What IS grace, really?

I know it's the word we use to describe the main point of Christianity.  I know it has something to do with what Jesus did on the cross.  I know we say it at dinner time.  And we attempt to give it to each other when we screw up.  But what IS it, really? And how the heck do I live like it's real?

I came home from work the other day.  Ordinary day.  Nothing special.  Nothing too hard.  But as I was headed to my laptop out of habit, I looked down and saw a big box on the ground.  I glanced at it but continued moving (as it is common to find random objects in #9),  but then did a double-take, realizing that my name was on the label.  For me? It's for me? From who? Why? I tore the box open and found inside a whole treasure cove of things that I loved: a journal, homemade chocolate chip cookies, an iTunes gift card, a DVD, sour patch kids... I felt like a  seven year old at Christmas time.  I searched the bottom of the box for a card.  Nothing.  I looked at the label again and saw that it was from my brother's address.  When I called him up to ask him why he sent it, his answer was simply "No reason." 

Grace.  That was it.  Lavish giving for no reason but love. 

1 Corinthians 15:10 "But by the grace of God I am what I am."

By the grace of God, I had a Grandma who prayed for me long before I was born.  By the grace of God, I grew up with two parents who honestly loved each other and the Lord deeply.  By the grace of God, I have a family that rejoices together and delights in each others' company.  By the grace of God, I grew up memorizing the Word of God.  By the grace of God, I could cling to it when life was too painful to focus on anything else.  By the grace of God, I've been given the ability to read and write and speak and run and plan and strategize and work hard.  By the grace of God, I know how to cry out to Him in times of weakness and in times of celebration.  By the grace of God, I've always been surrounded with community to love me and point me back to Him.  By the grace of God, I have a job and a nice boss and great friends.  By the grace of God, I have been put in a place to minister to others in a way that gives me more purpose and joy than I could ever have hoped for.  By the grace of God, I have words to say and wisdom when to be silent when I receive a cry for help.  By the grace of God, I am what I am.

Lavish giving for no reason but love. 

I hesitate to write all of this, in fear that it might be taken to mean that if someone has not had all these things or if, one day, it all gets stripped away from me, that God no longer loves. But I have confidence that many others, in quite different circumstances, have their own stories of His lavish provision and grace in their lives.

But sadly, this hesitation keeps me from ever giving credit to where it's really due.  I don't always understand when God chooses to give and when He chooses to take away.  But I do know that He's given to me abundantly and I need to praise Him for it.

Thank you God, for your grace.  And thank you, brother, for giving me a living parable of what His grace really is.

Ode to a Bicycle

So many days I’d wake up with a start,
in fear of what I’d find to do that day –
for all my friends had chosen to depart
and I was left with no one who could play.
But then the joy within me would return
when I’d recall I was not all alone –
for you were waiting right outside for me
knowing just how much my soul did yearn
to explore the world beyond what was my home
and to, from my confined room, be set free.

And so we’d ride out in the morning sun –
first straight through the crowded streets of town.
We’d go much further than I could ever run –
where the hills rolled not up but down.
And somewhere along the journey I’d forget
how much my limbs did long for some respite
and all the bustle of the city and my thoughts
would vanish behind the tranquil silhouette
of palm trees by an ocean only fit
for a painter’s canvas or writers’ plots.

And after staring at that glorious site
we’d turn around to climb back up the hill.
And even though it used up most my might,
the victory upon return produced such thrill.
But unlike that triumph at the end of those great rides –
when I think how you’ve been taken away from me
and how I know not where you’ve really gone –
I feel such a sense of sadness deep inside.
Never again will we ride away so free
into the unfettered world for which I long.