Grace and peace to you on this fine day.

(Yesterday on the blog: On the Changing of the Dictionaries)
The Same Old Faces
“A new friendship is a wonderful beginning, fresh and exciting and full of potential, like the planting of a new tree. Don’t we all naturally long for relationship? To know and be truly known? To love and be truly loved, in spite of being truly known? Of course we do. But…”
I Can’t Put Them Down Yet
Brianna has a sweet reflection on motherhood and worship.
Grant Me One Muslim Friend
Here’s a prayer you may do well to pray—and a prayer God may well be eager to answer.
This Isn’t What I Asked For!
Sylvia Schroeder: “This past Christmas might have confirmed what we knew all along. Many of the things we want most don’t come wrapped in beautiful packages. While  holidays wind down and stores fill with red hearts, we realize, Christmas couldn’t give what we desired most. And we beg God for more.”
How Guilt and Shame Can Bring Us Closer to God
“When Adam and Eve rejected God’s goodness and authority by eating the forbidden fruit, their eyes were opened and they suddenly recognized that they were naked. This new, hyper-self-conscious reality set in motion a series of actions, each one a strategy to hide the shame that they felt over what they had done.”
Steadfast Hope in Seasons of Suffering
Donna offers some ways to remain steadfast in hope during the most difficult seasons of life.
Flashback: 5 Reasons We Eat Together as a Family
I was in sociology class when the teacher asked this: How many people here eat dinner as a family at least twice a week? Two of us put up hands—me and the only other Christian in the class.

Toil is the price of success. To loiter is to lose all; to falter is to fail. —J.R. Miller

We all know people who don’t know the Lord and, therefore, we all know what it is to plead for their salvation. This prayer by Philip Doddridge is drawn from Tim Chester’s new collection Into His Presence and gives words that can perhaps guide you in your prayers of supplication.

Almighty God, with you all things are possible. To you therefore I humbly apply myself on behalf of this dear immortal soul, this person who is perishing in their sins, and hardening themselves against that everlasting gospel which has been the power of God to the salvation of so many thousands and millions.
Oh, that after all their hardness and impenitence, you would still be pleased, by the sovereign power of your effectual grace, to awaken and convert them! You who made the soul can cause the sword of conviction to enter it. Oh, that in your infinite wisdom and love you would find a way to intervene, and save this sinner from death, from eternal death! You know, O God, they are a dying creature. You see a moment marked in the book of your decrees which will seal them up in an unchangeable state. Oh, that you would lay hold on them while they are still part of the living! Oh, let your sacred Spirit work while they are still within the sphere of his operations.
Work, O God, by whatever method you choose; only have mercy upon them so they do not sink into the depths of damnation and ruin, on the very brink of which they so evidently appear. Oh, that you would bring them, if that be necessary, and seem to you most expedient, into any depths of calamity and distress. Glorify your name, O Lord, and glorify your grace, in the method which your infinite wisdom shall deem most expedient. Only grant, I pray you, with all humble submission to your will, that this sinner may be saved.
To him who has loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, and has made us kings and priests to God, to him be glory and dominion for ever and ever.
Amen.

It fascinates me how the most beautiful thing can also be the most offensive thing. The world knows nothing more beautiful than grace, than favor that is undeserved, unmerited, and freely granted. Yet so often the world responds to grace with spite and anger, with revulsion and unbelief.
There’s a great example of this in the book of 2 Kings. There we learn about the mighty and noble Naaman, commander of the army of Syria. This man is mighty and noble, he is respected and favored, he is a hero of his generation. But he is also a leper. Naaman learns that in Israel there is a prophet and he appeals to that prophet—to Elisha—for a cure. Elisha sends his servant to pass along a message: “Go and wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored, and you shall be clean” (2 Kings 5:10). Yet, surprisingly, Naaman responds to these words with fury. Why would he be so furious? Why would he reject this gracious offer of a cure?
On one level, I’m sure he was angry that he had been spoken to by a mere servant instead of a great prophet, something he would have received as a grave insult. But then I’m certain he was also angry that the solution was so unexpected, so simple, so gracious.
Over the years, I have seen many people show interest in the Christian faith. They listen respectfully when they are told about humanity’s problem with sin—they nod their heads and admit, “Yeah, I have done some bad things.” And they may continue to listen with interest as they are told about Jesus dying for the sins of sinful humanity. “What a great man,” they may say. And perhaps they’ve even asked, “What would I need to do to become a Christian?”
They’ve been told the wonderful truth: “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved” (Romans 10:9). Yet they’ve responded like Naaman. They scoffed or rolled their eyes or just walked away altogether. Why?
Because grace is so offensive. Because they expected they would be told to earn their salvation—and they wanted to earn their salvation. They didn’t want to receive it by grace but to earn it by works. They wanted their salvation to be deserved instead of undeserved. They wanted it to be merited instead of unmerited. And so instead of accepting Christ they rejected him and instead of receiving his salvation, they spurned it.
He would rather die than receive grace.Share
I think that if Elisha had told Naaman to do something hard and heroic, he would have gladly done it. If he had been told to climb a mountain or swim a sea or fight a dragon, he would have embarked on so noble a quest. He would have labored to prove himself worthy and able. But he was told to do something simple. He was told to receive without earning. He was told to accept without meriting. And it turns out he would rather die than receive grace.
In his own way, Naaman did what so many of us did when we first heard of grace—we rejected it. But God did for Naaman what he did to so many of us—he pursued us and drew us back. He saved us and drew him in. He rescued us and drew him to himself. He did it all because he is a God of love, a God of mercy, and a God of grace.