Justice, Mercy, and Grace

A few years ago, our preacher gave an incredible sermon, in which he gave the following definitions:

Justice is getting what you deserve.
Mercy is not getting what you deserve.
Grace is getting what you don't deserve.

I have not been having much success with my interpersonal relationships of late. In the past couple of weeks, I've tiffed with my best friend (this is so rare, it's noteworthy). I've hurt another friend's feelings by acting impulsively (though my intentions were good, they weren't well thought-out). Yet another person (in the cyberworld) stopped being my "friend", because I stood up to her about a REAL friend of mine. I seem to be having a hard time staying in-balance with those around me. It's incredibly frustrating.

Yet.

I'm working to view this challenging time as a learning opportunity.

It has been pointed out to me by many people that I could easily benefit by calming down. "CTFO" is my new personal motto (chill the f**k out). Friends have offered suggestions on how to measure situations against the grand scheme to see if things are worth getting upset over (usually, they're not).

It is my sincere hope and goal that I can learn to take more things in stride and be a calmer, more mellow person. I feel that if I can achieve that, then I will be a better friend. I will be able to think through things before blurting out words that I cannot take back. I can put myself in other peoples' shoes and see things through their eyes. I can be the friend - not that I would like to have - but rather, that my friends would like to have.

How does all of this relate to the sermon? Easy.

In the past, I think, I was quick to administer justice. If someone did something I didn't agree with, I was more than eager to give them what they deserved. Of course, in my own life, I would always hope for mercy.....I didn't want to be held accountable for my wrongs along the way. Who does?

Now, I want it to be all about grace. I want to be strong and mature enough to give those around me the kindness and compassion they may not deserve, but need. It's amazing how that grace can manifest itself. Grace may come in the form of biting my tongue, standing up for someone, listening without judging, or just being there in a time of need.

At the end of the day, it's easy to dole out justice, but it's so much more satisfying to offer grace.

Never Alone

This is a true account of what happened during my recent vacation. I have chosen to share this story because of how powerfully the experience moved me at a time when I was feeling particularly vulnerable. I respect each person's right to have their own beliefs, and I hope you will respect my right to mine.

~ C





As my friend and I made our way towards Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, I was consumed with the idea of once again playing in the ocean. The beach has always been a spiritual place for me. I try to go every couple of years or so to recharge my soul. There is something about the power of the ocean that brings me peace and perspective.

The past few years had been painful. A bitter divorce. Starting my life over. Job uncertainties. Loneliness. My faith had waned. I knew that God would never leave me, but I found myself leaving Him over and over again. I thought I could – should – handle everything on my own. If I was in charge, then the only one responsible for my happiness would be me. The more I felt alone, the easier I thought life would be.

We got to our hotel around 4:00, and by 4:30, we were on the beach. It was a picture perfect day – 88 degrees, not a cloud in the brilliant blue sky, and the ocean was glistening – beckoning me to come in.

I raced down to the surf and plunged into the ocean, willing my cares to be swept out to sea. However, I had grossly underestimated the power of the currents. A wave crashed over my head, knocking me to the shell-covered bottom. Before I could regain my footing, another wave swept over me, pinning me beneath the surface.

When the first wave knocked me down, I had instinctively reached up and grabbed my sunglasses, which I had worn into the surf, not anticipating going in more than waist-deep. When the second wave hit, I could feel my sunglasses being ripped from my hand. I fought to hold onto them. They may have been cheap and tacky, but I loved them! Suddenly, I heard a clear voice: “You can let go of your sunglasses, or you can let go of your life.” Startled, I uncurled my fingers from the sunglasses, just as wave number three bore down. Just as panic was about to set in, my friend reached for me with a strong arm and a sure hold, pulling me safely to shore. Shaken and embarrassed, I tried to play it cool. I commented that I was fine, but that my little adventure had cost me my favorite shades. I made a mental note to run by a store later that evening to replace them.

After a few more minutes of playing in the (ankle deep!) ocean, my friend and I decided to head for the hotel. As we turned to head in, my friend grabbed my arm, pointed, and said, “Look Carrie! Aren’t those your sunglasses?”

There, washed up on the beach without so much as a scratch, were my cheap and tacky sunglasses.

As I grabbed them up, I said a silent prayer of thanks…not that God had returned my sunglasses, but that He had shown me how He is there, even when I may not be.

Me, alone? Never.