What Exactly Is Grace?

Extravagant. Amazing. Cheap.

No, I’m not talking about a great sale at my favorite department store. I’m talking about grace. In Christian circles, we talk about extravagant grace, we sing about amazing grace, we bemoan the problem of “cheap grace.” We “say grace” at dinnertime; we sum up its meaning with acronyms (like “God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense”). We even name our daughters Grace. But what—really—is grace?

In my world—and in the simplest of terms—grace is the overwhelming idea that God mercifully forgives and deeply loves me, even in the face of wrongs I’ve done. I remember the first time I really “got” grace; to be frank, it wasn’t until after I’d really screwed up and felt tremendous guilt about something that I started to meaningfully experience grace. I’d talked about it plenty—but I didn’t “get it” until I realized I desperately needed it.

Grace tells us that no matter what we do—even the worst of the worst of the worst—God’s love is bigger and deeper and stronger than our sin. He won’t give up on us, ever. He’ll forgive us and love us and make us new again.

Hence the need for another descriptor: dangerous grace.

Grace is dangerous because, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer challenged us, we Jesus-followers can easily begin to treat it cheaply. “Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance,” writes Bonhoeffer in The Cost of Discipleship. “[W]hat has cost God much cannot be cheap for us.” We shouldn’t embrace God’s grace to the extent that we forget God’s expectations of us: rules for us to live by, kingdom values that challenge us to forego our selfish impulses and live in selfless obedience. Grace is dangerous because it can make us too comfortable—we sit on our laurels and coast through life without a proper “fear” of God. Grace is meant to bring us a sense of peace and security, but not at the cost of our obedience.

How have you personally experienced God’s grace? What does grace mean in your life—in your view of yourself, your spiritual walk, and your relationships with others? How does the tremendous cost of his grace challenge you?

On the Lookout

We were all so excited for “Leah’s” visit to the office with her new baby. She’d been on maternity leave for four weeks and was coming by at lunch so we could ooh and aah at her new bundle of joy.

But when I saw Leah, I quickly realized joy was the furthest thing from her experience.
“I’m so happy to see you,” I whispered as we hugged. When I stepped back, I saw tears in her eyes—and they weren’t tears of happiness.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“This is so much harder than I thought it would be,” she told me. “It’s so, so hard.”
Leah wasn’t just tired from pulling an all-nighter with her baby. She was suffering from postpartum depression.

I saw Leah again a few weeks later. She’d met with her doctor and was now on medication, she confided. It was helping a little, but she still cried all the time. She asked me not to tell anyone—she felt like she’d be judged by other Christians, especially for taking medication.

Leah’s struggle helped me begin to see depression for what it is: an extremely serious issue, often with biochemical components, that’s a lot more than just feeling down. And sadly, as Leah experienced, talking openly about the problem often feels taboo.

But the reality is that one in four women, both Christians and non-Christians alike, will suffer through clinical depression at some point in her life; many others struggle with other biochemical problems like anxiety attacks, bipolar disorder, or extreme PMS. Whether you realize it or not, you’ll encounter women suffering from depression or similar mental and emotional illnesses in your family, in your Bible study group, or even in your mirror. These are complex problems that touch a woman’s emotions, physical well-being, relationships, and even her spiritual life.

It’s been several years since my friend Leah’s bout with postpartum depression. It wasn’t a quick fight—she was on antidepressants for nearly two years and is still being closely monitored by her doctor. But she made it through—and is back to her bubbly-old self. But one thing’s different about Leah: she’s now on the lookout for other Christian women who are struggling with this same, often secret, problem. Whenever she congratulates a pregnant friend, she always pulls her aside for a quick hug and tells her very briefly about her own struggle with postpartum depression so that her friend will be aware in case it strikes—and, more important, so that she’ll feel okay about reaching out for help.

So how are we to care for those who are depressed or paralyzed by anxiety? What are we to do if we find ourselves in a face-off with a serious emotional problem? Is it okay to take antidepressants or anti-anxiety medication? How can faith survive this type of challenge? How can we, like Leah, live “on the lookout” for others who may need our encouragement?

A Re-Education on Beauty

A few months ago, I had the opportunity to travel to Cebu, Philippines, in order to celebrate my brother’s wedding. My family and I flew in for 10 days, met his soon-to-be-wife, met her family, and wrapped up the trip with their wedding. A whirlwind experience, leaving me several weeks later, still processing the trip. As we traveled around Cebu City and visited other islands, we noticed a trend: eyes staring at us. We learned that the culture associates white skin with beauty, wealth, and celebrity, which sky-rocketed us to the center of attention everywhere we went. I was humbled, embarrassed, and moved by this notion, and through it, was able to view my own culture’s concept of beauty from a distance.

Like our culture, the Filipino culture has taught them how they should look. You see it all over the media—on billboards and local television shows. It’s engrained in them. Though they may have a different concept of beauty from ours, we share the same eternal struggle—unobtainable standards of beauty.

You’ve read articles on beauty, self-image, and self-worth before, so I’m not going to go in-depth here. Do a search on Kyria.com and you’ll find a wealth of articles and wisdom on these issues. However, observing this struggle in the Philippines reminded me to confront my continued struggle of negative self-image.

I compare myself to other women wherever I go, and it’s exhausting. I’m tired of trying to live up to our culture’s standards. Since I’ve been home I’ve been trying to focus on the positive things about myself, instead of continually lingering on what I’m unsatisfied with. I’ve read what the Word tells me about beauty and strength. I’ve even written a list of non-physical attributes about myself that empower me as a woman of Christ. As I continue on this journey of a restored definition of beauty, I’ll learn more. My hope is that as women of Christ we would re-educate ourselves to see our beauty in how God has created us.

What is it that our culture has engrained in you about beauty, and how will you rectify that with what you know about yourself and what the Word tells you?

Unexpected Mentors

I’ve never really thought of myself as someone who wants a mentor. I’m pretty self-sufficient. I hold my cards close to my chest, and—for better or worse—it’s not in my nature to talk about a problem or decision in-depthly with many others.

“I’ve never had a mentor,” I’d tell friends who would talk about a youth leader who poured into their lives when they were high school or the teacher who guided them through some tough decisions. While I was generally okay with this, sometimes I’d feel a pang of jealousy toward those who had an older woman take a mentoring role in their life.

It wasn’t until more recently that I began to see the mentors in my life. Two women come to mind—both of them former bosses. I sat across the table from one of them at a restaurant recently, realizing that it had been nine years ago that we’d first met. She hired me at my college library—a place where I worked for four years. Every so often we get together to catch up, this last time after a too-long hiatus. I left the three-hour dinner feeling so grateful for her. While probably neither she nor I would give her the title of “mentor” over “friend,” it struck me that she was indeed a mentor to me and has been for the past nine years. A lot of growing and changing happens during those formative college years, and it nearly overwhelms me to look back and remember her prayers for me, her questions, her investment in my life. Though I was employed by her, I knew that I was more than just a student worker—my personal and spiritual life was cared for. Even now when I don’t see her for a long time, she remembers details of my life, encourages me, and speaks truth. I’m humbled to realize that I’ve had a couple amazing women invest in me, despite my inwardness.

I love this kind of mentoring—it’s not something planned or decided ahead of time. It just happens. An organic, natural extension of a person’s care and concern for another person. I’ve found it to be a beautiful, tangible expression of God’s commandment to us to love our neighbor as ourselves (Matthew 22:37–39). Examples of mentoring are throughout the Bible: Jesus and the disciples, Paul and Timothy, Naomi and Ruth. God values and even modeled the idea of mentorship. Proverbs 13:20 says: “Walk with the wise and become wise; associate with fools and get in trouble.” I’ve come to realize the necessity of older, wiser voices in my life. It is through these relationships that I learn about myself, draw nearer to God, and find encouragement and support.

I’ll probably never be the type to seek out a weekly, sit down mentoring relationship with someone. But I will continue to be open to the women in my life who know me, and hope that one day my experiences and wisdom can naturally extend as a mentoring voice to another.

Do you have a mentor in your life? How did that relationship come about? Do you consider yourself a mentor to others?