I don’t always wear grace.
Often I wear judgement. It’s a comfortable shawl on my shoulders. I clothe myself in a sheath of self righteousness and righteous indignation.
A look. A sneer. I could give the most Pharisaical a run for their money. I wear a badge of grace, but in my heart I pass deadly judgement.
I’ve learned through these eight months of grace meditation just how depraved I am. How judgment rises some days with every breath. How sin lurks in the crevices on my being.
And I wonder how God could love me. Jesus’ greatest enemies were self righteous. Men who’s legalistic lives, regulated their tithe down to the tenth of their spices. Who couldn’t see the joy in a man healed but were more concerned with their fabricated letter of the law, rather than the intended spirit of the law.
While my judgements may not necessarily be in the legalistic Christian vein, seeing their attitudes endeavors me to shout from my tippy toes: “this is me. i’m a pharisee. i don’t live the life of grace i claim to!“
But also shame and guilt beckon me to dark shadows, because dark shadows are comfortable when you realize your sin.
I, obviously, don’t want to live this way, where my righteous indignation makes self righteous judgements about how you should live, act, dress, etc.
This choice to live like Christ is one that is easier said than done.
So, this morning I ask God to clothe me in His grace. That prayerfully it will seep into my fibers and become like breathing.