(Our new book will land on Amazon in a couple of weeks so I thought I’d share one of the devotionals:)
The drive-thru barista knows my dirty little secret. Tinted windows befriend me because they shadow the cargo within my old ebony SUV. Only he witnesses the truth. But I wonder…what does he think? When he holds out my chai and waits as I scramble to empty a cup holder, does he judge? Does he mentally shake his head in disgust when he peers down and sees the crumpled lunch sack amidst the jumble of design supplies littering my floorboards and passenger seat?
In my mobile office lie the tools of my trade. Client folders, paint and fabric samples, and shopping bags of decor can pile from floor to ceiling. Each sack mountain towers like a stack of dominoes. One fast swing around a corner and it all comes tumbling out when I open the door carelessly.
I know where everything hides, or I at least have a vague idea, though I may have to dig deep, like a gold miner searching for buried treasure. I wish I could say the stacks all pertain to work, but I would be fudging the truth. Somehow, I amass sacks and coffee cups, mixed with a smattering of banana peels, apple cores, and granola bar wrappers. I think they multiply while I sleep. But at least the exterior stays freshly washed (keeping up appearances, ya know…).
And when I can stand the crud no longer, I empty the vehicle.
The gummy crevices are dug out with toothpicks, every nook and cranny vacuumed, and the dash Windexed until it shines. I smile at the sparkle and vow not to let the car slide into the same filthy state as before. But a few months of granola crumbs and sloshed beverages—and here we go again.
Only the Preacher and my closest friends know my secret. They don’t judge, at least not to my face. They love me regardless. But as the trash in the door pocket overflows, the Preacher gives me the look, signaling a good purging is overdue. Even his grace has a limit.
Like a grace period on TV commercials—“ninety days, same as cash”—the offer sounds so appealing and tempts us to buy something we can’t afford. But those ninety days soon evaporate, and the grace is over. Time to pay the loan in full or the interest payments begin.
Our God issues no payment plan, unlike a loan shark at the door, breathing down our necks, or a friend giving us the raised eyebrow. He gave us the greatest gift, His only Son to die on a lonely cross. For me, for you. He knows that we can never repay our debt to Him. He only wants us to accept the grace of sins wiped clean and live a free life for Him.
In our misguided quest for perfection, we beat ourselves up when we look at our shortcomings through the ever-judging eyes of the world. We miss the gift of grace if we don’t change our focus. We are beloved and cherished, no matter what our car, house, or life looks like to others. So let’s cut ourselves a little slack and give ourselves some grace; God does.
Secrets are not the boss of us. We are GRACED.
“But by the free gift of God’s grace all are put right with him through Christ Jesus, who sets them free.” Romans 3:24 GNT
Graceddevotional.com