The days pass and the online furor settles like so much dust on a window sill. A casual passerby might not notice but it’s my house, and that dust weighs heavy on my heart.
We can talk about freedom and we can talk about theology and labels and where do we all fit and how will anyone ever see Jesus? The local church? Really, God? That was your plan?
We say we love Jesus and we build walls, we shove people out, we use kids to advance our position, we deny opportunities, we fling mud and hate in all directions. That World Vision mess got real, real messy. And I don’t imagine it’s really over for anyone.
I’ve yelled a lot these past few weeks and cried a lot, too, but last night I realized. In all the mess and ugly, I’ve seen grace. Two voices in particular, one on either side of the hedges, have sang to me – notes of broken beauty and hope and olive branches extended, and in the lines and between the lines, I’ve heard the song of grace. And the broken places hurt just a little bit less. And isn’t that what this year is about for me? Experiencing and extending grace?
It’s with a tender heart and nervous hope that I invite you to consider these bits of grace, too.
“We found ourselves standing together on the beautiful core conviction that shame is not of Jesus. We lamented over the obsession[…]Christians have regarding any and all sex. Grieved over our Bible, the way it had been sharpened into a shank against every one of us.” – Benjamin Moberg
“I find it so ironic as a Bible teacher that the Savior of the world boiled down the kingdom to such a simple formula while me and mine exegete everything within an inch of its life. When I get bogged down, I always remember Jesus: Love God and love people. There you are. Do this and you will live. The end. I love Him.” – Jen Hatmaker