It’s Thursday night. 7:09 p.m. on this coast.
This means it’s time to join the Five Minute Friday crowd fearlessly led by the lovely Kate. Tonight we are all whispering.
I am thankful that God does not whisper the message.
His grace is loud, daring, bold, significant, declarative. His grace hung on a cross and bled for the world.
Yet I am also thankful that His grace gives me the ability to cease striving. To stop being loud.
I need not seek approval. I need not have all the right words. Instead of screaming at the world, begging for notice, I can walk through life in quiet. Even in a whisper. Content to move in and out, around and through. My identity is not found anything here and now.
The brashness of God’s grace turns me into a whisper, something here for but a moment, moving toward something more. There is a depth of significance here that I cannot define. Those who ache screech, trying to fill the void. Those who are full – full of grace, full of the Spirit – walk in peace.
The amazingness of God’s grace stops me from even the barest whispering, for I know that I cannot answer the definitive act of history with anything more than a bowed head and raised hands.
God booms so that I don’t have to.