A Lotion Bottle and the Gift of Grace

Sometimes, it’s a bottle of lotion that prompts an epiphany.

I was getting ready for work in the morning and reached past the new fancy lotion I recently found on sale at Target for the old, boring bottle that doesn’t even make my skin feel that great. My thought was I should save the good stuff.

For what? A special occasion? When is the next special occasion in my life even going to be? I bought it because I love the brand and the scent is amazing and I loved the sample I tried in the store. But now that I own it, I’m afraid to use it? Why? Because I don’t want to use it up? There will always be more lotion to buy. The chance of it becoming nonexistent in the world once this bottle is empty is slim to none. So why won’t I use it gladly now while I have it, while it’s in front of me, instead of waiting out for all these foolish reasons?

Why do I do this with God’s grace too?

Why do I see it in front of me, beautiful and wonderful, but instead reach for old things, old habits, old patterns, old fixes?

Why do I turn away from His grace, afraid I’ll use it up and there won’t be more left if I start using it now?

Why am I afraid of it running out, when I know it won’t? It never could.

Why do I want to save the good stuff for later and try to satisfy myself with the faulty, flimsy, fake stuff instead?

His grace is for me. His grace is endless. Boundless. Amazing. Life-changing, life-saving, life-giving.

And I turn away. I’m scared. I’m afraid it would actually be wonderful. I’m afraid it’s wonderfulness will wreck me. I’m afraid I’ll deplete the stores. I’m afraid my messes are too big and there won’t be enough to cover it all. I’m afraid once I start, I’ll never be able to turn back, and that means sacrifice and surrender that I’m not sure I really want, if I’m honest.

Sometimes, it’s a bottle of lotion that prompts an epiphany.

I’m running from grace. I’m grasping at straws, trying to fill the voids with things that were never meant to sustain me. I’m ignoring His whispers, sure that the louder yells of this world are better, when I know in my heart they’re hollow.

Oh, how fickle my heart.

Girl, this grace is good. It’s the greatest good. It’s the greatest gift. Yes, it will wreck you, because you are undeserving and you know it, but there’s grace in an endless supply for you just the same. Yes, it’s wonderful. Yes, it will require sacrifice and surrender, but you know you’ve been trying to sustain on shallow, hollow, empty things that aren’t feeding or fulfilling you at all. Let them go. Give up the grip on the things of this world that only leave you hungry for more, desperate for affirmation, restless and uneasy and discouraged.

Lean in to what He’s offering you. You’ll see, I promise you, that there is so much more in store than what you thought was good before. This new good, this grace-filled kind of good, it will be transformative. You won’t even recognize yourself in the mirror anymore, because this grace will light up every beautiful thing in you and set you ablaze for His glory. You won’t even miss the things you left behind, because this grace-life is so much greater.

Pour it out. Pour out all you have at His feet. Like the woman with the alabaster jar of the expensive salve she could have easily wanted to save for my same silly reasons, I want to pour out all I am and have because He is worthy of the best. He is offering me life, fullness of life and freedom that is beyond any expensive thing I might think is beautiful, and I want to live a life of openhearted praise in response.

Give it all up, girl. Grab ahold of the good stuff. He wants to lavish it all upon you endlessly. It will never run out. You aren’t too far gone. Your messes aren’t too big. All that is empty in you will be filled with this sweet grace, and you’ll overflow with praise at this gift. His grace will keep coming so your praise can keep flowing.

This grace is the good stuff. Let Him give it. Receive it gladly. It’s the greatest gift.

Rachel Dawsongrace, faith