We named our second daughter Grace. She has grown into that name, it suits her. She is beautiful and kind and wise and generous. She is also one of the best people I know. But this is not about her, but her name. It may be the most powerful word in our language. It represents a concept so profound and deep that poets and theologians have pondered it for millennia.
Our firstborn was a son. He is now in his thirties, a husband and father of three. Our next two pregnancies resulted in ugly and painful miscarriages. Then came Megan. She was born with a hole in her heart. She would live for over 24 years and then leave us with a hole in ours. Early on, acting out of fear, we agreed to a surgery that ended up fixing her heart but destroying her brain. These were obviously dark and terrifying months for us. We were crushed.
Then Marji became pregnant again. I swear that woman could get pregnant just standing downwind from me. During one of the ultrasound visits the tech asked us if we wanted to know the sex of the child. We said yes, and then watched as she typed the words “baby girl” on the screen. Marji burst into tears. I named that baby girl Grace on the spot. A generous gift from a generous God.
I know what some of you are thinking. How is this grace? Would it not have been better to prevent the miscarriages and the harm done to our first daughter? How can you call God generous if he doesn’t do that? How can you call him gracious? These objections seem logical and fair at first glance. But they reveal a sincere misunderstanding of grace.
God owes me nothing. He owes you nothing. God does not owe anyone anything. He never has and he never will. Everything we have is a gift, including our very existence. All your yesterdays and tomorrows. All the food you have ever eaten or will eat. They are all gifts, all Grace. The sun shining every day upon the wicked and the good. The last ten thousand beats of your heart. Every breath you will take today. All gifts, all Grace. Every sunrise, every hot shower, every warm embrace and all the laughter there has ever been down through the ages; all gifts, all Grace.
Grace is failing in thought, word and deed every day, and then receiving forgiveness every day just by asking for it. Grace is finding rebels in your kingdom with weapons in their hands and instead of killing them, they are brought into your banquet hall and allowed to feast at your table. Grace is being adopted by a trillionaire who owns the cattle on a thousand hills; a person you have given no thought to and yet they bring you into their family and call you daughter, son and heir.
Too often I stumble through my days with my heart complaining. Only seeing what I do not have. Only feeling what I am lacking. The opposite of gratitude is not ingratitude, it is resentment. And it is a wretched way to be human. It is accepting gifts while rejecting the giver. It is being too blind to notice the sun. It makes us ungracious. God did not owe me a daughter, broken or whole. Yet he has graciously given us five of them and three sons. All of them wonderful in their own ways.
Grace is God on a cross gathering all the forces of evil onto himself, and then winning by dying. It is the King of Glory pouring himself out to redeem an ungrateful slug like me. He needs nothing, he gives everything. Grace is the only approach to the throne of fire there has ever been.
So, to my wonderful daughter, and all other women named Grace I tip my hat. May you always experience the beauty and blessing of your name. May showers from Heaven always fill and satisfy your thirsty soul, which of course is just another picture of Grace.
“For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich.” 2nd Corinthians
“Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The Grace of God is glue.” – Eugene O’Neill