We’re singing about grace this morning.
Marvelous, infinite, matchless grace.
And here’s the thing about grace.
It tastes all the sweeter when you’re really and truly convinced that you don’t deserve it, that you didn’t do anything to earn it.
In fact, that’s what makes it grace.
Once upon a time I didn’t know the wretchedness of my own heart.
I was a good girl, a rule-follower, a perfectionist.
I grew up knowing about Jesus, knowing all the right answers.
I was dead in my trespasses and sins (Eph. 2:1).
My righteousness, my striving, my efforts would never be enough.
Gracious and compassionate, abounding in love,
This God snatched me up out of my self-righteous striving and set me free.
Free from finding my identity in what I’ve done, free into living my true identity as Beloved.
Free from running hard to prove myself, free into abundant, extravagant rest.
Free from fear of not being enough, of not doing enough, free into confidence that Jesus paid it all.
Free from red-hot anger that feels justified in the moment, free into honestly seeing my own brokenness and feeling empathy. Free into love.
It all catches me a little breathless again this morning.
This story I’ve heard thousands of times, this utter dependence and absolute need for rescue.
And this grace.
This marvelous, infinite, matchless grace.
Grace that shines light into darkness.
Grace that breathes life into dead hearts.
Grace that is greater than all our sin.