What if, when we were wrong, the response was thoughtful listening and respect?
What if, when tempers snap, we were quick-wrapped in gentle joy?
What if, when we confessed our pride, we were embraced by those who deeply know their brokenness—included, freed, forgiven?
Why, this would be a heaven on this earth—a place where healing flourishes and misspent lives can be made whole. This is where we’d spend our time—among the ones who make us know we’re safe, accepted, and renewed.
Among such people, we could grow. We’d soon discover we no longer need the weapons of our war. If we can be mistaken and yet fully loved, we’ll rapidly repent of all the wasted time we spend defending our depletions.
These people will become our sanctuary, our church—with or without a building built of brick and glass. This will be the Holy Spirit’s home.
This is the house that grace builds—a living room, a rented hall, a steepled church where Welcome Ave meets Freedom Street.
So meet me where forgiven folk still joyously forgive.
And stay in grace.