Footsteps of Grace

I remember when I learned my first real lesson about grace.  I guess I should say that it was the first time I really understood the concept of grace.

I heard my mom’s footsteps outside of my bedroom door.  I knew it was time to pay the piper.  I took something that wasn’t mine.

I had been holed up in my bedroom for hours because I knew that I had to face my mom and give account for my actions.  She was going to kill me (or so I thought).

graceQuivering lower bottom lip.  Embarrassment on my face.  Tears forming in my eight year old eyes.  I opened my bedroom door.

It was judgment time….

While my human nature was screaming “I DIDN’T DO IT”, there was a still small voice.  It softly whispered “you know you are guilty… accept the penalty. ”

My mom motioned me to come and sit on her lap. She then wrapped her arms around me and simply, softly whispered that she knew what I did.  She explained that she knows what she is saying when she asks me to not do certain things.  She told me of the punishment I deserved.   She then told me that she loved me.  She told me that it was okay and that I had to make things right with the person that I wronged.

She wasn’t going to kill me.

A lesson taught and a lesson learned.

Grace.

Suddenly I was back in bed, my heart and spirit were still intact. 

Even now, some 45 years later,  there aren’t many days that go by that I don’t remember that event in my life.  It has convinced me that a parent’s love is a lot like that of God.

How many times have I done what I knew I should not have done?  How many times has it gone as predicted? How often have I experienced God’s grace in those circumstances? God has every reason to hold my every foolish decision and move over me. My list of wrongs is much longer than the list of things I get right. 

Every day I experience and appreciate  grace beyond my understanding.

Grace.

There’s only grace
There’s only love
There’s only mercy
And believe me,
it’s enough…

-Matthew West

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