I squinted through the glass, studying the columns of ruffles, the blue sash, and the hint of puffed sleeves. My friend and I talked about the dress for weeks. But, I’m a pastor’s kid, which means I suffer from a love-hate relationship with shopping.
If a shrink had me on her couch, she’d probably dip up memories of my mom dragging me to the back of every store, past the full-price clothes that glimmered and whispered my name. Even at the age of ten, I knew I had a better chance getting my gerbil to paint the Mona Lisa than of owning that dress.
Photo courtesy of Christian Holzinger via unsplash.com
Several weeks later, my friend showed me her new Christmas outfit. As the gold taffeta swooshed around her legs, envy crawled up mine. I tried to smother images of the hand-me-downs I’d be wearing on Christmas Eve.
But, just then, grace happened.
My friend’s mom came into the room and handed me a shopping bag. Confused, I reached inside and pulled out a dress—the dress from the window.
Grace.
Usually, we talk about grace after a sin stops by for a visit. We drop the ball somehow and feel like we’ve shattered our sanctification, again—and, then, we think about grace.
But, the story of grace isn’t just about sin—sin is only a supporting actor. While God does spread his grace over our failures, he also sloshes it over the rest of our lives. His grace is like that dress—unexpected and filling our lives with beauty.
Even before that catastrophe in the Garden of Eden, when the serpent forced sin onto center stage and Adam and Eve went along for the ride, God had hung the world in grace. Life in this world was his gift to us. And, it still is.
Grace reaches out to embrace us through the morning sun, at the art gallery, and over a plate of grilled salmon. Sometimes, though, our radar only picks up divine motion during certain activities—like reading our Bibles, praying at small group, or taking communion. But, I think the hymn-writer understood it better:
This is my Father’s world:
he shines in all that’s fair;
in the rustling grass I hear him pass;
he speaks to me everywhere.
God weaves his grace through the minutia of our lives, hoping that we’ll find his comfort in the breeze, his richness in filet mignon, and his generosity in a vintage-style dress.
Where have you found God this week? Share your answers on Facebook or Twitter.
what you said. and in music. 🙂