The Good Life: Sparkles of Grace in Ordinary Days

http://www.urbancusp.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/UC.jpgI think it started when my young, single mom took my sister and me to Maple Lane United Methodist Church in South Bend, Indiana. I remember the  blue-green padded pews and Mrs. Kovach playing the organ. And in little, important ways I began to hunger for God.

Eventually we moved to the suburbs of Chicago. The quaint little Methodist church was exchanged for the contemporary, exhilarating mega church, Willow Creek. And my hunger to know God rekindled. There was Bill Hybels preaching his heart out and drama and music and people who gently directed me into the relationship that simultaneously satiated and whetted my appetite for Him.

Everything changed.

Well, nothing on the outside actually changed. But, in reality- on the inside- everything changed.

From those days until now, I am His.

It doesn’t always look that way. I often look like a whiny, bratty child, resisting Him relentlessly. Maybe I embarrass Him. But, through it all, He claims me. Honestly, my mind cannot grasp it. It’s unfathomable that He fiercely set His face toward the cross and poured out His blood to make me His.

So this is what I mean by the good life. I endure hard stuff. And my days overflow with what seems unimportant and trivial.

But the good life means that in and out and through it all I’m convinced that I am wholly loved. Every nook and cranny of my soul is brimming with His staggering love for me. I don’t always remember it. I usually don’t feel it. But I know it.

So, even in my darkest moments, deep, deep in the very pit of my soul I am unshaken. His love grounds me.

And it powers me. I am His. Purpose radiates! Through every mundane moment. Cleaning the bathroom. Folding laundry. Trying a new recipe. Playing games with the kids. Sitting on the couch with my husband. It’s all fraught with meaning.

blue-sky-and-white-clouds_w520There are sparkles of grace everywhere. May I have eyes to see and celebrate them. The stack of dirty dishes in the sink is a clear testimony that we have food. Books and toys and clothes strewn around the house are proof that our lives are abundant. Even the sound of arguing kids is a reminder that my kids are still home with me, and we are working out how to live in relationship with other humans.

Not to mention the brilliant shimmers of face-value grace. Like the smell and sound of rain with the windows open. Laughter. Holding a cup of hot coffee on a snowy day. Crackling fireplaces. Friends.

I invite you to join the journey! We can uncover glints of grace together as we live regular life through the lens of being completely loved.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “The Good Life: Sparkles of Grace in Ordinary Days

  1. “So, even in my darkest moments, deep, deep in the very pit of my soul I am unshaken. His love grounds me.” I used to be able to say this; believe this. But as of about 15 months ago — or more precisely 470 days ago — I am shaken. Oh, there are still things I know in my head. I just don’t feel it in my heart of hearts.

    I used to love sitting on the front row at church. My children learned early on to just head for the front. You would want a front row seat at a concert so why not a front row seat at church? Again, so true until 470 days ago. Now my seat is in the balcony, last row, as far from the front of the church as I can get and still be in the sanctuary.

    Those beaten trails and paths I so eagerly took to every morning, I still tread on them, just not with the same anticipation. I have always been able to reconcile the prayers not answered satisfactorily — until 470 days ago. Except for that one. God answered so many prayers I prayed for others. Why not that prayer? The prayer meant so much to me? To my daughter? I will never know and as yet, have not reconciled this one.

    So, in my darkest moment, deep, deep in the very pit of my soul … I am shaken.

    Like

    1. Thank you for sharing, my dear sister. I’m very honored to sit with you in your pain. No, I have not had the pain you and your daughter share. My heart breaks with you.

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s