Grace… There’s an App for That

A few years ago I got one of those pink-sherbet colored phones. What a loss when I couldn’t catch her before she took a nosedive into the pool during Eli’s swimming lesson. A few months later, my replacement phone literally jumped from my back pocket and into the toilet bowl (pre-anything, I promise). Then after purchasing  a cool new iPhone, I placed it in the cup holder where a bottle of water had spilled overnight. It wasn’t until I pulled into the office and picked up my phone that I realized it was dripping…and dead.

Late Sunday we were driving home to Nashville from Georgia. Instead of putting my iPhone on my lap, I sleepily put it into a half empty cup of coffee that I insisted on drinking without a lid. My ninety-two cent cup of coffee will end up costing me dearly.

Me + All the stupid stuff I’ve done over the years = A lot of wasted money and time

I’ve locked my keys in the car while pumping gas—misplaced my keys at the mall, called a locksmith to open the car and make a new key, then found the keys under a pile of clothes in the junior department after he finished—I bounced a check or two—lost my debit card (forty times at least)—lost my check book—lost my wallet—lost my keys again—lost my phone again—lost my license—bought a greeting card business because I heard about it on WLIX—dropped my phone down the air conditioning duct—drove my husband’s car for the first time and ran into the curb at Walgreens causing a flat tire—backed into my husband’s truck—refused to read a map or ask for directions only to go three hours out of the way—purchased a dog with a credit card…

Must I prolong the agony?

My first comment to Regi on Monday was, “Just buy me a cheap flip phone with no capabilities to do anything.” Actually I deserve nothing less than a beeper at this point.

Why do we expect punishment when we mess up—because we don’t deserve any better? Because we’re so pitiful and grace applies to everyone except us? Because in everything from petty phone disasters to life altering decisions we should have used more wisdom or showed some restraint?

Maybe it’s because we have lost sight of the enormity of grace.

“But God gives us even more grace…” James 4:6 (NCV)

It doesn’t say that God gives us a measured bit of grace. Instead, James very purposefully uses the present tense of “gives” which can only mean one thing. That He will never tire of dishing out grace every time I need it. No matter how many times I ask!

“After you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, the one who called you into his eternal glory in Christ Jesus, will himself restore, empower, strengthen, and establish you…” 1 Peter 5:10 (CEB)

And after I’ve gone a round or two against myself, it finally registers what Peter meant when he penned those words (and with a little help from www.Dictionary.com):

  • He establishes me: He causes me to be accepted or recognized
  • He restores me: He gives back; make return or restitution of (anything taken away or lost)
  • He empowers me: He gives power or authority to me; He authorizes, especially by official or legal means
  • He strengthens me: He makes me become stronger
I know, I know. This is a silly little story. But if it caused you to rethink the wonder of grace then I’m glad my phone died. I simply think we must grasp the truth that grace isn’t just about accepting His forgiveness, but is allowing God to do a work in us in spite of our big mess-ups.

 

“So now what,” you may ask. Well, of course I’m going to get another phone—and of course there’s the likely possibility that something will eventually happen to it. But in the purest form of grace, my husband will make a trip to the Apple store, ask what color I’d like this time, (and possibly insist on a waterproof case), then pay for it. All without saying, “This is your last chance,” or “I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” or worse, “You don’t deserve this.”

And guess what? I’ll walk away from yet another fumble in life all the richer because I experienced the power of grace. Again.

How about you? Have you experienced grace lately?

Food For Fines a/k/a How Ramen Noodles Taught Me About Grace

January 9th marked the start of the annual food drive that Nashville’s Public Library conducts in order to purge people of all their sinful ways. I mean to waive their overdue fines.

As I approach the gentleman at the library, my face turns pink. My eyes often well with tears when I discuss my overdue fines. I preface our conversation with, “I’m probably on your most wanted list. I need to pay up before I can check anything out.” Fear veiled in humor is a dead giveaway.

He perches up on his elbow, leans in close and whispers, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” He points to the flyer that says “Food for Fines” and tells me to pay up then. “There is so much else to be concerned about.”

Problem is, when I go back on the day Food for Fines starts, he is nowhere in sight. I saunter up to the counter and face the nicely dressed woman who scares me. I force a smile and put my return books and canned goods on the table of shame. I pray that no one approaches behind me to witness my confession.

“I need to return these today.” This is really just to warm her up. “I’d also like to apply the cans to what I owe as well.” It would take no less than 50 cans of petite peas to completely erase our family library debt and I refuse to pull a Radio Flyer behind me.

She looks at me, then the cans, then the computer, pushes some buttons, and glares back at me through pointy silver-rimmed readers. She announces, in an outside voice, “But you have $19.40 to pay off,” so that everyone around me knows I’m guilty.

“Oh my, I didn’t realize it. Let’s just start with these,” I feign surprise at the amount I owe although it’s lower than what I anticipated. She takes my mercy cans and inspects them. I admit this was my clean-out-the-pantry effort, however, I did not submit anything expired. Afterwards, I go look for more books.

It wasn’t until my way out that I saw the official flyer. It stated in neat bullets what they would accept:

  • Canned Tuna/Chicken
  • Cereal
  • Canned Vegetables, Fruit, or Soup
  • Peanut Butter
  • Pasta

I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Clearly refried beans, jellied cranberry sauce, and bamboo shoots weren’t technically on the list.

I return the following Wednesday, this time with six cans of generic vegetables and find the nice worker. “Hi,” I look down and pray the tears away. “I’m here to pay off more of my debt.” He cracks a joke and senses my ill ease because once again, he tells me to relax.

“See those tall boxes?” He points to the back. “They have been overflowing with canned food all week. Literally spilling out. Some people have brought truckloads so don’t worry. We’ll take care of it.”

“I just feel so bad for racking up these fines.” I glance behind me and see a woman carrying a cardbox box, awaiting her turn at repentance.

I confess that he’s the nicest guy in the library and I confide my fear of the pointy glasses woman. He grabs my hand and offers the sincerest of thanks. “Nobody should be afraid to come to the library.”

He then pulls up all the fines my kids and I owe (I still don’t have the heart to bring up my husband’s account that probably has my lost book attached to it) as we laugh and take our time determining exactly how much more food it will take to wipe the slate clean. This is when he gives me an insider tip: Raman noodles. My eyes light up!

I tell him I will bring the noodles (six for a dollar…yippee!) in tomorrow since it is the last day of the food drive when he says, “Oh no, you don’t have to. The deadline [for grace] has been extended until Sunday!”

I tell ya…while chatting over peas and carrots, my little foreign friend taught me more about grace than I’ve heard in a long time.

I used to lug around a similar cardboard box that held the enormity of all I ever did wrong. Eventually the weight did me in and I finally got the nerve to state my case. Head hung low, I presented an offering that was equal to a bunch of dented cans filled with pureed shame because I had nothing else left.

And right then and there, He accepted everything I did without the slightest bit of judging. I will admit that I look for simple re-reminders from places just like the library. When I saw the tall boxes overflowing with cans, it painted a picture for me as though The Grand Canyon were right in front of me and it was abundant with…you guessed it. More ramen noodles than an eye could behold. Yet not even that beautiful creation can contain the sheer amount of grace He makes available to me!

So I commend you if you’ve lived a life worthy of sainthood or at least having a fellowship hall named after you. But for those of us who have stood outside the shadow of grace for far too long, the idea of a canyon filled with dried noodles makes perfect sense.

I learned through my friendly librarians that grace doesn’t come with a deadline or expire in 24 hours. No one has to be afraid to ask for it. You don’t have to carry it around with you and you don’t have to be afraid to lay it out before a loving God. All you have to do is accept it. Because it’s free. Because it’s immense. And because He already paid your debt.