My Name

I’ve always known my name was Grace Kathryn for a reason. You don’t just show up on earth with a name that means “pure grace” for nothing. I’ve been asking God more and more how I can live that out in a way that makes a difference in the lives of others, and so, God has been answering. Unfortunately (and fortunately) the first part of any answer he gives me always knocks me flat on my face, humbled before Him. It’s not fun facing up to my own failures and shortcomings, but it’s necessary, and by far for my greater good.

So, he shattered my selfish mirror called “pride” to pieces to bring my focus to the truth:

His. Grace. Is. Everything.

I am not saved, I am not preferred, I am not “liked” by God because of anything, ANYTHING, that I do. He doesn’t think I’m a whiter shade of white because of anything I have or haven’t done. It’s never been about what I can keep together, what I can do, or what I haven’t done – because you know what? My BEST attempts at righteousness are worth NOTHING in the eyes of God. They’re like used tampons, they’re so disgusting. (Sorry to be graphic, but that’s literally what the Bible says – just look up the historical context of “filthy rags.”) I literally thought there were certain parts of my life where I wasn’t really THAT dirty, because you know…we all have those lists of things that “other” people do, that we don’t do, which somehow makes us easier to forgive. But sitting around in the Body of Christ (the church) comparing what I’ve done with what you’ve done and what I haven’t done with what you haven’t done is POINTLESS, because NONE of it matters. That’s right. NONE of it. Satan would like to keep us busy playing this little comparison game in our heads because it keeps us focused on how good we think we are, not how good God is. Do our actions point to how we’re growing in Christ? Of course, but they aren’t the basis upon which we receive grace. His grace bought me when I was still dead in my sin – and his grace hasn’t changed. It’s the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow because HE doesn’t change.

*sigh* I’ve said all that, and I still don’t think my words can even begin to grasp at what I’m starting to realize about his grace. Words are so feeble. The best image I can think of is something David Crowder has already said that is starting to sink into my soul: “If grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking.”

Having said (or tried to say) all of that, let me move on to the second thing God started to show me about grace. I was talking last week with one of my good friends who has known me since freshman year of college, and we were discussing the incredible work God is continuing to do in his life (and in mine) since then. He reminded me that in the Old Testament, an extremely symbolic book, the hyssop plant is used to represent God’s grace. The children of Israel brushed the blood over their doorposts with hyssop plants for the angel of death to pass over their homes: grace was the means by which his blood spared His children. The burning bush in the desert? It was a hyssop plant. God’s grace was literally ON FIRE so that God could get Moses’ attention and speak to him while he was running away from a murder scene where he WAS the murderer!

So where do you think my mind went next? Well, of course. I must hyssop plant—a burning bush! (Think of the passages about being the light of the world, being a fragrant aroma, bringing healing…) I want to be a conduit for that bright, fragrant, healing power of grace to reach people in this world.

My mother loves to sing the words of that wonderful childrens’ song, “I just wanna be a sheep, baa baa baa baa!” Well, I wanna be a hyssop plant! I want to be Grace.