Grace Revisited

The beginning of my professional career draws ever nearer. I feel like I'm trying to influence the last few variables of what I am now calling my "identity formation." Most of the numbers have already been filled in: my education, experience, upbringing. I feel like it's a little late to decide who I want to be, which is a terrible, terrible thing for a twenty two year old to say. But I feel like I'm trying to get closure on a bunch of things before I venture into the chasm of American capitalism.

I took a very last minute trip to Nashville to see the United States women's national team play against Scotland (it's a darn shame that Rapinoe is lesbian). Nashville being the home of my alma mater, I paid a visit to my roommate and other friends there. But the hours long drive put me in a very contemplative mood. 

I specifically thought about the last sermon I had heard at my home church and how it had unnerved me quite a bit. Dusty spoke about a man who accidentally killed a young girl with his vehicle while driving home in the night. He had hardly felt a bump under his tire. When the police had determined that it was indeed this man that struck the little girl, the father of the child told the police he would press no charges. Furthermore, the father wanted a house to be built for the man in an act of unwavering forgiveness.

The part that really bothered me was when Dusty put up a video of an interview the guy and his wife. His wife was stricken and apologetic. They asked her about the grace of the father of the little girl, and she nearly wept. But when they panned over to the guy, he was smiling, boisterous even. He answered the questions with a jaunty carelessness. 

I didn't like that one bit at first. I felt like he needed some decency and gratitude, you know, some healthy penitence.

It dawned on me somewhere near Chattanooga that my compass of grace is critically and utterly broken. This man exists in the place of forgiveness, and is living it quite fully. I could do to learn a bit from him. It's like I'm a cross between the prodigal's older brother and Jonah, confused at the endless persistence of forgiveness all while grudgingly adhering to commands I know. I still don't like that younger brother sometimes, if I'm being honest. 

My obtuseness in regards to grace seems to be a product of my high internal standards and ingrained fundamentalism. I have a tough time shaking it. But I guess this guy gets it, to a large extent. I think at some point I'll figure it out... but its a very difficult thing for me. Grace is so great. 



What if you aren't really lost when you have nowhere to be because where you are is just as good as anywhere else?