Where’s My Hammer?

I ask that question quite frequently. If not that exact question, then one of a similar nature.

  • Where’s my Hex wrenches?
  • Where’s my new scraper?
  • Who used my drill last and where did you leave it?
  • Would somebody please tell me where they left or hid the TV remote?

Last night (as I write this on Wednesday morning), it was my favorite blue-handled framing hammer missing from action. Eventually, after looking for something else, I found it in the bottom of a basket full of electric tools (said tools which haven’t been used by me in months). It was like somebody took everything out and laid it in the very bottom before piling it all back in.

Really?

Really!

Have you ever heard of the mischievous sock elves (the ones responsible for the one missing sock of a pair in the basket of freshly laundered clothes)? At my house, we also have the if-it-belongs-to-the-Dad-let’s-use-his-stuff-and-leave-it-in-obscure-places elves.

Whether your experiences are like mine or not (please don’t further depress me by telling me I am alone on this), we all value our stuff. Sometimes it’s because we paid good money for the things we own and the value derives from that. Sometimes the value is found in what the stuff is used for. And sometimes, the value of our stuff is based on sentimental worth. In my closet (which is often not safe from the I-need-a-pair-of-dress-socks-or-a-plain-white-T-shirt elves), there are two footlockers full of my Cole’s treasures. Inside are toy cars, ball caps, stuffed animals, assorted balls, and other things of little monetary worth. But because they were his, they are my treasures now. Others might see junk, but those things are of immeasurable worth to me.

In the great scheme of life, nothing we own of a physical nature has any lasting or eternal value. On the other hand, how we view our stuff does. In the guise of keeping it real, stinginess comes easy for me. But since stingy is never pretty, I must work hard at not holding on so tightly to my stuff. What helps me is seeing my stuff as tools. I can use my tools to serve myself, or I can use my tools to serve God and others. Serving God and others helps me recognize the true source of my stuff.

How about you? Got stuff? Where is your treasure?                           

Don’t store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves don’t break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (Matthew 6:19–21 CSB17)

Les, Jr.

 

Imago Dei (2)

Writing, writing, writing…  I am writing left and right it seems these days. And I love it! I am amazed to see myself where I am… Thank you for reading and sharing and encouraging! I am blessed and thankful!

The following is the second in a series of old bulletin articles…

Mad face.

Grumpy face.

Happy face.

I must be a horrible father because I cannot remember which boy. One of them, either Conner or Casey, was good at making faces on demand. They were quite funny. The happy face was sweet. But the grumpy and mad faces were hysterical because they served as miniature caricatures of how many adults look and act.

Honestly, I don’t know many people—adults especially—who haven’t perfected wearing the grumpy woe-is-me-the-world-is-ending kind of face.

Likewise, I have seen enough mad faces to know it doesn’t take any special skill to scare the socks off folks with a practiced, well-aimed glare.

And if I can be a bit meddlesome, some of us deserve an Academy Award except for one thing; we aren’t acting!

I teased Mickey in my article last week. I am not going to tease him this time. I have never seen his grumpy or mad face. I suspect he has one of each, but if you want to know more, you’ll have to check with Kay.

In the meantime, the Latin phrase Imago Dei means the image of God. When those words are used, it is meant to convey the same thing you read about last week.

Genesis 1: 26a, Then God said, “Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness….

We bear the image of God.

Now some question what that means. There are those who think its about knowledge and wisdom from God. Others see this as something we lost with the Fall of Man. Still more understand we were each created with a bit of the divine and therefore have inherent value, worth, and identity.

Imago Dei. Image bearer. It’s that last concept that really rings true for me. I have value. You have worth. A part of God is in each of us. We were made in His image. That ought to give rise to a happy face.

It ought to also make us pause when we treat badly someone whom God has made and infused with the precious gift of life.

What did Jesus say?

You have heard that it was said to our ancestors, Do not murder, and whoever murders will be subject to judgment. But I tell you, everyone who is angry with his brother or sister will be subject to judgment. Whoever insults his brother or sister, will be subject to the court. Whoever says, ‘You fool!’ will be subject to hellfire. (Matthew 5:21–22 CSB17)

Whose image does your face, words, and action resemble?

It’s worth considering again what it means to bear the image of God!

Les, Jr.

PS. Try to make a happy face right now. Try to keep it all day long. I triple dog dare you…

Image Bearer (1)

  I had a funny (as in Ha-Ha) conversation with my editor at Leafwood Publishers today that went like this: “Any news on a title? That would help me a lot—it gives me something to tell people. It is too weird telling folks ‘I have a book coming out next spring. No, I don’t know the name of it yet.’”  

In perfect timing, she emailed me back with an answer this afternoon. Pardon the pun, but while we are still wrestling with the subtitle, I am fairly confident that the main title will be: “Still Wrestling!” 

As far as I know, everything is percolating right along for a late spring/ early summer 2018 release.

I can hardly wait! This is worse than waiting for Christmas morning! Meanwhile, I continue to write for The Clarion-Ledger on a monthly basis. I am also at work on a second full book of my own. If I had to guess, I’d say it will serve quite well as a sequel to my first.

If you are in the area, we would love for you to come visit at the Lake Harbor Church of Christ where I minister and preach.

What follows is the modified first of a four-part series of bulletin articles I wrote earlier this year. I hope each will be of benefit…

You have four choices to choose from in answering this question:

Where was I?

  1. A Star Wars/ Star Trek/ Battle Star Galactica Convention
  2. An intergalactic Zoo
  3. The Los Angeles International Airport (LAX)
  4. A point in time where transhumanism was in full evidence.

In the vein of a popular syndicated morning radio show, take C.

I had never in my life seen anything like it.

Anybody with eyes in their heads could have seen this country bumpkin come to town.  What a rube I was! Did I mention I had never in my life seen anything like it? In every direction I turned, I saw a new sight stranger than the one before. I didn’t want to be rude, but I wanted to ask a lot of questions.

Or not. I was genuinely afraid of the answers.

So there I was, with my mouth, wide open and my faced scrunched up in a semi-permanent, “Wow, are these people real?”

Why yes, yes, they were.

Jim Morrison didn’t know the half of it. People are strange.  Apparently, the Los Angeles airport is where strange comes to town.

Or a magnet. That’s a distinct possibility. I did see lots of metal stuck in the weirdest places.

Netflix’s production company missed out on a money saving/ money making opportunity. Instead of all the effort involved in the filming and special effects in Stranger Things, they could have set up a camera in the Los Angeles airport.

People are strange.  There is no doubt about it.

Take my friend Mickey for instance.  On second thought, my contract only allows me to tease Mickey while I’m preaching.

Take me for example.  Or you, if you’re feeling a little bit charitable.

I love ketchup on my eggs and grits.
I have a child who eats ranch dressing on everything.

Those aren’t half the examples of strange things in my family. Need some more?

I have a brother who likes the University of Alabama.  I don’t know how much weirder that can get.

And my own wife, yes even her, likes to work around the house on Saturdays. Work? Yes, work.  She grew up in a strange family apparently.

But then there is you. Can you spell weird? The music you listen to, the shows you like, the things you expect–and from your preacher too.

Weird, strange, and sometimes hysterical. Yes, we are.

Because of our idiosyncrasies, most of us are in a constant need of mercy and grace. Unfortunately, instead of being deep reservoirs from which we share the same, we tend to be fixers. We try to fix everybody in every way that doesn’t line up with our own likes, understandings, and beliefs.  And maybe some fixing is needed.

But whether it is mercy, grace or fixing you offer, it ought to all stem from one specific understanding.

Genesis 1: 26-27, Then God said, “Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness. They will rule the fish of the sea, the birds of the sky, the livestock, all the earth, and the creatures that crawl on the earth.”  So God created man in His own image; He created him in the image of God; He created them male and female.

Image-bearer! Every human being bears the image of God. Even those of us who are strange.

Think about that the next time you want to be critical, overbearing, mean or ugly.

I am an image-bearer. So are you!

Check out my Facebook Writer’s Page!

Les Ferguson, Jr.
Madison/ Ridgeland, MS

‘Tis the Season…

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‘Tis the season to be jolly. At least until you run out of fa la la la la la la…

At this point in life, I can fully empathize with those who suffer through the holidays.

Personally, I normally try to fight through my pain. I don’t want to be that guy who is always a mess of wildly fluctuating emotions.  Letting myself have an old-fashioned cry isn’t my default choice.

But there are those moments when the only way forward is found in entering the emotional minefield. I am doing that now by sharing with you a part of my story only a few haver ever heard…

Several weeks before October 10, 2011, we started a Christmas layaway for the boys–mainly Casey and Cole.

After October 10, 2011, one set of items was no longer needed.

Unfortunately, this store did not understand my dilemma. They did not have any available mechanism or procedure to cancel part of the layaway or separate the items no longer needed.

There are some things in life you cannot avoid. Like I said earlier, sometimes the only way out is to go through it. And that’s what I did. I had to purchase the entire layaway and then separate all the individual items and return what wasn’t needed.

I feel sorry now for the poor cashier/checker who had to serve me, but not then. Not then at all. I was so full of anger and pain combined with a weird kind of tenderness. Cole never touched any of those things, but somehow they were still his treasures and worthy of a bit of respect.

I lost a piece of me that day. In many respects, it was like pouring salt on an open wound.

Why am I telling you this? This story is a sacred place for me. Hopefully sharing it will encourage you to have empathy for those who struggle during this time of year.

The best gift you will ever give cannot be bought. Give others the gift of patience, love, and acceptance.  Show them the arms of Jesus.  After all, tis the season to be the reason the people around you experience love.

Thank you for being my safe place too.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Cor. 13:7 HCSB)

Blessings to all,

Les Ferguson, Jr.
Madison/ Ridgeland, MS

My Eyes Are Dry

cole 1  You may look at the title and think the reference is to my tears or lack thereof.

Don’t get your hopes up.

I still cry.
I still struggle.
I still wrestle with loss.

Last month’s five-year anniversary of the day that changed our lives forever was particularly hard.

Honestly? I am already dreading the 27th of this month. That is Cole’s birthday. He would have been twenty-seven. I miss him so.

There is a place in my heart that will always be just a bit raw over our losses. I grieve regularly for my children and their pain.

In some respects, I will always have unanswered questions–at least on this side of the vale.

Believe it or not, sometimes my questions have much less to do with tragedy and more with life itself.`

Scripture often affirms that which we may not always quite understand or comprehend.

In this case specifically, I am reminded of the following descriptions of King David:

But now your kingdom will not endure; the Lord has sought out a man after his own heart and appointed him ruler of his people, because you have not kept the Lord’s command.”  1 Samuel 13:14

After removing Saul, he made David their king. God testified concerning him: ‘I have found David son of Jesse, a man after my own heart; he will do everything I want him to do.’ Acts 13:22

I read those verses and confess: I sometimes struggle to understand how this could be true.

David, a man after God’s own heart?

Obviously that sentiment is positively affirmed by scripture.  And just as obviously, I must accept it while I try to understand it.

When I look at David’s life, I see it through some dark and dirty lenses—my own as well as his.

He was a man of mistakes.  I am a man of mistakes. Some of David’s, like his affair with Bathsheba and the subsequent murder of her husband Uriah, are stupendously ugly.  I’d rather not have to confess all of my ugliness, but ugly I own in multiple shapes and fashions. When you look at David’s family it becomes readily apparent that he would have never won the Father of the Year award. In solidarity, I have made more than my fair share of parenting gaffes and blunders.

So while freely acknowledging the sometimes strident nature of his failures and sins, still God says he was a man after His own heart.

How? How could a man like David be afforded such a gracious epithet?

Better yet, how can I? How can you? Is there any real hope for those of us who own an error filled life?

Yes, there is hope. No matter how dark the day, no matter how messed up the occasion, there is hope. And the answer to how may not be as far off as you might suppose.

These are David’s words: Keep me safe, my God, for in you I take refuge.  I say to the Lord, “You are my Lord; apart from you I have no good thing.”  (Psalm 16:1-2)

David recognized the one true source of protection—the only place of real refuge.  David understood that without God he was nothing. And David, in spite of his epic flaws and failures, longed most of all to know and be known by God.

Although not written during David’s time, I suspect David instinctively knew the truth of Keith Green’s song, “My Eyes Are Dry.”

My eyes are dry
My faith is old
My heart is hard
My prayers are cold
And I know how I ought to be
Alive to You and dead to me

But what can be done
For an old heart like mine
Soften it up
With oil and wine
The oil is You, Your Spirit of love
Please wash me anew
With the wine of Your Blood

May God soften my heart. May God soften yours. And in the softening may we be shaped, formed, and fashioned in such a way as to become a man, a woman after God’s own heart.

I long for the heart of God.

How about you?

Les Ferguson, Jr.
Madison/ Ridgeland, MS

Joy in the Morning

sunrise

For His anger lasts only a moment, but His favor, a lifetime.
Weeping may spend the night, but there is joy in the morning.
(Psalms 30:5 HCSB)

Sing with me, sing for the year
Sing for the laughter, sing for the tear
Sing with me just for today
Maybe tomorrow, the good lord will take you away…
(Steven Tyler/ Aerosmith)

Hope. Sometimes it’s a rare commodity, but if you’ll pardon the bad pun, I hope you realize hope is something we all need.

As much as we might appreciate hope, we tend to throw the word/ concept around like it was a two-bit toy we aren’t all that impressed to begin with.

  • I hope my team wins.
  • I hope I get off work early.
  • I hope I get to see that movie.
  • I hope we have meatloaf for supper (I can dream, can’t I?).

I hope this, you hope that, we hope something entirely different together.

Hope, hope, hope…

More often than not, the things we hope for and the things we hope in are without much real value in the long term scheme of things.

And that verse at the top of this post? I admit, I have not much been a fan. Where I tended to view it through my frustration or pain, I missed the hope.

For forty years, Burger King convinced those of us who have come of age in a fast-food world that we could “have it our way!”

McDonald’s may have been even worse because they convinced the same folks (self included) that “we deserve a break today!”

And so here we are.

We want life quick, easy, cheap and convenient—and for the most part that is what we hope for.

When difficulties come our way, when life struggles happen, when grief assails, what then?

If you are like me, then you might realize even more struggle because our ability to endure, our ability to wait for the joy that comes in the morning has been compromised and often severely by our expectations.

But real hope—not a convenient hope—but a real and abiding hope takes a long-term approach.

Real hope understands that the difficulties of this life last but a night in the scope of eternity.

Real hope understands that morning is coming but morning may not yet be on our calendar.

How’s your hope? Mine is growing clearer, because in Jesus, hope is here!

Les Ferguson, Jr.
Madison/ Ridgeland, MS.

For His anger lasts only a moment, but His favor, a lifetime.
Weeping may spend the night, but there is joy in the morning.
(Psalms 30:5 HCSB)

ThereIsHope

Enough?

For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account. (Hebrews 4:12–13)

Once upon a time, in a land far away, I woke up to the simple fact that I was woefully flawed.

It wasn’t really anything newly discovered.  There wasn’t any blatant immortality that suddenly reared its ugly head.  There was no forced intervention of family and friends to rescue me from some overtly destructive behavior.

On the other hand, there was the slowly dawning realization that my flaws and failures were real and weren’t going to be wished away.  There was the slowly expanding understanding that the Spirit of God had much work still yet to do in me.  And, to make matters worse I came to see how my stubborn pride was doing a pretty good job of putting out the Spirit’s fire.

I was a master at sticking my head in the sand. I was perfectly equipped to ignore or at least see my flaws as less flawed than others. As a result, it was far easier to preach to someone else than to recognize God’s Spirit illuminating my own short comings.

Ultimately, I began to understand with greater clarity that all men (and women) were truly equal: we are all broken by sin!  My sin, my struggles, my brokenness was not somehow less sinful than yours. At the end of the day, the only real difference between any of us–outside of the saving grace of Jesus– was our ability to see our own imperfection.

Today?

Today, I am the same guy to one degree or another. I am still tempted on occasion to see myself as above others. I am still enticed by the desire to see your failures as worse than mine. Thankfully, God is still working on me and His enlightenment continues to grow.

Tomorrow may be different. I may get stuck again. I may close my eyes to some essential truth. And If I do, well, tomorrow I may need you to kindly and lovingly remind me that I am not what I sometimes think.

But today? Today I can say with all the hope in the universe… “Hi! My name is Les Ferguson, Jr. I am a husband, father, son, and brother–and now a grandfather. I am a minister. I am a writer. But more importantly, I am a child of the King. Broken by sin/ renewed, restored, and reconciled by grace.”

And that’s enough.

Until God calls us home, that’s enough.

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Les Ferguson, Jr.
Madison/ Ridgeland, MS

That Lovin’ Feelin’

I rarely watch any TV. It’s not that I don’t want to, but sitting still for that long is quite often a problem for me—at least when staring at a screen.

Sometimes at night, one of the news channels will be on in the background, but I am usually reading or writing or otherwise occupied to pay much attention.

During college football season I’ll catch a few games here and there. I might watch a little of the World Series. And every once in awhile I might tune in to a Saints game.

That’s about it. I can’t remember the last movie I went to. I am regularly embarrassed by my lack of knowledge when it comes to movies, shows, actors, bands, and musicians. At one point, it was mentioned to me that The Band Perry used to live in a house around the corner from us. It was quite humorous (and embarrassing, I guess) because I had absolutely no idea who or what they were about. Pop culture doesn’t engender very much interest for me…

At one point I was quite proud of the fact that I had never ever listened to Taylor Swift. All that came to an unfortunate end last year at a school talent show I was obligated to attend. At the end of the evening, I dearly wanted to shake it off and pretend the night never happened.

But, totally out of character for me, this past Monday night I actually turned the TV on and looked for a movie. I stopped on basically the first thing I saw: Top Gun!

This is one of my favorite old movies. I let it play a bit in the background as I did other things. I focused on some of the flight scenes. But the one one part that grabbed my attention most was when Maverick (played by Tom Cruise) told his f-14 back seater, Goose, that “she’s lost that loving feeling.” In the movie, Goose immediately tells Mavrick, “no, she hasn’t.” And when Maverick insist she has, Goose utters one of my favorite lines, “I hate it when she’s lost that loving feeling.” And just like that the two of them are serenading a lady Maverick wants to meet…

You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips

And there’s no tenderness like before in your fingertips

You’re trying hard not to show it, (baby)

But baby, baby I know it

You’ve lost that lovin’ feelin’

Whoa, that lovin’ feelin’

You’ve lost that lovin’ feelin’

Now it’s gone…gone…gone…woah

(The Righteous Brothers)

And of course there is more to the song, but I wonder how many of us find this to be true.

  • I wonder how many of us are in relationships where somebody has lost that lovin’ feelin’.
  • I wonder how many of us have a skewed vision of love that is more about our own interests than the interests of others.
  • I wonder how many of us have simply forgotten that the greatest commandment, the command to love transcends all time and place.

One of the Pharisees, an expert in the Law, asked Jesus which was the greatest commandment… And Jesus’ answer was “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and most important command. The second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself. All the Law and the Prophets depend on these two commands.” (Matthew 22:36–40 HCSB)

Seems to me, based on that one short passage, none of us can afford to lose our lovin’ feeling toward God or anyone else.

And that makes the words of Paul even more important…

If I speak human or angelic languages but do not have love, I am a sounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith so that I can move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing. And if I donate all my goods to feed the poor, and if I give my body in order to boast but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. Love does not envy, is not boastful, is not conceited, does not act improperly, is not selfish, is not provoked, and does not keep a record of wrongs. Love finds no joy in unrighteousness but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for languages, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when the perfect comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put aside childish things. For now we see indistinctly, as in a mirror, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I will know fully, as I am fully known. Now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love. (1 Corinthians 13:1–13 HCSB)

How well do you love?

The Stigmata

Galatians 6:17, From now on, let no one cause me trouble, because I bear on my body scars for the cause of Jesus.

I have a funny image in my head from when I was a small boy. My family left Manassas, Virginia at the end of my third grade year in school to move to Texas. And since this funny image took place in Manassas, it had to have been put there sometime in 1970 or before.

At any rate, I remember watching this group of four men at church (my daddy being one of them) standing in a circle and simultaneously all looking down at their pants legs. I remember a bit of grumbling. I remember the look of confusion on all of their faces—as if somehow, someway the whole world had shifted on them.

I laugh at that image in my head. I laugh at the thought of four wives conspiring together—worse, shopping together—all to see their four husbands wearing strange new pants.

Bell bottoms.
Flared legs.
No more Mr. Straight-Legs for these guys.

And laugh as I might all these years later, fashions have changed and changed again. What once was, comes again. As I sit here today, I feel quite certain that should elephant-eared bell bottoms to come back in style, I would do my very best to avoid that particular fashion disaster!

Personal expression has changed an awful lot.
People watching has never been a more amazing, humorous, and scary event.
Not that I am the epitome of style and good taste.
(Let’s please hide all of the pictures from long ago that might possibly show a younger version of me with a quite unfortunate mullet hairstyle.)

But I digress.
Personal expression changes; and yet, some things have remained the same.

I am not a fan of piercings (if you have one, this isn’t about being critical of you or anybody else). But piercings have been around an awful long time. More than just a show of personal expression, they often signaled ownership.

Even better, in our biblical example, it signifies you have chosen to be owned.

When you buy a Hebrew slave, he is to serve for six years; then in the seventh he is to leave as a free man without paying anything. If he arrives alone, he is to leave alone; if he arrives with a wife, his wife is to leave with him. If his master gives him a wife and she bears him sons or daughters, the wife and her children belong to her master, and the man must leave alone.

But if the slave declares: ‘I love my master, my wife, and my children; I do not want to leave as a free man,’ his master is to bring him to the judges and then bring him to the door or doorpost. His master must pierce his ear with an awl, and he will serve his master for life.
(Exodus 21:2–6 HCSB)

How’s that for a personal expression?

And so we sometimes sing:

Pierce my ear, O Lord, my God
Take me to Your door this day.
I will serve no other gods,
Lord, I’m here to stay.
For You have paid the price for me
With Your blood You ransomed me.
I will serve You eternally,
A free man I’ll never be.

Marked.
Not my own.

What makes this even crazier, that’s what grace does.
It changes us.
It marks us.
It signifies we are owned by one greater than us.

What are you marked by? What stigma do you wear?

stigma

Practice

There are four violinists in my house.

I am not one of them.

Years ago, I took violin lessons for a short time. But when I was in college I met this beautiful girl and badly wanted to take her on a date.

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So I took my violin to a pawn shop, had a fantastic date, and in another unimagined life many years later, that beautiful girl became my wife.

Unknown to me during the intervening years, her mom took up violin and eventually she and her two boys did as well. After we got married, the youngest in our Brady Bunch World began taking violin lessons. And he took to it like the proverbial duck to water. He has a natural ability.

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I don’t mind paying for music lessons. I would love to take some for myself. However, at this stage of life, I mostly have to be content with playing a radio louder and better than most.

But, do you know what costs more than music lessons and instruments to play?

Practice.

As in pulling our hair out to get somebody to practice like they should.
It takes a lot of time, effort, and patience to get someone to do what they ought to do.
And not just where music lessons are concerned.

As it turns out practice is not cheap for anybody.

The same could be said for grace.

I am so thankful for the grace given through Jesus.
I know I don’t deserve it.
I know I rarely live worthy of it.
I know it requires an unfathomable amount of love and patience for me to have it.
And I know it is the costliest thing in the world.

Grace has never been cheap.

Paul tells us in 1 Corinhians 6:20 we were bought at a price. The cost of our redemption came at an awful expense.

Grace is never cheap.
Nor is the practice of grace.

If I give you grace, it costs me something.
It might be time.
It might be personal pride.
It might be a change in attitude.
It might be a change in behavior.

Giving you grace means I don’t have to be right.
I don’t have to force my understanding.
I don’t have to have my way.

How I wish we could be as quick to give grace to one another as we are to judge and condemn.

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I am thankful for you.
I am thankful for grace.
I am thankful for the grace God gives each of us to begin each day anew.

Practice grace.

It will cost you something but the benefits are out of this world!

Les, Jr.