What is Grace—I just keep having to ask

I have had to experience so much stupidity,
so many vices, so much error, so much nausea, disillusionment and sorrow,
just in order to become a child again and begin anew.
I had to experience despair, I had to sink to the greatest mental depths,
to thoughts of suicide, in order to experience grace.”
Hermann Hesse

“Extraordinary afflictions are not always the punishment of
extraordinary sins, but sometimes the trial of extraordinary graces.”
Matthew Henry

(a tiny bloom of a strawberry to be / Julie Cook /2015)

****Even though this is actually a post that I wrote 6 years ago,
the notion of Grace has never been far from my thoughts.
For you see, I am very much a product of Grace.

Over and over, or so it seems.

Merriam Webster defines grace as:
a:unmerited divine assistance given to humans for their regeneration or sanctification
b: a virtue coming from God
c: a state of sanctification enjoyed through divine assistance

And so here’s the thing about this “unmerited Divine assistance”-
it is a gift that is freely given.

It is neither earned nor bought.
And it pricks the most tender part of one’s soul.

It pricks the hard steely, yet false, façade and bravado we call self.

It breaks down the walls and the hardened heart while it fills
a sea of endless wounds.

A flood washes over us and we find ourselves terrified of letting
go and letting Grace transform us.

So why is it so hard to receive something so welcoming and healing?
The answer is beyond my soul—it is not something I can logically comprehend…
and maybe that’s the thing.

Grace is not logical.

Grace brings us to our knees…because we know we have not earned this
gift called Grace.
Quite the contrary.
We have done everything in our power to shun it and even repel it.
We bristle at such tender warmth while being too cold,
too hard, too lost to see the simple Truth.

For me it’s seems to have come in phases–
throughout this thing I call life.

Maybe it’s just a matter of me needing to be reminded…
reminded that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as accepting
of the initial gift as I needed to be….
For I still have kept a deep part of my wounds hidden.

Too ashamed, too hardened, too wounded to think
Grace would or could ever make me truly whole.

I’ve recently been reminded of this most tenderest of gifts.
It’s broken my heart…broken my façade..
and that’s just what Grace does…
it breaks us and then it heals us and then it makes us whole.

And thus we are each the better for Grace…

And so I want to thank my dearest of friends who recently offered me Grace…
Grace coupled by her own graciousness.
A gracious heart…reaching to a wounded heart.
It is a gift she has freely given me—
a freely given gift that was not nor ever has been deserved nor earned,
yet one that was freely and lovingly given…no strings, no penalties.
And it is within this most generous gift that I have been poignantly reminded me
that God is not yet finished with me and that He continues to want
me make me whole.
Love can and does heal a multiple of sin…

and now the post from 2015–

Do you know Grace?
Have you seen it out and about?
During your comings and your goings?
Have you ever been properly or formerly introduced?

I truly much doubt so…
As Grace is often quiet and demure.
It prefers to go rather unnoticed until it is called upon…
More shy than bold.
It is neither garish or loud.
Nor is it boisterous or showy.

What exactly is Grace you ask…

Grace is the second chance when all other chances have been used up.
Grace is the peace in the midst of the fierce raging storm.
Grace is acceptance when the world screams rejection.
Grace is forgiveness when the act has been intolerable.
Grace is hope when none had been previously offered.
Grace is mercy when judgement should be called for…
Grace is life when one actually deserves death…

It should be noted that Grace is not cheap.
For it cannot be bought nor sold.
It can not be bartered over or traded.
It cannot be taken or stolen…
For it is actually free—free to both you and me.

Yet this free Grace was once actually rather costly.
For that which is free today to both you and me, once cost God a great deal.

Think of this question…
Would you ever hand over your child…
Your only child, to be brutally tortured and murdered before your very eyes…
Just to be able to offer someone else their freedom?
I would think not.
Yet that is exactly what happened.

A price paid for the healing power of Grace.
A tremendous price that cost God so very much–
Yet it was a price He willingly paid out of a tremendous love for both you and me. . .
and it is because of that very Grace that I am here, writing you today…

“Cheap grace means grace sold on the market like cheapjacks’ wares.
The sacraments, the forgiveness of sin,
and the consolations of religion are thrown away at cut prices.
Grace is represented as the Church’s inexhaustible treasury,
from which she showers blessings with generous hands,
without asking questions or fixing limits.
Grace without price; grace without cost!
The essence of grace, we suppose, is that the account has been paid
in advance; and, because it has been paid, everything can be had for nothing.
Since the cost was infinite, the possibilities of using and spending
it are infinite.
What would grace be if it were not cheap?…

Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance,
baptism without church discipline,
Communion without confession, absolution without personal confession.
Cheap grace is grace without discipleship,
grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ,
living and incarnate.

Costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field;
for the sake of it a man will go and sell all that he has.
It is the pearl of great price to buy which the merchant will sell all his goods.
It is the kingly rule of Christ,
for whose sake a man will pluck out the eye which causes him to stumble;
it is the call of Jesus Christ at which the disciple leaves
his nets and follows him.

Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again,
the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock.

Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow,
and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ.
It is costly because it costs a man his life,
and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life.
It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner.
Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son:
“ye were bought at a price,” and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us.
Above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear
a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us.
Costly grace is the Incarnation of God.”
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship

the love of a mother

“Only a Woman, divine, could know all that a woman can suffer.”
Willa Cather

(hand carved wooden figure of Mary / carved in France / Julie Cook / 2014)

Have you ever loved someone so much that you’d do anything for them?
I mean anything.
You’d cut your arm off for them.
You’d stand in front of a speeding train for them.
You’d lay your life down just to move Heaven and Earth, all for them.
If they were facing some sort of challenge or difficulty, you’d trade places with them without blinking.
You’d take the pain,
the suffering,
the anguish. . .
Whatever it is, you’d take it and take it willingly and gladly, just to spare this loved one the pain, the suffering the anguish. . .
all because you love this person just that much. . .

If you are a mother, a mom, a mommy, a mum then you totally “get it”—you understand those questions and statements.
For those hard questions with the impossible answers are what constitutes the love of a mother.
Doesn’t matter if your child is 6 or 26, if they hurt, you hurt.
If your child is going through difficulties, challenges, hardships. . .
you’d take each and every one of those difficulties, challenges and hardships just to spare your child—
Because that’s the heart of a mother.

As my own heart currently heaves heavily for my own child–
As I pound the gates of Heaven as hard as I can–
As I scream out to the void of stillness–
As my frustration and anger is all so bitterly palpable–
As I assail the God of all Creation. . .
. . .because that’s what a mother does for her child—she sees, she watches, she hopes, she cries, she suffers, she wishes, she dreams, she hugs, she consoles, she remains outwardly positive—
And all the while, she prays.
She prays day and night.
She prays without ceasing and riles at the maddening silence from above.
She badgers and harangues the God of the Universe as if He’s merely not paying attention. . .
As if He has no idea of what was going on.
As if He doesn’t actually love this child any more than the mother.
What?
Loves him more than I. . . ???

Try telling any mother that someone else loves her child any more then she. . .
For that’s how mothers are—they are tenacious, defensive, voracious, strong. . .and yes, they would move Heaven and Earth for their child. . .yet on those occasions when they can’t move the Heavens, they can’t make things right, they can’t kiss it and make it all better, they can’t stand in as substitute. . .a heart silently breaks.
I don’t think anyone can ever fully grasp the pain of a mother’s heart.

And as it is on just such an occasion, as my own heart currently breaks–as in it is breaking now— as my own frustration is enough to break me, as my voice is raw and hoarse from my shouting to the God of both Heaven and Earth, and as my eyes are swollen from the shedding of countless tears, my thoughts race across time to another Mother who most assuredly understands my frustration, my pain, my sorrow for my child, for she suffered grievously for her child long before my own heartache began. . .and there is solace in a shared pain.

Then Simeon blessed them and said to Mary, his mother: “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”
Luke 2:34-35

And a sword will pierce her soul. . .

This is the time of year when we find our thoughts turning to the story of a young timid woman, along with her equally young husband, seeking shelter during a long and arduous journey as the time arrives for the birth of their first child. . .
Yet it is to this same woman, who 33 years later, witnesses the brutal betrayal, beating and ultimate public execution and murder of her son—It is to this very public story of the very private agony of a Mother’s heart which draws me inward and touches my own heart in a deeply profound manner.

And so it is. . .and so it goes. . .
a pierced soul will continue to assail the Heavens, as the tears continue to flow, as the prayers continue be spoken without ceasing. . .
As the heart of a mother continues to be battered and bruised for the love of a child.

Hear me, O Lord, for Your lovingkindness is good;
Turn to me according to the multitude of Your tender mercies.
And do not hide Your face from Your servant,
For I am in trouble;
Hear me speedily.
Draw near to my soul, and redeem it;
Deliver me because of my enemies.
Psalm 69:16-18