[an excerpt from a post published with (in)courage] A story about reimagining faith when we cannot sense God’s nearness.
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To be part of the church is to enter a complicated relationship. We want a place to belong and to feel safe. But too often, our greatest wounds have happened within the folds. Bruised and perhaps a little bitter, we wonder: Can we love God without loving his church?
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If you’ve been around church people for amount of time, you’ve likely heard the word grace tossed about like confetti. Grace is essential to faith—but have we learned to cheapen it? Have we confused it with being #blessed? What, exactly, is grace?
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Lately, I’ve been asking God for something that makes me sweat. Each time I say it, it’s like I’m dangling not only me but also my kids out over a precipice—on the edge of disaster.
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My knees hit the floor with a thud, and my face planted in my hands as tears filled my palms. Kneeling next to our dirty laundry, I cried out, “God, why am I always the afterthought?
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While we could see the never-ending struggle as a burden, I want to see it as a gift. A beautiful package that reveals my need for a Savior and keeps me leaning into Him.
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It was as if I’d been stripped naked, and there she was, holding a spotlight and pointing out all the things I hated most about myself. “You think you’re better!”
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What if I’m wrong? What if God’s not real? Have I believed since I was three only because I didn’t know anything else?
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Grace doesn’t always come in pretty packages. Sometimes, it comes as a gift of brokenness.
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God’s been showing me how to approach life less from a survival-based mentality to one of expectant abundance. He’s moving my heart from searching for scraps to resting in His plenty.
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