beggar for grace

I find myself a beggar for grace—again and again, yet never more than now. The stench of my own Adamic nature clings close, yet I strike out hoping, praying, that 1 Corinthians 15 is coming true of me. In the gospel we stand, and in the gospel we are being saved. “As was the man of dust, so also are those who are of the dust, and as is the man of heaven, so also are those who are of heaven. Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the man of heaven.”

He came as the God-Man and took on the rags of a broken people that they might come to the end of themselves and find themselves inexplicably called out, set apart, possessed of eternal, saving grace.

We are determined in our very lost-ness, yet we serve a God who will not take our no. A God who is righteous enough to judge all men for cosmic treason yet merciful enough to stoop down in the dust and grime, to hunger as a mortal, and to bleed red blood from ripped, pulpy, throbbing flesh. This—this is a God who remakes all that has been wrong since the loss of our innocence.

I feel this love so keenly now, the sovereign determination of a King who demands my allegiance, my abandoned obedience, yet draws me tenderly and brings me out into a broad place—delivering me, delighting in me, causing all His good promises to come true no matter how untrue I prove myself to be every day.

He fills me to overflowing. In these days I often find myself out of my depth gasping for air, but underneath are the everlasting arms. This past Sunday I was reminded yet again of the way He sustains His people in this wilderness on the verge of the land we await. Here, on this side, we grasp a small sense of what awaits those who persevere. We walk in the doors of His house weary, parched, crying out for strength, for sustenance, desperately needing to feel the care of One who knows us to our core. And He does not disappoint. His living Word is preached, and His Spirit applies it to our hearts and minds. His body and blood are the manna of this, our wandering. We are fed with the bread of heaven.

Our Father is good beyond all knowing, and who are we that He has set His love on us from all eternity past? Here I find something far bigger than I. Something wild, glorious, incomprehensible to my small mind. I come to see that this creating, redeeming God is a Storyteller, and everywhere I turn are the twists and turns, the themes, elements, and characters of a metanarrative the half of which has not been told us on this shore.

One thing is certain—the King is coming. He gave us His Word, so we labor on in the fields alongside brothers and sisters. We sorrow over the effects of sin and death all around and inside us. We run with the sun and strain after faithfulness, after holiness—all in hope of hearing one day that sweet, sweet Well done!

We rise each day and ask in certain hope that His kingdom would come. We love, broken, we live learning how to die, and all the while we pray for the coming real of His will on this broken earth as it does in heaven, where our Great High Priest sits at the right hand of the Throne.

Ours is an inheritance which cannot fade, a kingdom which will never pass away. Yes, let us press on, and may we not lose hope.

“Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”

- Hebrews 4:14-16

“And we desire each one of you to show the same earnestness to have the full assurance of hope until the end, so that you may not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.”

- Hebrews 6:11-12

“For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come.”

– Hebrews 13:14