for this there is grace
grace for this
. . . . .
I think I know how I am going to spend my entire life:
Wrestling with grace.
There are probably worse ways to live.
For one reason or a thousand, I can’t grasp grace.
It’s beautiful. It’s undeserving. It’s hope-filled.
One thing I know about grace is that it meets us where we are.
A few years ago, I was having one of those days.
Well, really it was one of those seasons.
Nothing was going right.
Nothing was going my way.
I was exhausted. Depressed. Lost. Burned out. Lonely.
On this particular day, I had been up since 4 AM, which shouldn’t be a real thing and I still had not consumed coffee by 10 AM.
It was a miracle that I was functioning.
I wiped the tears from eyes and began to pray.
My words were scattered; I couldn't make sense of what I was saying, but if God hears our prayers I believe he can decipher their meaning.
I begged for God to remind me of who He was in my life.
I needed something to hold on to.
Something more than coffee, but also coffee.
I said Amen and stepped into the frigid cold. My hands trembled and my lips tightened. I whispered through my chapped lips “I hate the cold.” The aroma of coffee hit my nose as I stepped into Starbucks, a saving scent. I went over my order in my head as I stepped to the front counter.
“Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee.”
The barista had her back to me when I approached the counter.
I waited for a few seconds before she turned around.
“Hey! Welcome to Starbucks! What can I get started for you?” she asked.
My eyes locked with hers and then I glanced at her name tag.
Her name was Grace.
Grace was waiting for me.
Grace greeted me with a smile.
Grace met me right where I was.
“Coffee. Black coffee, please, Grace.”
“How's your day going?” asked Grace with a smile. Her smile swung across her face. I wondered if she could see the exhaustion I wore on mine or if it looked like I had just finished crying, because I had.
I wanted to be honest with her, but I kept it short.
“It's been a day. Yeah, it’s been a day.” I said.
“Oh, well I hope it gets better. Here is your coffee.”
Grace responded as she handed me a warm, white paper cup full of nectar.
“Amazing, Grace. Thank you. This has already made my day much better.”
I carefully handled the cup of coffee as if it was my first-born.
The first sip of coffee (even if is Starbucks) is always a fresh reminder that everything is going to be okay. I sat down for a few minutes before stepping out into the cold. My mind ran with words, fumbling, falling, and searching for something to hold on to. It was more than thinking, it was a conversation with God. I can't remember what I said, but I remember getting up and walking back to the car with energy.
Sure, the coffee was working, but it was more than coffee, it was hope.
Grace gives way to hope.