I don't like to admit it, but I am the kind of person who will pray for a parking space. (Hey, if you lived where I do, you'd do the same!) But it's in the small, silly things that God teaches me about grace.
On Saturday I bricked my phone. I unwittingly tossed it in the washing machine with a load of sheets, started another chore, then realized I hadn't heard any alerts in a while. It was with a great sinking feeling that I fished my soggy laundry out, reached into the murky water and drew out the phone, only a week old, but just as zombified as my previous one. In vain I tried to resurrect it.
Just like that, I was cut off (well, sort of), from civilization. I'm used to the insta-response world, especially for work.
I was furious. I hate even the threat of being ineffective; inefficient. Combine that with my deep resistance to spending money, and you've got my approximate attitude as I sat and seethed in church. C'mon, God! You know how hard I work! I don't deserve all this crap! I've been so prudent!
And once again, the ugly truth is that I made it all about me and my actions. Gross.
So by Sunday night I was resigned to buying a replacement, thinking it would either be a lesson or redeemed somehow.
The next morning I found out that I may be able to return the damaged phone for a refund. Start over. Grace. Redemption. I don't deserve it.
I see the concrete example of grace in the example of the waterlogged phone. I'm irreparably messed up, but God reached down and plucked me out of deep waters. He's tearing out the junked programming and rewriting my code. It's painful sometimes. I'm resistant to change my heart. But he's patient and won't stop until I'm mended and rebuilt better than before.
On Saturday I bricked my phone. I unwittingly tossed it in the washing machine with a load of sheets, started another chore, then realized I hadn't heard any alerts in a while. It was with a great sinking feeling that I fished my soggy laundry out, reached into the murky water and drew out the phone, only a week old, but just as zombified as my previous one. In vain I tried to resurrect it.
Just like that, I was cut off (well, sort of), from civilization. I'm used to the insta-response world, especially for work.
I was furious. I hate even the threat of being ineffective; inefficient. Combine that with my deep resistance to spending money, and you've got my approximate attitude as I sat and seethed in church. C'mon, God! You know how hard I work! I don't deserve all this crap! I've been so prudent!
And once again, the ugly truth is that I made it all about me and my actions. Gross.
So by Sunday night I was resigned to buying a replacement, thinking it would either be a lesson or redeemed somehow.
The next morning I found out that I may be able to return the damaged phone for a refund. Start over. Grace. Redemption. I don't deserve it.
I see the concrete example of grace in the example of the waterlogged phone. I'm irreparably messed up, but God reached down and plucked me out of deep waters. He's tearing out the junked programming and rewriting my code. It's painful sometimes. I'm resistant to change my heart. But he's patient and won't stop until I'm mended and rebuilt better than before.
