Yesterday I worked quite energetically at putting water on dry ground, making sure my tomato plants don’t wither. I spent long minutes at each of the flower beds for which Rita cared. I was trying to imagine how deeply the moisture was penetrating the ground as I sprayed expensive water from the garden hose. In the back of my mind, I could picture the water meter in our basement spinning furiously.
Just a few hours later, we were celebrating a short downpour of rain. This rain wasn’t carefully aimed at a few tomato root systems. This rain wasn’t strategically planned for the smaller flower patches while leaving the dry lawn for another time. And, the water meter in our basement never budged during all of it.
The rain came without the smallest effort from me, and without the slightest financial cost to me, and without the stingy limitations that seek to prevent wasted moisture. It fell without obligation to me, and without accountability for my responses or appreciation.
I relearned some things from the rain last night.
I celebrate the concept of grace in a renewed way because of that reminder. I am deeply impacted and changed by the grace I have received–much like an indiscriminate rain shower.
Today Rita and I celebrate 48 years of marriage. That’s a fresh and amazing part of this review of the meaning of grace. I’m reflecting on the emotional, physical, and spiritual health that are improved by, and dependent on, the function of grace.
Grace is being loved and accepted by someone who has many reasons to reject me. Grace is being able to remember painful experiences in a relationship and to remember hurtful words and actions without a desire to repay or to demand restitution. Grace is the skill of knowing when to work out a conflict and when to simply let it go.
In our relationship, there are so many times when grace keeps us from saying something that deserves to be said. I love that, when it protects my fragile ego from things Rita would like to critique in my life. In contrast, I often go ahead and say what I think she needs to hear in order to become a better person. I’m still learning that almost all of those words are simply for my own satisfaction. Grace is not like that.
Grace is indiscriminate in its very nature. Grace doesn’t actually change an objective reality; as in, Rita’s grace toward me does not remove my arrogance or judgmental tendencies. It only changes me when I reflect on the nature of her indiscriminate and undeserving grace. That tends to inspire more graceful responses in me.
Of course, I believe this amazing concept begins with God who described himself as gracious and compassionate. And the unexpected characteristics of the concept of grace are illustrated when it rains on the weeds and tomato plants alike.