Embracing the Gift of Grace: Taking the Leap of Faith Into Freedom
I can’t believe it’s been a decade.
On May 25, 2014, I committed my life to Jesus through baptism.
Over the last ten years, I have learned so much. And, one thing I am certain of is that the girl in this photo had no idea how her life would change. At fifteen, I loved Jesus. I wanted to surrender my life to Him. What I didn’t know was what that would mean, what it would cost, and what incredible gifts would come along the way.
My heart can’t help but ache for the girl in this photo. At fifteen, there was so much that she wanted so desperately. She wanted someone to see her—I mean really see her heart. She wanted deep and rich friendships—ones that went beyond the walls of school or the gym. And most of all, she wanted to be loved—in a way that no one ever had, she wanted to be chosen.
At her core, she wanted what Jesus was offering. But she didn’t know how to accept His most precious and gracious gift, even after May 25th.
I often share that I stayed in church because I wanted to prove myself. When I was in the fifth grade, my family started going to church again. We had gone on and off for years but never regularly attended. Then, one Sunday, my mom and I tried the church near our house, and from then on, we were at the church anytime the doors were open.
Once I entered the sixth grade, I started going to youth group on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings. Like most youth groups, we were sifted and sorted by grade and gender, so there I found myself on Wednesday nights crowded into the classroom we used for small group surrounded by lots of middle school girls. I was so excited. I didn’t know much about God or the Bible, but I knew I wanted to be part of something. I wanted to be part of this group. And I desperately wanted to fit in.
On Sunday mornings, we would all meet for class at the early service, and from my small group on Wednesday nights, there was a smaller group of girls in my grade whose families had attended the church forever. Many of their parents served or were on staff. This little group was the very best of friends. There were many Sundays they would all show up together after a sleepover, or they would be giggling about their adventures over the weekend. I wanted to be one of them so badly. I wanted to be included. And this is where the shame would sneak in.
“You could never be one of them.”
“You ask dumb questions.”
“You haven’t gone to church that long.”
“You don’t know enough.”
“Your family isn’t involved.”
“You aren’t good enough.”
As these faults and fears settled, I decided I would not succumb to them. I would fight them instead. From that moment, I decided that I would prove to them that I was good enough to be their friend. And off I went. I rarely missed a Sunday or Wednesday. I poured over the Word. I was on my very best goody-too-shoes behavior at all times. I strived and chased after this standard of “perfection” that I, somewhere along the way, told myself was the magic bullet, the key to earning my place in their friend group.
What is so wild and beautiful is that even though I wasn’t chasing Jesus, I found Him, or moreover, He found me along the way. As I ran after the false narrative that I had to earn my place in order to make friends at church, I picked up a bad habit along the way.
Before we go any further, I need to say I believe wholeheartedly that the girl in the picture above genuinely wanted to give her life to Jesus. She wanted the love that He offered. She wanted closeness with God. But what I rejected was His grace.
That bad habit I picked up, the idea that I needed to be “good enough” for God. I believed that I was loved, chosen, and forgiven, but only if I could keep a neat and tidy persona of a good and faithful Christian. I had this picture in my head that the God of Heaven and Earth, the Creator, Healer, and Redeemer, was also a list-keeper. I had this horribly incorrect theology that God was up in Heaven looking down at me from His throne and keeping tabs on all the ways I continued to mess up.
I wish I could tell you this was something only fifteen-year-old me believed. That after May 25th, I ditched the script and walked confidently in the freedom Jesus granted us. But I don’t want to lie to you. I also wish I could tell you there was a single moment that this burden fell away from me. I wish I could write an easy, simple list of things you can do to shake off the feeling that you aren’t worthy of His grace either because that is a lie, too.
Who is the most kind and gracious person you know? Someone quick to forgive. Someone who doesn’t hold onto the wrongs of the world. Someone who loves without hesitation.
Immediately, I think about my best friend, Adrienne. She is hands down my longest-standing friend. She knows everything about me; I trust her more than anyone in the world and would do anything to protect her.
For almost fifteen years, Adrienne has been my person. But those years haven’t always been easy or perfect. We’ve metaphorically butted heads, physically thrown elbows on the basketball court, and even had a screaming match. But through all that, she has chosen me, and I have chosen her. I can confidently say I am not always the easiest person to love, but through every season, Adrienne has extended grace, time and time again. She is truly one of the most grace-filled and gracious people I have ever known. And at every turn, she has pointed me to Jesus. What a gift she is in my life.
Having a friend like Adrienne was, and still is, one of the most tangible glimpses of the grace the Father offers to us. To have a friend who extends grace so freely is just a taste of the lavish grace Jesus has laid out for us. If my dear friend is only a fraction of the grace we are offered, it’s only now that I get to revel in the depth of how much more grace there is for me (and you, too).
If you’re like me, you may have heard this song and dance before. Maybe you grew up in church and constantly heard about God’s grace. Maybe you’ve lived your life far away from Jesus and aren’t totally sold on the truth of how much His grace really covers. And maybe you’re somewhere in between, hoping that the grace is there, but not sure if you fully believe it. I want to encourage you that no matter where you fall, Jesus is really there. He means what He says and is ready and willing to catch you.
For some people, the jump is the scariest part of the leap of faith. The free-fall terrifies them. The fear of “what happens if no one catches me?” For me, the scariest part isn’t the jump; it’s the landing. It’s once I’m face-to-face with Jesus that I’m, by nature, afraid that He is too good to be true. But the beauty of embracing the gift of grace is that when met by Jesus in every season, situation, doubt, or fear, His grace has been and continues to be enough.
Knowing Jesus changes everything.
Realizing that His blood really covers everything means that not only am I forgiven, but that I am free.
The freedom we get to walk in is truly unbelievable. There’s no reason for it. I’m unworthy of it. But the best part is that the inexplicable grace, freedom, and redemption aren’t about me at all. It’s about God and His ultimate glory.
“‘For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again. So from now on we regard no one from a worldly point of view. Though we once regarded Christ in this way, we do so no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God. God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.’”
In 2 Corinthians, Paul paints a beautiful picture—one where we are not only redeemed and set free but also sent out. As Christ’s ambassadors, we carry the spirit of reconciliation and, ultimately, freedom.
I don’t know about you, but sometimes, that feels really heavy. Being an ambassador for Jesus feels like too big a job for someone like me—someone who’s broken, falls short, and is sometimes hard to love. But as the shame tries to creep in, I’m met with the profound kindness of Jesus.
“‘But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.’”
As we go, we go with the confidence of the Cross. We carry a spirit of freedom. We get to wrap the people around us in the embrace of grace. And we get to receive it ourselves because He has declared us free because of the blood of Jesus.
Father, we come before you in awe. In awe of your character, your glory, your goodness. Jesus, we worship you. We praise you for what the Cross really means for us. Holy Spirit, we ask for your help. Help us accept this wildly beautiful gift of grace. Teach us the truth of our freedom. Equip us to go confidently so we may carry the spirit of reconciliation to those around us. Thank you, God.
Let our lives be all for Your glory, others' benefit, and our joy. Amen.