Speak to us of grace
February 1, 2011
Praise be to the God who measures me not by my failures, but my willingness and ability to repent, grow, and love as he loves. Praise be to the father of the broken. I find my rest in the author of love. I forfeit my fears and my failures to the one who redeems and reconciles all things to him through his sacrifice. I am unworthy of such perfect grace. I open my hands to receive his outpouring. I drink it in and am transformed. I will learn. I will grow. I will walk in his footsteps. Though at times my feet are unsteady, and though my knees may give way, my father strengthens me and helps me to my feet. He will neither leave nor forsake me. He will not cast me out, but instead will regard me as precious and seek me out, just as the shepherd leaves the herd to search for the lost. So long as my eyes are fixed, his hand never leaves me. He uplifts me, and together we walk again. He tends my wounds, comforts me and even carries me when I can go no further. The story doesn’t change should I fall again. His mercies are new every day. Incipit vita nova. A new life begins.
