Grace seems to be an unending theme in my life these days. And as with most things, I am learning that grace has an opposite. And for me, that opposite is bitterness.
Some days bitterness covers me so heavily and so completely that I don't even feel like a person anymore, but a thing. A thing that is dark and brooding, a thing that is bringing death and not life. Bitterness it seems, can take on an identity of it's own. It can eat away at you and move in on you and make you feel like you'll never experience light again.
Bitterness is ugly.
And it makes me feel ugly.
So instead, I have turned to grace. And grace is not easy by any means. It's not something we wake up and feel, it's not something that's automatic. Grace is messy and incomplete and in the middle. Grace doesn't categorize or give you answers or show you a calculated way of doing things.
Grace is a practice.
I had a friend that once told me "love expects the best".
I am finding, these days, that I mostly expect the worst.
The worst of people places and things.
The worst of God even.
I am constantly preparing, constantly protecting myself from everything.
It turns out, that grace only goes with vulnerability.
And it turns out, I can't offer it to others unless I offer it to myself.
And it turns out, I can't offer it to myself, unless I accept it from someone else.
And you see, this is where the bitterness comes in.
Bitterness tells me I can be angry and unforgiving and selfish because people have been angry and unforgiving and selfish with me.
Grace says the opposite.
Grace says our value does not come from whether we are bad or good, but that we are loved where we're at.
Grace says we don't have to have it figured out. It begs us to drop our expectations, to believe in love and faith and beauty and life despite despite despite EVERYTHING.
Grace says this world is a mess.
Grace says I am a mess too.
But it also says that it's OK to be messy.
So, these days, I am learning to practice grace. To practice letting people in, to stop seeing flaws and start seeing souls instead.
Bitterness has worn me out.
I'm tired.
But grace?
Grace is warm and inviting, grace is opening the door and looking up and out and saying--
I see you.
I see you and I care about you.
Grace is moving toward.
Grace is not giving up.
It's learning how to stay, even when we are afraid.
Bitterness is moving back.
We are the equalizers in this world.
We are the vessels of God's grace.
We get to decide when we are going to stop valuing people based on their goodness or their confidence or their looks or their talents or their popularity.
We decide.
I'm going to start letting grace seep deep into my being.
To stop demanding perfection of myself and those around me.
Grace.
It's not a novel concept.
It's rather old actually.
But somehow, I forgot.
And it has become a tune I long to hear most, a familiar verse that bears the resemblance of home.
That bears the resemblance of hope.
And oh, how beautiful hope is to our weary, wandering, broken bodies.
Practice grace.
Practice healing.
Grace is accessible to us.
Carry it with you, every day.
And leave bitterness behind while you're at it.
