Grace in a Manger

I believe in grace – deeply, passionately, resolutely, unflinchingly.

I know exactly who I am and what I’m capable of doing. I have seen the darkness in my heart and loathe it.

That’s why I depend on grace – utterly thankful that God characterizes Himself with this thing called grace.

Grace lifts my head up when I feel the weight of the shame of my actions.

It nudges me on when I can’t reconcile who I am with who others think I am.

It beckons me to take the next step when the voices of my critics yell loudly in my subconscious.

Grace equips me with peace for the journey and confidence for the road.

It overflows my heart with joy when I know where I ought to be yet I see where I have been graciously placed.

Grace gives me the confidence to speak when I have lost my right to say anything.

It gives me the right to rest securely where I should not belong.

It allows me the privilege of walking freely in high places I didn’t earn.

I love grace.

Grace shapes me into the woman I ought to be – patiently, powerfully, persistingly.

It changes me from the woman I once was and rebuilds me from the inside out.

It pursues me relentlessly and recklessly.

Grace allows me to be patient with others.

It equips me with forgiveness when I’m wronged.

It grants me power over my enemy.

I believe in grace with everything I am.

Two thousand years ago grace was born in a manger, and my life has never been the same again.

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