She is our first-born (by three minutes) and we put Grace in her name, right in the middle. It’s a word I spent many years circling around with eyes narrowed and arms crossed, a word I thought I understood. But that was back when I knew everything.
Those early days of walking confidently up to grace when I thought I had it figured out come back to me this morning. I shake my head, feel my cheeks grow warm. I have so much to learn. This grace that comes from the hand of God, this grace that is God, is not just a thing to be figured out or a theology to be dissected.
We put grace up on our two-pan balance scale and try to come up with something that will balance it out on the other side. But grace wins every time, stays heavy on the right, sinks hard into the middle of my good intentions and mixed-motives. Grace doesn’t budge no matter what I come up with.
To write anything about God and the gospel feels presumptuous. What could I possibly say? I tip-toe up to grace now, head bowed down low, eyes stinging, hands open. Sometimes I think we make it all a bit complicated. We have our degrees and our affiliations and we intellectualize our points. There is a place for that, there is. I don’t normally feel comfortable sitting there, though.
Small is fast becoming my new home. Sometimes it hurts to be small. We work so hard to be big, and sometimes we catch a glimpse of it. If they don’t see how big we are? Then we must become bigger. There are many rights I think I have and I hold them with both hands.
But Jesus came down. Became poor. Became less. Became small.
While I was in California a short time ago, it was an honor to sit down with Charles Morris of Haven Today to talk about grace. Just saying that speeds up my heart, because what could I possibly have to say? But we all have a story to tell and it’s one that ultimately isn’t about us.
We sink heavy into our own smallness, and it’s in that place where we lose our life. And also find it.
Since it’s part of her name, I think of grace every time I call her. Every time she lags behind, skins her knee, shouts at her brother, reads me her book, runs to the neighbor’s house – every place she is, there is grace. It fits there in the middle. It floats around her as she plays. I pray she grows to know that even though she will never fully understand what her name means, she will also never be able to escape it. And that is a gift.
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Jenifer says
May 29, 2012 at 9:07 AMSimply beautiful, Emily.
I also have a Grace and every time I think of Grace, I think of His grace. And every time I think of His grace, I think of my Grace. {smiles}
Elizabeth says
May 29, 2012 at 9:16 AMoh Emily this is a work of art, here in black and white on this screen. And it speaks to me, I am re-reading to savor. And I am trying too to understand so much “to write anything about God and the gospel seems presumptuous”. It really does. Because of His grace we have the “luxury” of muddling through with our understanding, whatever that is. Those increments of understanding and knowing seem to come to me, well incrementally. And then the humble setbacks and re-focusing of our understanding. Thank you for walking this out on the ledge of bravery. Beautifully, so beautifully written , to me and seemingly for me.
Jennifer@GDWJ says
May 29, 2012 at 9:21 AMThere is great comfort in smallness, nestled down in the gigantic hand of God. You look right at home there, Ms. Emily, in that place of grace. You wear John 3:30 well.
Jamie says
May 29, 2012 at 9:26 AMOh, I really feel you on this. On how grace is so much bigger than our words. And yet somehow or another I try to verbalize grace on my blog every now and then, and you are someone I have to thank for that, for how grace flows through you and teaches me. Grace is also in my oldest’s name, but like you, I didn’t really know much about it when I thought I did back then. God is in the details. I’m thankful He is who He is. And for His grace that transforms even such as me.
Charissa Steyn says
May 29, 2012 at 9:36 AMyour words always minister to me! this is so beautiful. i so resonate with this, “Small is fast becoming my new home. Sometimes it hurts to be small. We work so hard to be big, and sometimes we catch a glimpse of it. If they don’t see how big we are? Then we must become bigger. There are many rights I think I have and I hold them with both hands.” how very true.
Katrina says
May 29, 2012 at 9:41 AMI’m the older, law-loving, good-girl sister of a prodigal who came home unwed and pregnant, scrapped up by the hard living that comes to the runaway. In a softer moment, we sat down over the baby book to mull it all over. Heavy with guilt, my broken sister thought deeply about meaning, derivatives, and root words. That Greek word for grace “charis” just kept coming up. This July my niece Karissa will turn 12. Every time I see her sunny hair and freckles, I think how God smiles to make these glorious reconstructions of our failings, our judgment, and our wreck. He reclaims and renames us.
Shelly Miller says
May 29, 2012 at 10:04 AMLove the way you describe grace on a two-pan balance scale, its the perfect imagery. I’ve been feeling this smallness, recognizing my selfishness like looking at window dressings along a busy sidewalk. Feeling a bit naked, but its right where I need to be and I am grateful.
Laci says
May 29, 2012 at 10:23 AMSmall is where I stay or rather where I have been “kept”. It’s where He and I mesh, intertwine and unfold. It is hard because it can feel like a lonely place most days. My understanding (or ignorance) likes to precede forward to the beat of this worlds drum and not soak in the moments. But because of the years of accepting my smallness, my heart has greater authority than that of my understanding and ultimately always gives way to the beat of His heart.
In His grace I have been kept, filled and will not be left longing.
“And now I entrust you to God and the message of his grace that is able to build you up and give you an inheritance with all those he has set apart for himself. Acts 20:32
Erica {let why lead} says
May 29, 2012 at 10:49 AMThat IS a gift. Thanks for writing. Also, I completely love your photos.
Kerry @ Made For Real says
May 29, 2012 at 11:45 AMGrace is a gift! And it’s beyond comprehension that He allows us to grow in it daily. He wants that for us.
Great thought to officially boost the week. Thank you
Lisa says
May 29, 2012 at 12:09 PMReally ,truly, the idea and fact of grace in unfathomable. I am overwhelmed and blessed.
Gina {Seamless} says
May 29, 2012 at 12:16 PMSo beautiful. You have a gift. I look forward to listening when the mayhem of the morning subsides a bit.
It’s so nice meeting you!
amber says
May 29, 2012 at 12:43 PMyour words, your pictures, your heart.
they are good for the soul. they challenge me.
i am super excited to start reading your book!
thank you for sharing your beautiful heart with us.
Diana Trautwein says
May 29, 2012 at 12:47 PMSo lovely, Emily. Thank you. We have a granddaughter named Grace and I think of grace every time she’s around. And that ever-lovin’ need to be bigger? Oh yeah, I am SO familiar with that. Someday I’m going to write about how that has played itself out over my long life, particularly in regard to issues with weight/eating. Ouch.
Kris says
May 29, 2012 at 1:21 PMYour words are seeping in, and God is using them to loosen my scabs, your story is so much like mine….. thank you for this……
Jamie says
May 29, 2012 at 2:24 PMGrace. Touches my soul, like a soothing balm. For without it, I would be nothing. Thank you for this sweet reminder!
Anna says
May 29, 2012 at 2:31 PMthat is sweet. Our Grace has led is with childlike faith as well. Its only been two short years but I have learned enough for a lifetime and know that it will be many lifetimes by the end of the journey. it is all grace isnt it…….
Ali @ Be Not Afraid says
May 29, 2012 at 3:31 PMOh Emily. All of this, especially that last line, is beautiful. Thank you.
Darcy @ Message in a Mason Jar says
May 29, 2012 at 4:34 PMI’ve been thinking a lot about your post the other day…that the human soul wasn’t made for fame. And this goes right along with it, your words about how we work so hard to be big and how if they don’t see how big we are, we work to become bigger. I just finished reflecting/writing on a poem my grandfather wrote years ago: “Even as the seed must die to yield the noble tree/So must I in earnest try to yield a part of me”. The seed can only transform into its most glorious form by going down, being hidden. Same with us. While the prideful fall, those who go low are lifted up.
Amy Hunt -- a {Grace} full *life* says
May 29, 2012 at 7:18 PMIt’s humbling, isn’t it? We think we choose the name, and lo and behold…He’s got it all figured out, knowing just what *we* need in the naming, in the creating, in the living.
Blessings, friend. Rich, sweet blessings of peace and love. May you drink them up.
Claire says
May 29, 2012 at 7:48 PMEmily, I hope you write more books because what you say speaks to me in a way that most things do not. I love the things you post. This is beautiful.
Southern Gal says
May 29, 2012 at 9:37 PMThis way you write is such a gift. Some of the things you said here made me suck in my breath. I teach a Sunday school class and sometimes it’s just easier to take it back to the place of simplicity. There is a time for that, too. Thanks for reminding me.
Ina says
May 30, 2012 at 11:09 AMEmily, I happened to hear you on “Haven” last night as I was unloading the dish washer and washing dishes. It was nice to hear your voice and “meet” you! Thanks for expressing and leading us good girls to His more excellent way.
Christina says
May 31, 2012 at 12:39 AM“We sink heavy into our own smallness, and it’s in that place where we lose our life. And also find it.” I love this. To steep so deeply in God’s grace, to decrease, and then find ourselves in the midst of abundance for it…
tonia says
May 31, 2012 at 9:47 AMit’s true, isn’t it? how once we strut right up to grace with our wings spread and all that confidence to make us swell bigger and we’re so sure we know what *that’s* all about, we barely have need of it. and then one day, or maybe a long string of days, after living and falling and breathing dirt so long we can’t remember the smell of sky anymore, we find ourselves before grace again. only this time we are small and aching and our face is stained with tears and the earth and the shame of our former strutting bends us even lower. ….or maybe that’s just how it was for me. 🙂 the thing is, you know when you meet another person who has tasted real grace, not as a theological concept, but as a lifeline and a treasure. …. hello, sister.