I had a few minutes before work one morning, so I brought a book with me to a small coffee shop near campus. I had graduated a few years before, but I hadn’t found a place I liked better yet. As it turned out, I didn’t read much of my book that morning as I lazy sipped my extra hot chai tea. A couple of students sat nearby, close enough for me to hear every word they spoke but not so close that they noticed my listening. They talked about this boring town and their big plans after graduation, their words dripping with a strange blend of passion and apathy unique to students with heads full of knowledge but not a lot of living to test it out on.

I smiled to myself as I considered how their conversation would have affected me in the past. There was a time when I would have arrogantly thought I knew exactly what they were looking for, back when I knew everything and had it all together. That was during my early days of college, my days of Christian-upity-ism and self-righteous rightness. I pretty much thought what everyone wanted was what I had, they just didn’t know it yet.

I think grace says something different, says I know you’re looking for something, but I don’t know what shape it will take for you. Do I believe God is the one who ultimately satisfies our needs for love, worth, acceptance, and security? Yes. Do I believe that looks the same for everyone? Absolutely not. Does that mean I think there are many ways to God? No, I think Jesus meant it when he said he was the way. But do I think Jesus shows himself to different people in different ways over and over again because he is a personal God and he knows what we need before we need it? Yes, I do believe that.

Not-grace is afraid of Jesus showing up uniquely for people, of Jesus showing up in ways that may not make sense to everyone. Not-grace shuts eyes tight to the differences, afraid that God isn’t big enough to handle the questioning. Grace allows for an unchangeable God do make change in people the way he does it, and not the way I think it ought to be done. Grace embraces the mystery of God, and accepts that I don’t know everything. And often times, he chooses to move and speak in ways that aren’t ‘Christian’ at all.

“I came to a peace with myself that working for God’s glory doesn’t necessarily mean singing worship songs. I think God puts things on your heart, and there’s times in your life – what you’re going through – and that’s what you sing about. Things that are worthy of praise. Things like love and such. I just wanna write some good music.”

- Jason Castro, Jesus believer and 3rd place finalist on American Idol Season 7, as quoted on I Am Second

The reason it’s so hard when they fight in the morning over socks and Cheerios, when he doesn’t notice all the things you have done that day, when she speaks without thinking and overlooks your feelings, when the telemarketer calls eventhough you’re off the list – the reason it’s so hard to extend the gracious hand is perhaps because you have refused the hand extended toward you. It is never more difficult to show grace than when I refuse to receive it.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to Me. Get away with Me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

- grace words spoken by Jesus, as recorded in Matthew 11:28-30, MSG

It is their first year of gymnastics and the learning is fast. I watch from the parent observation deck and listen to the sounds of trampoline springs and watch coaches effortlessly present technique to copy. The girls jump up on the balance beam with arms stretched out wide. I watch their faces concentrate, their bodies lean and toddle and center again. They walk timid on four inches across. The balance takes effort and focus and drive.

I used to think this Jesus walk was a lot like this balancing – receive the grace over here, but be sure to measure up over here. I need help with this stuff, but this stuff I can handle on my own, thanks-but-no-thanks. But the more I try to do it that way, the more tired I become. Balance implies I have control. Balance implies inhibition. The whole goal of balance is to keep you from falling. But perhaps falling is the very thing we need. There is only grace, all grace. There is no Be careful not to get carried away with too much grace.

Too much? Really? Carried away is exactly what we need. I am finished with running around and trying to earn it or be worthy. Instead of arms outstretched to prevent the fall, I am open hands and needy heart and willing. I am not getting carried away. I am being carried away by this grace that is lavished and given for free, over and over, to this girl who doesn’t deserve.

Contrary to what some may say, that doesn’t lead me to apathy or license to do whatever thing I want because I can (though there is grace for that, too). Instead, true understanding of this favor leads me to my knees, to dependence, to humility, to arms raised up in thankfulness and head bowed down in peace.

How do you feel about this issue of balance when it comes to grace? Are you timid to be carried away by it?

I would love to list out how I finally learned to receive this grace, but I can’t for three reasons. One, I’m still learning. I think if we were all aware of the magnitude of this available grace, we would buckle at the knees, overwhelmed and undone. Two, I already fear that my small stories have too much boxing in. I fear this lavish grace may lose a little flavor in the explanation of it, as words can’t possibly describe the goodness of it all. But even more than that, and a bit more personal, I sometimes wish my stories were more dramatic and interesting, but they never seem to work out that way. I tend to have a pocketful of vanilla jelly beans to share rather than an elaborate, colorful, everlasting gobstopper.

So while some people have come to a deeper understanding of grace because of some big thing, some hard thing, some particularly interesting story of failure and redemption, or great heartache and forgiveness, that is not the way of my story. This grace awakening has happened slow, over time, less like a firework and more like a seed. Some of it came through understanding what it really meant when I was 7 and said Come, Lord Jesus. There are deep, theological truths that I have studied and discovered that have helped me see the logic of this freedom.

But there are other things too, things of the heart, things of life, and things of daily trouble that have brought about the testing out of this discovery. Is it true, what He says about Himself, even though this and this and this has happened? And the answer, for me, has always been yes. It is still true, even though.

When The Man and I began dating, we learned of grace the same way babies learn to walk: weak-kneed, wobbly, and constant falling down. Mainly, we practiced not-grace, and we lived with that for a while. It didn’t feel good. We worked through unforgiveness, through hurt, through unmet expectation. And in living with the not-grace, we realized that grace-living feels much better. We clumsied our way through moving toward one another rather than away, through extending forgiveness rather than holding on to the grudge, through listening rather than blaming.

After nearly 10 years of marriage, we still practice. Everyday, we practice. He is much better at this than I am, so much so that I sometimes wonder how he can be such a grown up while I continue to be a kid. I tend to hold on with a much tighter grip than he does.

But I’m learning. And the learning isn’t a teeth-gritting, white-knuckled kind of learning. It is perhaps the opposite kind of learning from what we are used to in this world. It is an upside-down learning. Rather than trying harder, grace is learned best when we begin to trust, to really believe God when he says this grace life is not your own doing, it is my gift to you. It is in carving out time for quiet, in finding time to sit with open hands to receive the daily graces extended towards me from heaven. That is where the learning begins. And it continues at the dinner table and at the bathroom sink and in the car when we’re running late. We rub shoulders with grace and each other everyday, we just don’t always see it that way.

There has been a shift in my view of God, of myself, of the people around me. As I receive grace given, I am better able to see. Even better and harder to believe? Grace sees me.

We have 18 days left in October, and in them I plan to share a bit more of how this invasion of grace has changed things as it relates to parenting, marriage, friendships, and other living life stuff. But for now, I’m growing weary of hearing my own voice. Seriously, have I ever written a post this long?

So tell us: How has this grace invasion changed things for you? And I mean really, on an everyday level? Or maybe it hasn’t? Or maybe you want it to, but you aren’t sure how to get there? I would love to hear from you in the comments and I’m doing my best to be present there to chat with you today. So glad you’re here.

Don’t forget to visit the other blogs hosting 31 Days Series: Nesting Place, Balancing Beauty and Bedlam, My First Kitchen, Life With My 3 Boybarians, Reluctant Entertainer, The Inspired Room, Remodeling This Life.

When I decided to write for 31 days about grace, I wasn’t sure what was gonna come out. I know my own story, how grace is a game-changer, how understanding this undeserved favor makes everything different. But I wasn’t sure how to communicate that in 31 short spurts over a month. When I start talking about grace in real life, people have one of three responses: they get it, they don’t get it, or they think I’m a little bit crazy. Which might actually be a little bit true.

I lived the first half of my Jesus walk in an un-free way. I had rules, and lots of them. I was afraid of doing the wrong thing, of getting into trouble, or even of the appearance of it. Nearly every decision I made came through a filter of fear, and I was good for all the wrong reasons. I could go on and on here, but I wrote an entire book about it (coming out next fall!) so I wouldn’t know where to stop.

Grace took me by surprise. I had just finished my sophomore year at Bible College, but was preparing to transfer to another school. I stayed in South Carolina that summer, squeezing out a few more months with friends before I had to move. It was a humid, sunny day when I sat in the living room of the old duplex I was subletting, my feet bare on the hardwood that never seemed clean no matter how much I swept it. I had my Bible in my lap, the one with my maiden named cursived in gold lettering on the green leather cover, and I read a verse with the word grace in it. I don’t remember which one.

All I know is, the verse troubled me. Because as a girl of 20, I felt like I knew a fair amount about holy, about rules, about discipline, about faithful, but I didn’t really know about grace. I had heard it was Amazing, at least that’s what the song said. I knew I believed in it, I knew it was something good. But for me that day, something was missing.

I watched as those five letters seemed to float up off the page, demanding my attention. GRACE. Being a good Bible College student, I looked up the word, what it meant, where it came from, the context, the background. With furrowed brow and unsettled heart, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I knew that grace existed, don’t we all know that? Maybe. I don’t know. Maybe not.

As it turns out, understanding grace doesn’t come from study. It comes from need, and I’m talking more than just a need to know. Even so, I began to study this thing called grace. I read about it. I listened to sermons on tape about it. I prayed about it. I took classes about it. For the next several years, this concept of unmerited favor came up again and again. I didn’t know at the time how trying to learn about grace would be like trying to straw-sip the ocean.

Still, this grace-quest continued. And when I met the man who is now my husband, we began to journey together to discover what was so amazing about grace?

Sometimes each breath feels such a gift that I can hardly take it in. When setting the table takes me back twenty five years to playing house with plastic and mud and imagining my someday. When grinding pepper into the marinade brings simple delight and the kids outside laugh and run with bare feet and happy. When I realize I’m living the life I always wanted to live. Those times, inhaling the gift of this very life brings even more life.

And there are those other times when the family member calls with shaky voice and says it’s cancer and you want to both reach through the phone with comfort arms and sink under the table at the same time. And you look at those dishes you set the table with just last night and they just look like dishes. And you can’t remember the recipe to the marinade. And the kids are screaming in the backyard and you want to yell, Don’t you know about cancer? If you knew, you would behave! But you don’t yell that, because the fact is, you are so grateful they don’t know about cancer. And you want to protect the innocence of their somedays for as long as you can.

Grace is the arm that extends the gifts of the ordinary, and the same arm that holds you tight when you hear the news. This grace gift is undeserved and extravagant. And you realize that cancer and ground pepper and bare feet are all a part of this mosaic life. It wasn’t meant to be this way but it is, and we live it, every breathe we get. Because of grace.