Sometimes in a harried week, the Spirit’s voice breaks through with bell-like clarity: “You aren’t your own: you’re bought with a price.” Believers thus don’t own themselves—their work, their worship, marriages, or mortgages. All things belong to Him whose grace still flows to deeply-wounded lives. Grace heals all our brokenness—especially the pride that makes us claim all things depend on us. If Jesus is before all things—if all things hold together just because of Him (Col 1:17)—then we may trust all things to Him. Breathe deeply of the joy best known when letting go and letting God. And stay in grace.
The Gift of Grace
We dream of grace the way a child dreams of birthdays, imagining that once a year God might be as good as Scripture says He is.
And then to learn that God is good on every day; that Jesus is unimaginably and unchangeably kind; that He forgives our sins without resenting us, and embraces us as though we had given Him some great gift—this fills our mouths with holy laughter and all our days with deep amazement. It is not what we expected: it is not what we deserve.
We are the “gifted” ones—the blessed—on every day, in every way.
Stay in grace—
Grace for Prodigals
“I once was found, but now am lost;
Had sight, but now am blind.”
Does grace still reach for us when we walk—or run—away from goodness? When we turn our backs toward home and seek amusements in a far country?
Nothing could be clearer than that Jesus is the Lord of second chances. When we have traded gold for trash, and walked away from all that’s holy, just, and good, we are—amazing!—not only eligible to return, but wrapped in welcome when we do.
Grace doesn’t wait on the front porch until the prodigal comes home. Grace follows him through every bad choice, each wasted opportunity until homesickness happens.
“I will arise and go to my Father,” we say, afraid the grace we knew might have been drained while we were gone. But then we feel the Father’s arms around us; we find how well the Father’s robe still fits; we taste the Father’s food in our mouths. And we can’t deny—or ever fully understand—the love that will not let us go.
“And grace will lead me home.”
Blessed Assurance
Is there a greater joy than knowing for even one hour you are in the center of God’s will—that through some miracle of grace, you are aligned with plans He made to win you and the ones you love?
Is there a better confidence than the one that every week reminds you “the earth is theLord’s,and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it”?
Can there be a greater security than when Jesus’ word of certainty penetrates your fears and doubts with the assurance, “He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together”?
The answers, my friend, are “no,” “no,” and “no”—"nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Your hope will rise; your joy will grow.
Christ will keep you in perfect peace as you stay in grace.
Surprised by Grace
The grace of Jesus is endlessly surprising.
When we’ve accomplished something big and lungs are swelling with self-importance, His quiet word advises us, "Humble yourself in the sight of the Lord."
And when we’re feeling so low and wretched about ourselves that we think no one so holy and pure as Jesus would ever want anything to do with slime like us, His grace invites us—"Whoever comes to me, I will never cast out."
When we’re planning revenge on an enemy who has wounded us and made us bleed, grace pries the anger from our fists: "Turn the other cheek,” He says. “Love those who persecute you."
And when we’re sure we’ve blown it big and ruined all our chances at forever, grace grips us with a love that never lets us go: "God sent the Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through Him.
Grace is God’s always unexpected gift.
So stay in grace.
Written in Red
The storyline is sadly clear: our foolish, broken choices lost for us what heaven gladly gifted us.
But there is more to write: grace takes the pen, and writes—in red—“FORGIVEN” over all our sins.
And then, like learning how to write again, we trace new characters that spell out “kindness,” “service,” “loyalty” and “love.”
The story is not finished until He Who calls Himself the Word actually writes the last word. The Author of our faith will yet be the Finisher of it. And grace will lead us home.
So stay in grace.
Unfettered Joy
Grace is a holiday—a holy day—that breaks the graveyard shift of sin. If grace does not result in joy, it's just because we've told it wrong or added foreign matter to it.
The rescued and forgiven heart leaps up to love the Lord, and only later learns to ask, “What may I do in gratitude?"
His gift is proved more true and sweet when we take long vacations from our fears: that rippling laughter overhead is Jesus joining in our joy.
When He says "grace," He never adds a "but" or "yet"—or warns us to get back to work to earn what He has given.
He who was and is and is to come is always God's delighted "Yes!" to us.
The Touch of Grace
Grace builds kinder, wiser lives.
As we admit our brokenness, we stand among the broken. When we confess why we need Christ’s forgiveness, we learn to offer others what He in mercy offers us.
Grace moderates our judgments, quiets over-eager tongues, and preserves us from the curse of always needing to be right.
Grace blesses all it touches, including everyone we touch in Jesus’ name. It is the surest sign that we were made for peace and fellowship.
So stay in grace.
What Grace Erases
When conscience first attacks our wrongs—when we’ve gushed hot and angry words; indulged in something bad for us; lied to our loved ones or ourselves—we cringe as though the sky will fall. Fear tells us—multiplied by guilt—mistakes are inexcusable; that we are irredeemable. But that’s when we must shout the gospel to ourselves, or find some kindly soul who knows it: “Christ Jesus came into the world tosavesinners—of whom I am the foremost” (I Tim 1:15). The only sin grace can’t erase is one you won’t let Christ forgive. Speak truth—and freedom—now to life. And stay in grace.
Confidence
I am more convinced than I was 10 years ago that there is no righteousness apart from Christ.
I am more certain than I was a year ago that I have no righteousness of my own.
I am more persuaded than I was a month ago that all that Jesus wills for me will come to me by living in His grace.
I am more assured than I was a week ago that when the Father looks at me, He sees the loveliness of Jesus.
I am more confident than I was yesterday that grace will triumph in my story through Him whose power holds everything together.
And I will be more certain of these things tomorrow than I am today, because of Christ who began this work in me.
Join me in growing past our fears to confidence in Jesus. And stay in grace.
Grace is an Invitation
That moment when we trust ourselves to grace—haltingly, even tentatively—becomes the pivot of our everafter. Our looming fear reminds us always of our sins: it tempts us to believe that only righteous deeds can ever change the Father’s frown. But Scripture tells us we are deeply and unchangeably loved “while we were yet sinners,” before we knew to tidy up our act, behave accordingly, or polish our veneers. Jesus is the Father’s standing—kneeling, dying, rising—invitation to trust that love that will not let us go. Our Lord invites us to embrace the grace we never thought was meant for us, to revel in the long, essential kindness we will never deserve but may always enjoy. So stay in grace.
Whom Grace Offends
We commonly assume that grace is always “gracious”—quiet, not confronting, ever pleasant. But grace is rarely welcome news or even sweet to those intent on documenting their effort. Its greatest symbol—yes, the cross—is “foolishness” to those who stubbornly insist that their salvation hangs on prayers, on deeds, on penitential living. They stumble on the cross, for it completely blocks the self-willed way to heaven. Our hearts, unless reclaimed by grace, resist the gospel of salvation, for it proclaims our helplessness, our foolishness, our brokenness. But whom grace first offends, it offers finally Christ’s healing and His righteousness. Accept His grace—and stay in it.
Companionable Grace
When we accept the gift of grace, the Lord appoints—anoints—a company of friends to hold us and encourage us. It is the task of our discipleship to discover them, welcome their God-given role, and share the journey with them. Theirs is no accidental role, as though the Master lacked a plan: Jesus knows we need their faith. They may be near at hand but initially unknown; they may be longtime friends whose deep maturity is needed now. Jesus calls us one by one, but always sends us two by two. Pray to discern the godly friends the Saviour gathers ‘round you. And stay in grace.