It’s certainly part of God’s unfolding grace to not reveal how little we’ve understood until we’re further down His road.
At first, we catch stray glimpses of ourselves—ungainly; sometimes tripping over stones; embarrassed, not repentant. We judge that we can quickly find our stride—that we can overcome our slowness by more practice.
And then we learn that more is broken than we knew—that all that looked like confidence and legs was our attempt to fool ourselves, defend our pride, and keep our running reputation strong. We cancel all our marathons.
At last, we learn how much we’re like that man beside the pool—the paralytic Jesus lifted from a life that hadn’t moved in years. Unless His grace renews our legs and hope, we’ll always miss the road the Saviour longs to share with us.
If we knew all our weaknesses at once, and all up front, we might despair that even grace could lead us home. So it’s a mercy that we learn our ignorance and arrogance in pieces Jesus lets us know, accompanied by gentle, quiet laughter.
His grace, just like His love, is always patient and kind.
So stay in grace.