality is more about what people feel than what they see. Thank you for the way you love people as an act of worship and thanksgiving to God. I am thankful for you, and I am doing my best to do what you taught me!

On Joy

This draft has been sitting on my heart for a few weeks. It's vulnerable for me to write about hard things, and it's easy for me to worry over who this might be forwarded on to. But hard things are real, and real things can lead to deep lessons, and deep lessons are worth sharing. Right? So, here's my heart.

The past few weeks I've been thinking quite a bit about Joy. I'll admit that this season of life for me has been discouraging. I've been feeling tired, discouraged, accused, distrusted, burdened, and weary. I'm so weary. I think only recently I've realized how worn down I've become. But in the midst of this heaviness, I'm grateful for moments of refreshment and restoration. I've felt rebuilt and restored as I've gotten to meet up with old friends and new family. I've had sweet times on sunny porches that wind up with confessions of hurt that lead to healing tears. I've been able to laugh from my toes while sharing salsa and seltzer with dear women in my life here. I've glowed with the feeling of being so loved with kisses on the temple for no reason whatsoever. I've been reminded of the beauty of autumn colors: deep, rich, muted golds and greens and maroons. I've felt at peace in the wilderness, and I've been reminded of the ways God speaks to me there. I've been reminded of how much I love writing and reading words. I've snuggled up with old and new friends with s'mores around a fire. I've been working on engaging in spontaneous time with friends, and been surprised by how easy it can be to enjoy moments that aren't scheduled (this is big for me). I've become more and more grateful for my husband and the patient love he shows me each day. I milked a goat. (See? Spontaneity.) I've learned new games and been reminded of old favorites. I've taken small risks and have received sweet joys.


I've been so hungry for community, but hesitant to seek it for a lot of different reasons. There are large parts of my heart that are still sore from recent experiences, and the temptation is to let those parts harden. And, if I'm honest with myself, I can see that I've let those parts harden to some measure because I've given up on community for the past few months. I haven't been seeking community, and I've been slowly hardening the parts of my heart that have been hurt. Not in an antagonistic, angry, or bitter way, but definitely in a defensive measure to protect my heart. 

But even as I try to close myself off, God is rescuing me from myself and from these reclusive tendencies. He's been sending me reminders of joy and healing my perspective of community through...community. There is something so deeply necessary about friendship without an agenda. I am being reminded of how to participate in relationship without looking for or assuming an agenda in the other person, and I'm finding such healing and joy in the process. I've said before that we experience celebration to the degree that we experience grief, and I'm learning how applicable that core thought is across relationships as well: I can only heal to the degree that I am vulnerable, as hard as that vulnerability might feel after being hurt. The sweetness of Joy is so strengthening in heavy times, but I can only experience the joy of community to the degree that I'm willing to be vulnerable. 

I am still very much in the process of learning these lessons, and of being able to (or willing to) articulate them to others. But I think they're worth looking into.

Jehovah Jireh

"Jehovah Jireh

My Provider

His grace is sufficient for me"

 

Ryan and I were in San Fransisco last week for his brother's wedding (which was spectacular!) and then spent the next few days exploring. We were so grateful to get to spend time with his family in California, and we couldn't be happier for Eric and Jenn! 

(my best man)

After the wedding on Saturday, we spent the next Sunday and Monday hanging out with his family and exploring local vineyards, olive oil presses, and the bay area of San Fransisco. We got a little taste of California's redwoods on Monday morning, which got us even more excited for Yosemite! We made it to the park on Tuesday evening, and even squeezed in a little hike after setting up camp Tuesday night. (We probably could have hiked for longer if I hadn't stopped so often to gape at the gorgeous views and take pictures of everything.)

 

Wednesday we hiked up the Mist Trail to Vernal and Nevada falls. We stopped for lunch at the top of Nevada Falls, and reconsidered our options for the rest of the day. Though we had initially thought of just hiking to the waterfalls, we changed our itinerary and decided to continue on the Muir Trail up to Glacier Point. It was a long, hot, dry hike, but the views were absolutely spectacular. The hike up the Panorama Trail gave us an incredible perspective, and we could see Half Dome, all of Vernal and Nevada Falls, and Illilouette Falls. From Glacier Point, we could see nearly the entire valley. It was well worth the 16+ miles and staggering back to camp after dark!

 

We slept in on Thursday morning, packed up camp, did a few quick (paved) trails to Lower Yosemite Falls and Bridal Veil Falls, and said goodbye to Yosemite. We had been hoping to spend some time in the Tahoe National Forest, but realized that it would take us way further out of our way than we had initially planned for. So we stopped at Lake Tahoe for a few hours instead!

Representing SROM at Lake Tahoe!

We drove across most of Nevada on Friday, and stopped for dinner in the little town of Wendover, just west of the Salt Flats of Utah. When we got back on the one-way section of I-80 after dinner, the dreaded engine light came on and the engine gauge indicated that we were in danger of overheating. We pulled over, popped the hood, and let the engine cool down a bit. Ryan checked the coolant levels and we were completely dry...it had sprayed out and was leaking out the bottom of the car. Thankfully we had filled up our water bottles before we had left that morning, so we had plenty of water to use until we could make it to a gas station (54 miles away) for coolant. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't quite that easy. We started driving again, and almost immediately had to pull over again. The engine was still indicating dangerously high temperatures. As it turns out, the radiator hose had separated from the radiator, and all of our water had drained out. We had the Jeep towed to a local mechanic in Wendover and booked a hotel for the night. After the mechanic had taken a look at it, he showed Ryan and I that it wasn't as simple as replacing the radiator hose; the piece of the radiator that connects to the hose had completely melted off, and we would need to replace the entire radiator. He said he had found one at the local junkyard that seemed like it would work, and that he still would probably be able to get us on the road by closing time (3:00pm). If the one from the junkyard couldn't work, the mechanic said he could order one and have it in Wendover by Tuesday. (Tuesday!!)

(there's just something poetic about being broken down in the desert)

Long story short, the junkyard radiator was just different enough that it couldn't work. Ryan and I rented a car, drove to Salt Lake City, and searched for a radiator there. The parts store that had initially said they had the correct radiator had the same model as the junkyard: no good for us. We finally found a usable radiator in the little town of Toole, and made it back to Wendover at around 4:00pm. The mechanic (who I now believe is a chain-smoking angel on earth) stayed late in order to get the radiator in our Jeep and get us on the road!

As we were (finally) driving back to Wyoming, I had a lot of time to think about God and His provision. Jehovah Jireh, my Provider. God provided a radiator and a skilled (and generous) mechanic for us in the middle of Nowhere, Nevada! But that is not what makes God my Provider. 

God is my Provider because He has provided an atonement for my sin and a way back to restored relationship with Him. As the season of Lent draws to a close, I'm so grateful for this reminder! Yes, God has and continues to provide for Ryan and I. On a very tangible level, I get to continue to work at SROM because God provides financial support for me each and every month! But I think I can get too used to the idea that God provides what I think I need on a day-to-day basis, and I forget that the greatest demonstration of His provision is first and foremost that He provided a way for this sinner to return to Him. If we had been stuck in Wendover for a year, God would still be Provider. If all of my monthly financial support stopped today, God would still be Provider. If all of my perceived needs were never met again, God would still be Provider.

It's a hard concept for me to wrestle around in my mind. I confess, I think I've become comfortable. I've become accustomed to having enough to eat and a safe place to live; I'm accustomed to having my basic needs met. And while I absolutely recognize that it is all from God's hand that these things come, I'm tempted to base my understanding of His provision on whether or not my needs are being met. As Ryan and I were searching for a radiator, I confess being a little frustrated with God: "Why haven't You provided one yet? Are You going to provide in my timing, or am I going to have to figure this one out myself?" I began to wane in my trust of His provision because I was too narrowly focused on the here and now. Jehovah Jireh, my Provider. His grace is sufficient for me. His grace is sufficient for me.

His grace is sufficient for me. In His grace, He provided a perfect Savior for me. If I don't see that as enough, I am woefully underestimating my own sinfulness and His righteousness.

Lord, You are my Provider. You provided a way where there was none. You provided a perfect sacrifice through Jesus, and You provide grace for each day. Thank You. And thank You for little day-to-day reminders of Your total provision. You are so Good. You are so Good to me.

On Valentines

Remember back in elementary school when you would bring in enough Valentines treats for everyone in your class, and everyone got candy taped to red cards with your name scrawled in purple or pink crayon? I think we should bring those days back. Those were great times...especially because the most common candies to distribute were Reese's, and Reese's are delicious.

I did some brief research on St. Valentine (VERY brief...as in I looked him up on Wikipedia and crossed my fingers hoping that it hadn't been 'revised' past all truth) and found an interesting note. According to Wikipedia, "the name "Valentine" derived from valens (worthy, strong, powerful)." (Full disclosure: I did do some minor punctuation edits to that quote.)

"Worthy, strong, powerful." I like that a heck of a lot better than the images usually conjured by Valentine's Day...images of pinks and reds and fuzzy baby animals blushing and blowing kisses to one another. (Not that those things are inherently bad, they're just not my thing.) "Worthy," "strong," and "powerful" are all words that I want to characterize my life and my love.

How do we love worthily? What does it mean to have a strong, powerful love? What does it mean to love like Jesus did? (I don't know, which is why I'm asking.)

I have been finding that love looks differently each time; that each person, each situation, each season needs a different expression of love than the last. Love focuses on the need at present, even if that need isn't immediately apparent. Thus, there is no one answer to the question of how to love in a manner that is worthy, strong, and powerful; in order for love to be worthy, strong, and powerful, it must be focused on the Loved rather than on the Lover's desire to love the 'right' way.

I want to live a life of worthy, strong, powerful love. But the only true Source of that kind of love that I can find is in Jesus. The only way I can hope to live that kind of love is by first and foremost receiving that love anew each day (each moment of each day), and through loving Jesus by loving those He loves. 

So, in this season of life, as I fondly remember pre-printed, perforated cardstock, glossy Valentine's cards, please know that I am thinking of all of you. I have a deep love you all of you that is sourced by the One who is Love. He loves you so much more than a Valentine could ever communicate, because He loves you more truly, worthily, strongly, and powerfully than we can ever imagine. And we are invited on a journey to explore that love, and share that love with each person in front of us. 

May we live and love in a manner that truly reflects that kind of love.

Seasons of Transitions

I am a creature of habit.  I like routine, I like consistency, I'm comfortable with predictability.  Don't get me wrong, I like spontaneity!  But I want to know when it's going to happen and how much emotional energy it's going to occupy.  What can I say?  I'm my father's daughter.

I think sometimes I trick myself into thinking that the rest of the world stays mostly static, and it throws me off when I realize that it's not just the seasons that change with time.  People grow and change as much as (and more than!) the leaves on the trees or weather patterns.  If we didn't, I'd still have to stand on a chair in order to reach the kitchen table.

Moving from one season of life to the next always means saying goodbyes of some sort.  In growing up we have to say goodbye to the way of life that we once knew.  We have to say goodbye to familiar ways of relating to those around us, because saying goodbye to old relational dynamics allows those relationships to grow and change and mature.  If those dynamics didn't ever change, I would still see my parents only as authority figures and I would be missing out on the rich friendship I get to enjoy with them now!

When I moved to Wyoming, I had to say goodbye to all of the familiarity that I knew at home and embrace a lot of change in every sphere of life.  Even in relationships that were (and are) still present and thriving in my life, I had to embrace change in regards to what those relationships look like.  

Our relationship with God is as dynamic and changing as our relationships with one another.  He never changes, but He does bring us into deeper understandings of His love for us and His plans for us.  The ways I relate to God now are much deeper and richer now than they were in junior high, high school, or college.  I pray that my relationship with God would continue to deepen, and that 20 years from now I would look back on this time and see exponential growth!  How can I experience that growth and change if I cling more tightly to the familiar patterns than I do to Him?  My tendency is to trust the familiar, and be wary of the new.  But if I never trust new ways of knowing God, how can I step out in faith and see His hand move in my life?  (This is something I am very much still processing!)

In each new season of change, I've learned to trust that God will provide for me.  I think it's much easier for me to trust God's provision in tangible ways than it is to trust Him in regards to my relationship with Him.  (I recognize how backwards this is.)  Seeing His hand in the one should lead me to greater trust in the other...and I think that's what's happening in this season of life.

Lord, give me the grace to trust You and trust the ways that You are leading me closer to Your heart.  Guard me from a false perspective or understanding of You.  Guard me from trusting the familiar more than I trust You.  Thank You for Your patience with me!!

Oh to Grace how great a debtor

If, as the ancient hymn asserts, I'm daily a debtor to Grace, to whom or what am I indebted? 

Like most of my millennial peers, when I don't know the answer to something, I find myself typing "www.google.com" before I even have a clear understanding of how to phrase my search.  (What Would Google Say? perhaps becoming the new go-to for my generation...more thoughts on that later.)  Well, a Google search offers audio pronunciation, phonetic spelling, a fairly thorough etymology, translation options, and multiple definitions of the word "grace."  Nestled in all of that, the closest thing I could find to a description of Grace worthy of debt was "the free and unmerited favor of God, as manifested in the salvation of sinners and the bestowal of blessings."  For a quick definition from Google, I think that's actually pretty good!  But knowing the definition is much different from understanding the concept.

In his book What's so Amazing about Grace?, author Philip Yancey spends about 300 pages trying to recapture the deep meaning of Grace, something he describes as "the last best word."  In his first chapter, he quotes a counselor who beautifully describes why Grace has lost much of its meaning:

"Many years ago I was driven to the conclusion that the two major causes of most emotional problems among evangelical Christians are these:  the failure to understand, receive, and live out God's unconditional grace and forgiveness; and the failure to give out that unconditional love, forgiveness, and grace to other people... We read, we hear, we believe a good theology of grace.  But that's not the way we live.  The good news of the Gospel of grace has not penetrated the level of our emotions."  (italics mine)

I can have all of the tools of theology at my disposal in regards to understanding Grace, but unless I allow it to change my thinking and my habits I am no better off than a Google search, parroting back the definition without any meaning.  Perhaps it is hard to understand Grace because there is something in our nature that inherently does not want to accept Grace.  It offends our sense of "I can do it all by myself!"  We much prefer a system that asserts that we earn what we want and we keep what we earn.  In this 'bootstraps' mentality, we feel like we have a right to whatever it is we have worked for; Grace demands that we recognize that it is something we cannot and will not ever earn.  

In our relationship with God, we try to avoid the debt to Grace by working our way to Him.  As Yancey says,

"Even when we have committed a wrong, we want to earn our way back into the injured party's good graces.  We prefer to crawl on our knees, to wallow, to do penance, to kill a lamb - and religion often obliges us."

Legalism and religion often offer ways in which we can try to make deposits in our account with God.  Contrasted with faith and relationship (in which we have nothing but God's Grace to rest on), legalism feels secure because it tells us that we have something to offer, that we bring something to this transaction, that we can be in some sort of control.  Legalism lets us think we can avoid the debt to Grace, because who likes going into debt?  Relying on Grace, however, means that we give up anything we thought we could offer, and we approach God simply and purely on the basis of Christ's sacrifice.  

Not on our sacrifice, not on our terms, not in our own merit.  

"Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.  For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ..." (Philippians 3:8-9, ESV)

This is the daily debt we owe to Grace:  that we count anything we once thought we could offer as "rubbish" and come to God with nothing but a desperate prayer that He will see us as covered by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ.  And He does.  He extends Grace to us, and we receive "the free and unmerited favor of God, as manifested in the salvation of sinners and the bestowal of blessings."   If, as Yancey quotes, "we read, we hear, we believe a good theology of grace.  But that's not the way we live," we rob ourselves of experiencing that "free and unmerited favor" and we instead spend our lives striving to earn a place at God's table...something we can never hope to do.

On Grace

What follows is a blog I wrote in December of 2011, after my first semester of LIFT.  I'm reposting it here (with a few edits) because I feel that the message of Grace is important to hear and to be daily reminded of it's simplicity.  Guiding others to a place to receive this love and grace is what drives me.  I want to work with SROM because I feel that the wilderness provides a classroom rich with opportunities to extend and (often more importantly) receive grace.  As always, please feel free to email me for more information about what I'm doing!

It has taken me 22 years of growing up in the Church to accept Christ's love. I spent most of my life growing up trying to earn my way into a position to receive Grace. I grasped the concept that I am a sinner in need of a Savior early on, but to me it translated into a sort of tally mark system: my sin was wiped away upon "asking Jesus into my heart," but all the sin after that was tallied against me. The saving power of Christ's sacrifice was sufficient to cover my sins, but that really only counted for unintentional sins. If I wanted forgiveness for the tally of sins I willfully committed I had to prove by good intentions and irreproachable behavior that I was not only sorry for my sins but striving the best I could to do better in the present and the future. If I could prove beyond reasonable doubt that I was trying to do better, I might just earn my way into a position to be forgiven. But I couldn't ever really know if I was doing enough to prove myself, not until the Day of Judgment. Assurance of Salvation? What's that?

I hope that this is as obviously wrong to you as it is to me now. But growing up it seemed to me to be the only way to reconcile the free Grace of God with His Righteousness. To me, I was showing proper reverence and fear for the Almighty Judge of the Universe. I wanted to love God, but I wanted to make sure that I was doing it right, not cheapening Grace, and properly understanding the faith I chose to follow. In so doing I undervalued Grace, had no concept of the core of what it means to be after God's own heart, and did everything wrong. Thank God that He didn't leave this sinner alone in a prison of my own misunderstanding.

There is no tally system. There is no 'enough.' There is no proving. Grace cannot be earned. The more I tried to earn it, the more I proved that I had no concept of it. There is no gift-exchange for Grace, for there is nothing that I can offer in return of equal or greater value. There is not even me, simple-minded, disobedient, self-righteous ragamuffin that I am, because everything I am and will ever be comes from God. There is Grace, and there is the God of the Universe reconciling us to Himself.

I was reading through old emails (that's a normal thing to do, right?) and came across something I sent to a friend over the summer. Upon reflection, I think this is the beginning of my waking up to Grace. It's akin to the hazy moments when you try to open your eyes in a dream and see the bedroom around you. You're not quite awake, but the reality around you begins to shape your dreams.

"I am just now learning to live in freedom toward who I am. I am full of inconsistencies and skewed perspectives and weird quirks that embarrass me and fears that drive me and baggage that weighs me down. But I want to love God. I am not overwhelmed by my humanness because I believe that God is bigger than my humanness, and big enough in fact to not only tolerate my humanness but USE my messy quirky fearful angsty cussing humanness. God doesn't call us into an awareness of Himself to love Him so that He can tolerate us in our messiness for the rest of our earthly lives, waiting it out for us to die so He can rescue our spirits up to eternal delight. He calls us into an awareness of Himself because He loves us. As we are, He loves us. He doesn't love us for who we will eventually be, He loves us for who we are. Now. Before. Always."

There is no tally system. Grace is not an 'elementary doctrine' of Christianity, it is what all other theology, orthodoxy, orthopraxy, doctrine, and dogma points to and centers on. The Gospel is not something that we as Christians ever grow out of, it is something we continually grow toward. We fool ourselves if we think that our theological studies can ever bring us to a greater revelation than Grace.

Hallelujah, my salvation is not conditional on my worthiness. Hallelujah, my salvation is not the sum total of God's plan for me. Hallelujah, His Grace is enough.