scribbled revisions

Grace.

Most often for me, it hits me when I don’t realize how much I need it.

When I’ve forgotten how badly I need it.

And how much I’ve missed it.

How much…

I don’t even know how much. It must be a lot.

Grace shows up when you least expect it. When you’re least looking for it.

Like today, on my commute home. The route I’ve driven how many hundred times after how many hundred days of work. It was the dark clouds up ahead. Most people find a lack of sunshine and blue skies to be sad. To me, it makes the universe feel a little smaller, and I feel held. Once you’ve felt grace’s hold, you don’t want to let go of it. You want the embrace to last just a little longer, just enough so that you won’t forget how it feels when you need it to carry you through the day.

That’s the thing about grace. When grace hits, you realize how deeply you’ve missed it, and it hurts like hell. That may sound ironic or even irreverent, but sometimes the only words that suffice are the truth.

Come Thou Fount of ev’ry blessing,

Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;

Streams of mercy, never ceasing,

Call for songs of loudest praise.

Teach me some melodious sonnet

Sung by flaming tongues above;

Praise the mount, I’m fixed upon it

Mount of Thy redeeming love.