From Grief to Grace

Romans 20:5 -- "But where sin increased, grace increased all the more."

image: Kelly Babb Dalton

The breaks screamed against the forward momentum of my red '91 Pontiac Sunbird and finally brought the vehicle to a complete stop on the side of the road. Hands shaking and knees wobbling, I slowly crossed the blacktop and timidly approached the grass that grew on the easement of Oakwood Circle. Tears had already begun to poor down the sides of my face and I didn't care that my make-up had been ruined for Sunday morning services at First Baptist Dickson, Tennessee.

In fact, the only thing about which I could bring myself to care was the tiny twitching body of the squirrel that ran under the front of my car as I rounded the last corner. I wanted desperately to pick him up and rush him to the vet. My heart was broken.

When the little animal drew in his last little breath I sunk down into the grass and sobbed - all the while whispering to the poor creature that I was so, so sorry.

I can't even begin to imagine the agony one must feel when the accidental collision involves a human being instead of a little scruffy tree rat.

But the late Mark Hatfield could.

While driving his mother's car at the tender age of 17 Mark accidentally hit Alice Marie Lane when she tried to cross the street. And while Mark was cleared of all criminal charges against him, he was later taken to civil court by Lane's family. No amount of money, however, could ever ease the horrible heart-break for both families suffering from this awful event. Even if the Lane family completely forgave him, Mark would carry that terrible tragedy with him for the rest of his life.

The story could have ended there - if not for grace.

In 1957 Mark Hatfield was elected Oregon's 16th Secretary of State. He would later become the state's 29th Governor - the office from which he would serve in both the legislative and executive branches of Oregon state government. In 1967 Mark began his career as United States Senator becoming the longest serving senator from the state of Oregon - and - in 1968 he was the Republican candidate for Vice President.

Quite the outstanding resume, if you ask me -- and an extraordinary example of grace after grief.

Think of all the things that might not have come to fruition for the state of Oregon [and our country] had Mark disappeared into the shadows of history after his fatal encounter with Alice Marie Lane?

How do you pick yourself up and dust yourself off after something like that?

After any life altering mistake/tragedy?

Well, the truth is YOU don't. GOD does.

Romans 20 verse 5 tells us that where sin abounds - grace abounds all the more. But you and I have to accept that grace. We can't allow sin or grief or anger to take control of us. Sometimes, it is in the wake of real tragedy that God can become strongest in our lives. Because - sometimes it is only in the moments when we find ourselves unable to walk - or even breath on our own - that we discover how truly amazing and unending is the strength and love of our Lord.

When we fully cling to the grace of God - complete healing and real growth can occur.  ... IF we let it!

That might mean we have to forgive someone - even when faced with the death of a loved one. But -then again - that might mean that we need to forgive ourselves and move on.

What Gives?

Galatians 5:13 -- You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the sinful nature; rather, serve one another in love."

image: baudville.com

Picking up the thin paper shader tool that came with my sketch pencils I blurred lines, created shadows, and put a little dimension into the adult human hand clasped tightly by a baby's little round fingers. The black and white image was definitely starting to show some promise. I smiled to myself as I thought of the cousin for whom this was going to be a gift. I had yet to meet her new addition to our Saunders clan - but I couldn't wait to lay eyes on her new baby.

Signing the bottom right hand corner with my customary ksd, I was interrupted by one of our cats, Djibouti, as she pounced up onto the desk to "help" me with the finishing touches. Oh, she's quite the little "helper", that one. She helps me write the blog, she helps me fold the laundry, she helps me brush my teeth .... I've become accustomed to her frequent interruptions. Usually all it takes is a little "corporal hugging" and she's off and on her way - leaving me to finish my task undisturbed while I pick some of her long, silky hair off of my lips.

When little miss prissy pants jumped back down to the floor, however, I was left with a big, juicy red smear from one corner of my sketch to the other - and a very recently deceased tree frog.

Ick!

Now, I know this is an expression of love from a cat - and I suppose I appreciated the sentiments of the gift - but I was rather unhappy that a couple hours worth of work had just been flushed down the proverbial toilet.

...and, I kinda felt bad for the poor frog.

Ya know - nearly every species of living thing on this planet has a way of gift-giving. It's a wonderful thing, really. Cats, for example - gift their kills to their human companions. An extraordinary thing when you think about it, because the animal is willingly giving up a something that might mean the difference between life and starving to death. Some birds present colorful little bits and bobbles to their mates when they are nesting to show their eagerness and ability to provide for spouse and future family. Dogs? Well, every wonderful lick of the tongue or wag of the tail is really a great gift, isn't it? And - even some bugs indulge in ceremonies that indicate intent - and what could only be interpreted as desire.

In the gift department - the act of giving itself doesn't set us apart from much of nature. What DOES set us apart, though? -- a human being will give even when he/she is struggling personally. Most creatures in nature will not be generous if they are not doing well for themselves. A cat will really only gift a kill if it's well fed and doesn't have to rely on the carcass for food.

You and I, though - WE give - even when we are hurting.

I know a woman that provided home-cooked meals for a friend that had been dealing with some serious health issues - even though she'd just experienced the death of a parent. I have a wonderful friend that will go out of her way to give me words of encouragement - even though she's going through a heartache in her own family. And I know countless individuals who will give of their time - even though it's a precious and rare thing for them to have any of it to themselves.

Jesus? -- now HE really gave, didn't he? He gave his own life for all of us - even though it meant being physically separated from his Father. And - along with the excruciating pain of being crucified, Jesus had to deal with the agony of betrayal by those that were supposed to be his friends! Not to mention the fact that his own people [NOT the Romans] were the ones ensuring that the death penalty was swiftly executed.

THAT's harsh, my friends.

With the gift of Jesus' life in exchange for our own - we were given freedom. We have the freedom to be apart from sin and the freedom to one day meet Jesus and our very Creator face to face!

THAT is a beautiful, beautiful gift! AND - it's the one gift we've been given that is perfectly acceptable - nay, ENCOURAGED - to re-gift! In fact, it grows as we continue to share this gift with others.

So what shall we do with this extraordinary gift that we've been given? Do we use it?  ...like full diplomatic immunity?

No. That is - we SHOULDN'T. Instead we should take this amazing and truly beautiful, freely given gift - and freely gift others.

As a nation given the most freedom of any group of people on earth we get all excited and revved up when it comes to sharing freedom with other countries. As individuals freely saved by Jesus - we should do the same thing.

Freely give. 

A Little Anthropology

Hebrews 10:24 -- "And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds."

image: izquotes.com

A few butterflies let loose in my stomach when the school bell rang as excitement churned its way through my system. One of the advantages of being a Senior at Faith Academy was that most of the typical mandatory academic classes were already under my belt, and I was aloud to choose some less mundane courses to wrap up my grade-school career. The class coming up was one of my favorites - Anthropology.

One might think that what was considered to be a college level class would be a little intimidating to a high school student - but in fact, I made some of the highest grades I've ever received in that class. I couldn't get enough of it. There is just no end to the fascination I feel when studying human behavior and the vast number of intriguing cultures.

In the mid to late 1950's one of the most famous of anthropologists, Margaret Mead, was approached by one of her students with this question: What do you consider to be the first sign of civilization in any culture? Her answer surprised many - she said: A human femur that has been broken and then healed.

Really? I would be looking for simple tools, pottery, perhaps art work or toiletries. But no, Margaret Mead said she felt it was the human thigh bone.

Why on earth would she think that?

Margaret went on to explain that in the animal kingdom - if you break your leg, you die. It's that simple. A healed human femur indicates that the injury was cared for and looked after for a lengthy amount of time. This meant that the person with the broken leg had a community. He/she had friends or family that were willing to slow down long enough to care for the sick. That meant keeping the injured person immobile, setting the broken bone well enough that it could heal, and then making sure the invalid had food, shelter, and warmth. To Margaret's way of thinking - helping someone else through difficulty is where civilization starts.

THAT makes sense!

Hebrews 10:24 asks us to consider HOW we can spur each other on. Does that mean we should ask ourselves what we can do to help our injured or sick? Does it mean encouraging a friend who's hit a rough spot in his/her life? Does it mean doing all we can to encourage growth and strength in our fellow human being?

I think it means all of those things. AND - I think that whatever we can do to instill healing and growth in another - no matter how small our action might seem - has a far reaching impact. Like Margaret Mead's healed broken femur findings ... you can tell a lot about a person/culture by its community spirit.

What will future anthropologists find about our civilization/culture? Do we spur one another on toward love and good deeds? Do we love? Do we heal? Do we help?

I hope that there is evidence of these things in me -- it would mean that my actions reflect the love and grace of Jesus Christ. What better thing could be said of any culture?

The Fallen

Psalm 34:18 -- "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

image: corbisimages.com

The tread on the old bike tires gripped the sidewalk that framed our house as I pumped my little legs as fast as they would go. In sheer excitement and with a grin from ear to ear, I prepared to round the corner behind the back porch. Only a couple of days ago I was unable to ride without Dad's hand on the back of my seat. But on this day - I was a pro! Can you believe it?!

Just as I turned the handlebars to the right and edged myself carefully around the dip in the walk-way - my front tire hit a large gravel rock. In the blink of an eye, the bike slid out from underneath me and I found myself somehow hitting the concrete - right knee first. The air went out of me in a big whoosh and the tears started to cascade.

I was more angry than hurt. Things had been going so well! Life was good! ...until that stupid rock appeared from out of nowhere and messed up my balance. [stupid, stupid rock!]

Getting up off the ground I noticed the blood trickle down my knee and I started to really steam about the situation. I picked the bike up and searched it for scratches [well, any new ones] and walked it around to the front of the house where Dad stood waiting for me.

"What happened to you?" He asked, looking down at my knee.

"Satan made me fall down when I hit a rock". I said vehemently - the anger pouring out of every syllable.

Dad took the bike and parked it up against the front porch, then picked me up and placed me on the large stone banister. "No honey, Satan didn't make you fall. Sometimes bad things just happen and there isn't anyone or anything to blame for them."

Wait ... what? How could that be?

Dad gently cleaned up my knee and put a bandage on it - all the while explaining how things aren't perfect for man anymore because of free will and sin. It was tough news to receive - to be sure - but Dad softly and tenderly doctored both my knee and my crushed spirit. He let me sit on his lap while he rocked me back and forth a bit - giving me comfort and encouragement. And then - he did something that surprised me. He told me to go back out front, pick up my bike, and do one more lap around the house.

But I didn't want to do another lap. I didn't care if I ever got back on the bike.

"Nope..." Dad said, gently but firmly "you can't give up on yourself - let's go do one more lap and then you can come in for a snack."

He followed me out the door and back to the front porch where my bike lay leaning against the banister. He then helped get on and gave me a little push to get me going.

Of course - after I realized I could make the rounds without falling again I put in more that just one lap and recovered the joy I thought I'd lost in riding. Something Daddy knew would happen - hence his instruction for me to get out there and try again.

Let's face it - our lives are not perfect. Sometimes things can be going along at a pretty good clip when from out of nowhere, we're hit with a rock in our path and we're sent skittering off track. We've no choice but to stop and deal with the fall. We experience pain. We experience sadness. Sometimes the hurt feels so deep that we can't imagine a moment in our lives when we won't be acutely aware of the loss. We just can't picture the sun popping out from behind dark clouds - ever again.

It feels safer to stay inside - curled up with a soft blanket pulled up over our heads - away from people and more pain.

Sometimes - we don't want to get back on the bike.

I love Psalm 34:18 for this - because we see that the Lord draws near to those who are hurting. Like my Dad did all those years ago - our Father comforts. He doesn't have to. I mean, He's up in Heaven where there is no pain, no falling, no anger, and no sadness. He could just stay there -- but Psalm very clearly says that He draws near to us. And think about this: God - more than anyOne - knows how dark real pain can truly get, yet He chooses to draw near to us when we experience it.

That's pretty amazing!

AND - He doesn't just stop there. The verse also says that the Lord saves those who are crushed in spirit. He doesn't end His focus on us after the bandage and ointment have been applied - He stays close and grants encouragement. Much like my Dad getting me to go back out there and bike one more lap - our Father guides us back out on the pathway. He won't let us get away with giving up. There are things He has planned for us and He knows that when He's by our side, and we let Him lead - we'll recover the joy in life that He's meant for us to have.

What greater love and grace is there?

Father, God - thank you so much for loving me so very deeply that you draw near to me when I am at my worst. Thank you for encouraging me to get back on the bike and for saving me when my spirit is crushed.