Personally Yours

Why is God's grace such a conflict in our lives? 

It’s easy for me to talk about God’s grace in the form of “God stories” —how He shows up big-time in the details in life. Situations beyond my control. It’s also easy to share God’s grace from hardships in the lives of others. Talking about someone else’s hardships doesn't cost me anything. But shining a light on God’s grace when it ruins my curbside appeal costs. Let’s face it, if the praise report has anything to do with revealing parts of me that are less than desirable, I’d rather not share, thank you very much. However, as I contemplate my past through the present, these places I’d like to keep hidden from the rest of the world are where God’s grace can be most beautifully displayed. 

Herein, lies the conflict. 

Do I share with the world, or even a smattering of individuals, my life blunders? Do I hide behind a mask of perfection for the sake of my appearance-driven-life? Shall I protect my curbside appeal in order to preserve my pride? Can I face-off with fear of being judged? Do I dare take the chances of accusation and rejection glaring down at me from a pedestal a little higher than my own? Would I be wise to draw attention to a naive childhood choice, making it the focal point for showing off God’s grace? Honestly, I can more easily talk about a situation that took place years ago than I can a fresh wounding in my soul. The old stories are great, but how about some “fresh produce”? 

The conflict of abandoning self-preservation in order to spread God’s overwhelming love or saving my pride to ensure a “sturdier” soapbox is a very real struggle. As I’ve taken baby steps to embrace discomfort, I’m beginning to realize that in my hiding, I end up crossing the ever-so-subtle line of relationship to religion. 

For example, I recently realized I was causing divisions in my marriage by keeping secrets from my husband. It wasn’t just one big thing; it was little things peppered throughout our marriage. For example, if I was struggling with the school over our boys or if Neil inadvertently said or did something that brought up old memories and hurt my feelings. I knew he didn’t mean to hurt my feelings, so why bother telling him about it? He has enough on his plate without having to worry about my precious feelings. I’ll work it out and move on. I’m protecting him, I thought.

During one of many stressful seasons in our marriage, I had a friend who unknowingly placed a wedge between Neil and me by advising me to not tell Neil everything. “Just tell him the victories,” she instructed. “He doesn’t need to know your struggles.” 

While helping to care for a sick neighbor; passing the baton of several ministries to others who’d carry them forward; meeting my publishing deadline for my first book; packing our house to relocate across country; transferring transcripts and IEPs (Individualized Education Plan) for special education to new schools in a location we’d never visited; and receiving a cancer diagnosis for our 14-year-old son five weeks prior to our relocation are only the tip of the iceberg in describing that difficult season. I struggled to keep up as the overload of life weighed heavier every day. The tension in my chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. 

Following my trusted friend’s advice, I put on a bit of a show for my husband as I tried to be strong and supportive for him. I indulged in self-preservation and did whatever it took to keep going and meet my deadlines and goals. Put on a good face. Make it work. Had I the bandwidth to unpack this line of thinking with my friend, I think we both would have come to the conclusion that this approach is divisive, not unifying. 

Later, as Neil and I had a chance to reflect over how we pulled up our bootstraps and “protected” each other (I found out he did the same thing in order to protect me), we encountered the harsh reality that we weren’t sheltering each other in keeping our little secrets, we were isolating and creating space between us. 

The result is this leaves us open for attack from succumbing to lies. It closes the door to opportunities to speak the truth over each other. It doesn’t allow for either of us to love and support each other through our struggles. It utterly steals the joy and ability to love and grow closer during difficult seasons. Swallowing my pride several times over and realizing just how much damage I created by isolating with my secret struggles gutted me to my core. So, out with it! All of it! No more secrets, putting on a good face, or maintaining an appearance for me —or for him! 

Personally, when it comes to sharing about my relationship with Christ, I have to talk about where I’ve desperately needed Jesus Christ. Scrap the curbside appeal. Trash the appearance-driven-life. Here’s my mess —where my soul’s deep-rooted needs and ravenous hunger meet His profound grace and unending love. 

Until it’s personal, it’s just religion —isn’t it?