Christians like to talk about grace. We extol its virtues, and love a story of the kind of radical grace that turns lives full of darkness and despair to ones full of light and hope. We like dramatic, flashy grace, the kind we can quickly point to and say, “Yes, there–that is grace at work.”
I want my grace to be big, so noisy I can’t escape or ignore it. Grace doesn’t always look like that though. That’s not how it’s showing up for me these days. Instead, I am perpetually at risk of not seeing it at all, or perhaps even choosing to not see it.
Because sometimes grace shows up in small, nearly imperceptible ways, edging its way gently along the cracks of our lives so that we hardly notice its presence. It doesn’t sing or shout. It does its work quietly, holding us together, knitting us up not with stitches, but with slow, quiet, patient healing, bringing our battered edges back together.
Sometimes grace leaps, and sometimes it plods along, diligently doing its work.
Sometimes grace simply looks like holding us where we are, not letting us be pushed or swayed, but not doing much pushing or swaying of its own, either.
This indistinct grace has a beauty to it, a kind not appreciated often enough. The stories of big grace don’t happen for everyone, but the slow, small grace does.
We just have to remember to look for it.
Til next time…
p.s. Where have you seen small grace at work?