grace waits

At the moment temptation pulls us in, grace is there. Somehow we think we need to grit our teeth and try to withstand it. We need to prove we are worthy of grace. Grace just waits.

When we have sunk into the comfortable company of a familiar friend--that certain sin that keeps a warm seat for us--grace is there. Even while the rush of returning to our old companion is still fresh, that quiet call of grace can still be heard. But shame shouts louder. And grace just waits.

With enough time together, we remember why we had left our old friend earlier: he has drained our hearts and strip-mined our souls to the point where grace seems absurd. But grace is there.

We come to our senses and leave our sin the best we can. We journey back home as hollowed-out shells, rehearsing even hollower words about how we'll make it right. We hear the footsteps of grace walking beside us, ready to lift us in His arms and carry us home. But to stop and give in to grace seems too easy. Too cheap. We don't deserve it. So grace just waits.

We come to a table that's set just like we left it. We slide into the booth and order a cup of what we've got coming. Two large mugs are set before us. One is just what we expect - the self-poured cup of just deserts. The other is the cup that grace has poured for us. Before we can reach for the putrid cup of penance, the scarred hand of grace pushes his cup in front of us.

Grace waits for us to drink. But he doesn't wait long.

Before we have a chance to protest, he takes the repulsive crap-filled cup meant for us and drinks it. Then he lifts the cup of grace to our lips.

Grace waits for us to drink.