Grace. You're teaching me grace.
Given freely, though I far from deserve it.
You can try to work toward it.
Or try and pray harder, clearer, more sincere,
but it won't matter.
Grace. We don't earn it.
We don't deserve it.
And grace. It's all we need.
Some days I'll work harder,
some days I feel like fodder destined for fire.
Like it'd be better to chain me
with a fetter.
And somehow
You're grace comes creeping in.
You save Your grace
for the perfect place.
The perfect time
and the perfect space.
But what about mercy?
The emphasis there
seems on the life to come.
Still, let mercy abound
and show me how to
share this gift I've found.
It seems to please You
to give freely,
to give when
we least expect it.
Increased effort
to earn Your grace
will never put us
in an advanced place.
Grace is all over this place,
You let us soak it in.
You pour over us
and You don't hold back.
Perhaps sometimes
this grace is Your embrace.
A way to show us
You're still here.
To say,
"I've not forgotten you,
now don't you forget me."
Job had patience,
still somehow
his faith was not wavering.
He trusted You
and that's all he needed.
Of all people
he seemed the most eligible.
Grace is patient faith.
Job did nothing
deserving of disgrace
and he was met with destruction.
Still somehow he waited.
He knew He could
count on Your grace.
Thank You for still
letting me experience it
in this place.
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