I listened careful while he stood up there and talked about cheap grace like cheap perfume and thought to myself just how cheaply we treat the grace of God. The same God who died on a cross and championed the grave just to show us deep grace. To show us a love that could never be matched, not even for a single moment with a single person, because none could even fathom the love of a Savior made human.

I listened careful because it would soon be our turn to walk up there and chat real quick about the birth of a Savior who would bring us such deep personal joy we couldn’t hold it in anymore. Like a woman convicted and freed from sin pouring expensive perfume on the dirtied feet of her God. We couldn’t care less who was around, what they’d say or what they’d do {there’s a difference between cheap and expensive perfume}… how could we hold it in anymore. Except, I cannot stand to speak into microphones or watch lights beam directly on me. I gulped something near the size of a squirrel down my throat. I think that’s called fear, perhaps even doubt? My left knee seems to take it the worst and shakes near uncontrollably while I remind myself; in my weakness {perhaps even weak knees} His strength is made perfect. And I just wanted His words because I’m a wreck all on my own and I just need to represent what he’s given to me so sweetly… my heart swelled.

And I listened careful while he spoke about grace while flashes of a shame-ridden son walks slow to a father running quickly forgetting his honor, forgetting those faults, forgetting to breathe because, praise God, his son is coming home. Like young men and women running towards the corners of streets where girls smoke weed to feel free while they wink to strangers in lust-filled need and we’ve just come to give gifts, to show love, to pay forward His great grace. To remember this time when a Savior came down in deep love to show grace to a world full of need; and how here on earth where we need it so badly do we treat this awesome gift so poorly. How do we cheat ourselves so sorely from this grace that runs deep in a Father to be given freely to His sons and His daughters- to you my friend, and to me. And yes it’s free but it comes with a cost because grace isn’t given to be kept in your heart so silent. Because grace when you’ve felt it, and I know you have felt it, just simply cannot be kept in unless you chose to live cheaply by selfishly keeping it all in.

I’d heard this recording on an album I love and though I agree with most of what this man says about grace, he mentions that if you’re not giving grace out that you couldn’t possibly have experienced grace. I don’t agree with that. I think we’re so chalk full of graces that we never once deserved, and we keep them to ourselves and throw pity parties when those graces seem to disappear. We’re like toddlers with toys who don’t care to share. In fact, we sometimes go to great lengths to keep toys, or grace to ourselves. We’re full of it if we think we’d never received grace from The One who conquered the grave.

Let me tell you one thing. When you receive the grace of Christ with a heart positioned deep in the waters of humility, you want to get out sopping wet and hug everyone around you just to get it all over them too. Grace, my friends, isn’t cheap. It isn’t too expensive either; when you begin to receive and then give grace outwards, you begin to feel something from the heavens so great you’d wished you’d always shared his good grace. You change {that is what God is in the business for, right}, and you begin to point people in the right direction. Like a crazy little circle grace continues flowing to and from you, producing a wealth of giving grace, mercy and love. And when you’ve fallen madly in love, nothing is ever, ever too expensive.

I forgot a majority of what I wanted to say with that stupid microphone in my hand… I need to start writing things down. But while we talked about justice {which is really us doling out grace, mercy and love where it’s been shamed and taken away}, and opportunity for people to invest in sons and daughters coming home, I near wept at the beauty of Jesus’ true grace. The opportunity I have to go show others even a portion of what Christ has given me.

I don’t know where everything left off after that celebration of the son coming home. I suppose the message of the story is great grace and love. But I’d love to think that wayward son began discovering the beauty in not taking grace and cheaply disregarding it as he did his fathers inheritance, but rather began to see how beautiful it is to pour it onto others when he himself would receive it. I’d like to think he continued to remember the great grace and wild love of his father. I’ll dream he began to dream up ways to get back to that pig pen, all those women and places he’d spent grace like cheaply disregarding inheritance, just to show what true grace does… like pictures of an old man laughing and running down an old dirt road, removing his honor, forgetting even to breathe because, praise God, his son is coming home.