Pictures of Grace

This morning I went to New Hope Fellowship, a small church gathering made up of homeless/low income folks who meet at the Green Briar Community Center. What a beautiful picture of grace, freedom and uninhibited worship! I was reminded of the heart of the gospel in a way I have been missing for a long time. There was no pretense here, no social hierarchy games, no need to have it all together… rather a deep, joyful, simple, overwhelming sense of grace.

Mike took a smoke break in the middle of the service.

The girl to the left of me was wearing sweatpants.

A number of people were reading out of turn on the responsive reading.

We sang along with a DVD.

Someone whose name I can’t remember informed me that he was already putting together a sermon for the next time he got a chance to preach. The topic: “We have to be thankful for the little things.”

Baby Madison was to be baptized during this service, so the sermon was on baptism. I couldn’t help but remember the words of my friend Mark from the Boston Rescue Mission as he reflected on his own baptism a few years earlier, “Something about a new beginning sounded good to me...” In a past season of my life, I used to volunteer at the Boston Rescue Mission. I was reminded this morning of how much I miss this kind of environment and further, how much I need to be in this kind of environment - otherwise I’m prone to miss this grace thing completely.

All You Have to do is Call

“Winter, spring, summer or fall, all you have to do is call, and I’ll be there…You’ve got a friend.” – Carole King

In my short, ten-year driving career, I seem to have had more than my fair share of car trouble, which might have something to do with the fact that I’m always driving used cars that are usually at least ten years old. At any rate, living in NH and having car trouble was a pain in the arse, but I always knew there was someone I could call: Dad. I recall a certain 2am phone call after I blew a rod through my engine on the highway. Dear old Dad, my Knight in shining armor, awoke from his slumber and drove an hour and half to come and pick me up.

Now I live in Northern VA, near DC. Sometimes I think about this fact and feel like an incredibly strong, independent, liberated woman out here on my own. And then, inevitably, something will happen – as it did last night – that brings me right back to a place of humility and healthy dependence. Yesterday afternoon my car started acting funny. At first, I thought I’d imagined it, but no, there was definitely a hiccup when I tried to accelerate. Gradually it became more pronounced until my check engine light came on. By now dusk was giving into darkness and I found myself on the side of an unfamiliar road, with no flashlight and no extra oil. What to do? Who to call? My friend, Matt, mechanic extraordinaire, was one of the first names to come to mind. He picked up right away and walked me through several under-the-hood checks in an effort to diagnose the problem. Then he called our friend, Mike, who graciously agreed to pick up some oil (though we later discovered that was not the problem) and come get me. Eventually we got the car home. First thing this morning I received a text from Matt, checking to make sure I made it home ok and letting me know that he was going to get his “card reader” (whatever that is) to help me diagnose the problem.

As I unwind the past day, I can’t help but gather in all the goodness and light in gratitude. It means the world to me to be stuck on the side of the road and know that there are friends I can call.