Grace Jelly {An Evergreen Post}

My oldest son, for better or worse, is exactly like me. He is inquisitive, creative, and wholly excited to live life.

But, like his dear mother, he has a one-track mind, a tendency for the dramatics, and a decided opinion on the right way to do things.

We run joyfully through life, Wyatt and I, but sometimes we trip over obstacles in our way - those obstacles usually being our own two feet.

Tuesday was a tough day at the Smith house. Wyatt pulled a red card (RED!) in Kindergarten that day. Once he was home the behavior did not improve. Long story short, he was sent to bed early without his night time snack (a truly horrid punishment to any five year old).

At this point I, being his emotional doppelgänger, was HOT. Done. Yelling, angry, out of patience. My patience wasn't running on fumes - the tank was dry and the car of gentle, kind Mommy was five miles back down the road. I sat down on the couch replaying everything the child had done that day.

But...pitter patter. I heard his feet coming to the bedroom door. Creeeak - the door opens. And there, staring out at me from the darkened bedroom, are two big blue eyes. Just like mine.

My husband (always the voice of reason): "Jennifer, he's scared in there."

Begrudgingly, I walk down the hall. I hear his little feet running back to bed. (The same little feet that had tried to kick me a few minutes before.)

I walk to the bed and lay down, and there he is, weeping tears of repentance onto his pillow. "Mommy, I'm sorry I was bad today. I'm sorry."

I tell him I love him. That it's my job to make him a good person. I reassure him. And then I ask if he's hungry.

The silent nod - yes.

He humbly walks to the living room and sits on the carpet. I walk to the kitchen and fix toast. Dry toast.

He's been bad, right? I mean, I'll feed him, but he doesn't deserve his normal, frosted strawberry Pop-Tart.

"Mom, can I have some grape jelly?"

"No. This isn't a fun snack. This is just to fill your belly and then back to bed."

Another nod from my boy, accepting his punishment.

But then...my heart. My repentant child. Who, in earnest came to me. Admitting sin, accepting responsibility. Accepting his dry, tasteless toast.

I take his toast and walk back to the kitchen, open the refrigerator door, take out the jelly. And I slather it on.

And, in that moment, that jelly becomes something altogether different.

It became Grace Jelly.

Because, you know what? I too have been the weeping child, admitting guilt. Accepting the condemnation. But, my Father? He forgives freely, with joy, and offers me grace in abundance. I serve a God who walks my weeping, guilty self into the kitchen and offers me food.

And do I even need to ask?

He gives me toast, cut into triangles, no crust, and spread corner to corner with sweet, filling Grace Jelly.

Hosea chapters 5 and 6 tell us that when we come to the Lord in earnest repentance He will "heal us (6:1)."  As big as my sin is, His grace is still bigger (Romans 5:20).

My Father is the best and most perfect example of parenting. What is good for Him is most certainly right for me.

So my sweet son ate his toast and grape jelly.

Because, his mommy, who he is so much like, has been given Grace Jelly many, many times before.

And I will certainly eat it again.

Grace, grace, God's grace

Grace that will pardon and cleanse within

Grace, grace, God's grace

Grace that is greater than all our sin.

~Julia H. Johnston

Mercy, Not Sacrifice

It was not a good morning. By 9 am I had already made my two-year-old cry. Dude had peed on the floor and couch, stolen my iPad, upturned the box of spaghetti noodles all over the kitchen floor and made me wake up way too early. The patience tank was empty before the car of what was Monday had even pulled out of the driveway. I was exhausted. I mean, so what if I didn't go to sleep until 2 am? I was reading The Thornbirds and Ralph was returning to Drogehda! (If you have no idea what I'm talking about ask your mother. She'll totally know.)

Very little sleep. Angry toddler. Blah-feeling Mommy.

I guess I was just no good that day, right? I mean, what a failure the day was already.

Here comes the guilt. Here comes the I'm a terrible person. Here comes the hardening of my heart.

But it's Monday...and amidst all this guilt and no-goodness-in-me it's blog day and I have to write about the love of Jesus which I'm not really feeling. This is not going well.

But then I remember: "I desire mercy, not sacrifice."

Twice Jesus quotes this verse from Hosea during His early ministry. If Jesus says something even just once it's worth remembering, but if He quotes it two different times then it's probably something I should write down. It's probably something I should tattoo on my arm.

In Matthew 9:13 Jesus is eating with tax collectors and other sinners (I feel like I would have fit in well at this sinner-table). The Pharisees see Him and condemn Him - what are you doing with these low-lifes? And Jesus says, "These are the very people I've come for. I'm here for mercy, not pious perfection."

Again the Pharisees show up to ridicule Jesus' disciples when they pick grain to eat on the Sabbath in Matthew 12. Jesus again tells the Pharisees (who can't seem to get it!) that mercy is more important than ritualistic living.

(Is it bad that I identify with both the table of sinners and the Pharisees? Eek.)

Jesus is quoting Hosea 6:6. Hosea is a book filled with God's people wandering far from Him while He's desperately telling them, Come back to me! I desire to give you mercy! I don't want your empty sacrifices! I want you!

The ISV translation of this verse says that God seeks love, not how "good" you are.

So why did Jesus quote this? Why does He feel it's important to say this verse twice? Our Jesus, who knew His words would be written for the ages to read?

Because Jesus is the mercy.

From the beginning of time God desired to pour out His mercy onto the world. And the day Jesus was born, mercy was born. Where Jesus walked, mercy followed. When He spoke, mercy whispered.

When the blind man asked if Jesus wanted to heal him, mercy spoke: "Of course I do." When the woman with the issue of blood just wanted to touch His hem, mercy actually stopped and touched her.

We are so much more than our faults, friends. We are so much more than our grumpy moods and our bad days. And if we bring our cold, grumpy hearts to Him He is faithful to show us mercy. Because He wants our hearts, even if our hearts aren't having the best day. Even if we feel like our heart isn't a worthy sacrifice to bring Him.

But that's the thing: He doesn't want sacrifice, He wants love. He desires our humanity, not our acts of piety. Because all that perfection and righteousness are never gifts we will be able to bring to Him. Even on our best days. Those are gifts He supplies to us, along with His great mercy.

So my tired, grumpy, hard heart was given to Jesus to fix on that Monday morning. And, wouldn't you know? A little more love crept in, a little more laughter, a little more patience.

There will be many more times in my life when I will give my hardened heart to Jesus to fix. And that's okay because He told me. Twice:

I desire mercy.

Lord, may it be so.

What's My Motivation?

Back in the day (those being the late 90s) I considered myself quite the performer. Shows, school plays, choral performances. You name it, I was in it. Theater. Geek. A, ahem, highlight of my high school career was being voted Most Talented by my senior class.

I know, I know. Be impressed.

Flash forward 16 years and I will tell you that I have not stepped foot to perform onstage in...16 years. Many of my peers have far eclipsed my talent and success in the performing arts.

But, oh, I loved those days. I learned much from them. Things like character development, being in-the-moment, timing, connecting with an audience. And about asking that question we always snicker at when an actor asks it: What's my motivation? Or why is my character doing this? (This was of special importance when I would play the role of "Townsperson" or "Reporter #3" or "Random-Person-in-the-Background.")

We may make fun of this stereotypical question, but it's actually a really great question.

What's my motivation? Or, let's rephrase it for our real life and ask: What's the motive of my heart? Why am I doing this?

Hosea 8:11 says, "Israel has built many altars to take away sin, but these altars became places for sinning." And verse 13 says, "The people love to offer sacrifices to me,  but I do not accept their sacrifices."

I build altars with my life to God, too. Altars of good works and pretty things I've written. Altars of "Look how good Wyatt is at praying!" And "I'm a pastor's wife."

But none of it is good enough to give God. Those altars are faulty and will surely crumble if I don't lay something else on them: my heart.

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 And if I have aprophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, bso as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3 cIf I give away all I have, and dif I deliver up my body to be burned,1 but have not love, I gain nothing.

1 Corinthians 13:1-3

My altars, my sacrifices are no good without proper motivation. I do good things for Him with my life. This is important, yes. But these sacrifices mean nothing without my heart being given, too.

God doesn't want my good works. God wants me. And if He has me then He will, in turn, be pleased with what I've done in His name.

I was thinking this week of the difference between the words 'nice' and 'kind.' If someone were to describe me I would much rather they use the word kind.

Nice is good, but it's just an action: a smile or holding a door open or letting someone with fewer groceries cut in front of you in line.

But kind shows all that plus more. Kind shows the motive of the heart. It shows that the action was given from my heart. That I smiled or held a door or showed courteousness to a stranger because of love in my heart.

I want all things I do for God to be done from my love for Him. Not for recognition. Not for what it looks like to others. Not for the good things it may bring me.

So today I'll ask myself, what's my motivation? And I pray that my answer will be: my heart.

Lord, may it be so.

Grace Jelly

My oldest son, for better or worse, is exactly like me. He is inquisitive, creative, and wholly excited to live life.

But, like his dear mother, he has a one-track mind, a tendency for the dramatics, and a decided opinion on the right way to do things.

We run joyfully through life, Wyatt and I, but sometimes we trip over obstacles in our way - those obstacles usually being our own two feet.

Tuesday was a tough day at the Smith house. Wyatt pulled a red card (RED!) in Kindergarten that day. Once he was home the behavior did not improve. Long story short, he was sent to bed early without his night time snack (a truly horrid punishment to any five year old).

At this point I, being his emotional doppelgänger, was HOT. Done. Yelling, angry, out of patience. My patience wasn't running on fumes - the tank was dry and the car of gentle, kind Mommy was five miles back down the road. I sat down on the couch replaying everything the child had done that day.

But...pitter patter. I heard his feet coming to the bedroom door. Creeeak - the door opens. And there, staring out at me from the darkened bedroom, are two big blue eyes. Just like mine.

My husband (always the voice of reason): "Jennifer, he's scared in there."

Begrudgingly, I walk down the hall. I hear his little feet running back to bed. (The same little feet that had tried to kick me a few minutes before.)

I walk to the bed and lay down, and there he is, weeping tears of repentance onto his pillow. "Mommy, I'm sorry I was bad today. I'm sorry."

I tell him I love him. That it's my job to make him a good person. I reassure him. And then I ask if he's hungry.

The silent nod - yes.

He humbly walks to the living room and sits on the carpet. I walk to the kitchen and fix toast. Dry toast.

He's been bad, right? I mean, I'll feed him, but he doesn't deserve his normal, frosted strawberry Pop-Tart.

"Mom, can I have some grape jelly?"

"No. This isn't a fun snack. This is just to fill your belly and then back to bed."

Another nod from my boy, accepting his punishment.

But then...my heart. My repentant child. Who, in earnest came to me. Admitting sin, accepting responsibility. Accepting his dry, tasteless toast.

I take his toast and walk back to the kitchen, open the refrigerator door, take out the jelly. And I slather it on.

And, in that moment, that jelly becomes something altogether different.

It became Grace Jelly.

Because, you know what? I too have been the weeping child, admitting guilt. Accepting the condemnation. But, my Father? He forgives freely, with joy, and offers me grace in abundance. I serve a God who walks my weeping, guilty self into the kitchen and offers me food.

And do I even need to ask?

He gives me toast, cut into triangles, no crust, and spread corner to corner with sweet, filling Grace Jelly.

Hosea chapters 5 and 6 tell us that when we come to the Lord in earnest repentance He will "heal us (6:1)."  As big as my sin is, His grace is still bigger (Romans 5:20).

My Father is the best and most perfect example of parenting. What is good for Him is most certainly right for me.

So my sweet son ate his toast and grape jelly.

Because, his mommy, who he is so much like, has been given Grace Jelly many, many times before.

And I will certainly eat it again.

Grace, grace, God's grace

Grace that will pardon and cleanse within

Grace, grace, God's grace

Grace that is greater than all our sin.

~Julia H. Johnston