There they were in black and white, those words I've never dared to utter: I wasn't sure I wanted this. Those are the words I trip over and walk around and try to ignore, but there they have laid for years right in plain view. They have held me back in this storytelling because "this" really meant them.
Before I had any clue of what was about to happen to my neat, safe world, I had said "no" to these two gifts, put a job and paying off debt above them. At least in my heart. And my heart, it twisted a little that day.
Or... maybe I just finally saw the deformity that was there all along. We often live under the delusion that we shape and fashion our idols, hammering them out into lovely, presentable things. But, with every strike of the hammer on the heart's anvil, we are twisted and molded into their image, dumb, deaf, and blind, unable to see Grace falling into our laps.
And this was one of those moments of Grace falling. I, the good girl, had fallen hard into the full knowledge of my own need, my own sinfulness. My eyes were opened to the truth that I was the wicked hag in Grace's audacious story, but, even more, Grace had fallen before me in such a way that I could not help but see more than myself in the story. Never had I been so in love with the beauty before me, the Savior, my Savior.
Read on here