Archives For Grace

For some Christians, the last couple months have felt like a re-run of 127 Hours—the movie about Aron Ralson, the solo hiker who got pinned under a bolder in a Utah canyon. He survived, but only by cutting off his forearm with a pocketknife. Similarly, the legalization of same-sex marriage has left many Christians feeling pinned between two choices—lay there and watch conservative Christianity die or cutoff themselves off from culture. 

 

Thankfully, though, those aren’t our only options, because we Christians have more than knife in our pocket. We’ve got grace in there, too. 

 

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To be a Christian, after all, means that we’ve stepped into God’s grace and set up home there. People should be able to smell that grace lingering on us. And, that same grace should motivate us do whatever it takes to keep the lines of communication open for the gospel. 

 

But, what if we lose our religious freedoms? What if the court had revoked Kim Davis’ title and sentenced her to jail? What if pastors who refuse to marry same-sex couples get charged with hate crimes Continue Reading…

I tear the envelope open and unfold the jury summons. Grumble. The secretary double books my 11:00 appointment. Complain. I feel lonely on a Friday night. Grumble. Complain. Grumble.

 

Hi, my name is Shannon, and I’m a complainer. 

 

Nearly ten years ago, I signed myself into rehab with the Holy Spirit. Since then, I’ve made good progress, but still have frequent relapses. No, let me call it straight. I still sin. I rob God of worship when I complain and refuse to acknowledge his goodness. 

 

2241989981 bb800c8b2a bPhoto courtesy of bored-now via flickr.com

 

I find it strange that hardly anyone comments on my complaining, let alone reminds me that it’s a sin. Well, except my mom, and only rarely. Usually, my friends and family (mom included) listen and empathize.


Maybe they’ve forgotten that complaining is a sin. Or, maybe they’ve chosen to extend grace and believe that God works in broken people, too Continue Reading…

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.

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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 Continue Reading…