Grace.

Grace.  Its a word I'm coming to know.  I'm coming to learn.  Grace is it.  Finished.  Done.  There is not more of it.  There is not less of it.  There just is: Grace.

Grace is God.  Grace is His stamp.  Grace is His offering.  Grace is His love.  

Grace is his answer to my self.

Grace.

I sang in church last Sunday, word chorusing from my lips, but my mind far off, dwelling on grace.  Hearing the word "Redeemed" like an embossment, over me.  Redeemed.  No more, no less.  Done.  He has redeemed it: me.  

He hasn't asked for more.  He isn't waiting for more.  He's isn't skeptical with a check list.  He isn't waiting for me to fail.  He isn't measuring my identity to the standards I measure my own.  He isn't comparing to my forayed image of perfection.  He isn't asking for performance, or productiveness.  He isn't judging the use of my minutes, my hours, my moments, my day.

He is Grace.  Done.

The word is prayed over me, known over me.  She speaks, "Satan is telling you that...  If God wanted you to be Ghandi, he would have made you Ghandi."  And she prayer His Truth over me.  His desire for relationship.  He's words, "Be still and know that I am God."

She writes, "But for now we need to see that we begin to rest in God when we cease to keep up fronts and pretenses with Him..." (The Glorious Pursuit) with her encouragement.


I read, "...trusting God's grace to overcome that inadequacy... to accept that we will never measure up, but that we do not have to... anything that makes me feel discomfort with God's forgiving love is also a cruel deception." (Grace Notes, Phillip Yancey)


I ponder, "It is by grace you have been saved..."  (Ephesians 2:5) and "there is now no condemnation in Christ...."  (Romans 8:1).  Do I even begin to understand this grace?  To know there is no greater love?  There is no greater Truth?  There is no greater, final acceptance?


And so I begin to understand the living, the loving, the accepting of Grace.