It scares me sometimes. The responsibility I have. Sometimes celebrating Life seems hard. I strain to glimpse Glory and it seems as if nothing’s there. Sometimes I wake up and the world seems dark and the air chills me. And I want to stay in the warm burrow of my bed. When I’m there, no one expects things of me.
But the absence of expectation itself is dark and cold. My soul desires expectation. Nature and nurture gave me my standards and I have to live by them. Or feel empty and useless. And I try. I really do. We’re taught by the world that trying is enough. But the more I see of the world, the less I believe it. Aside from the fact that I believe in Grace, of course.
I find it amazing that people believe that trying is enough. ‘Trying doesn’t work,’ I want to cry, ‘Don’t you see all the people who have tried and failed?’ All the sad people, the ill people, the destitute people. They tried. It goes without saying that trying is good. But it’s simply not good enough.
And that’s why Grace is there. If we could have peace and fellowship with the Creator by trying, if we could truly celebrate Life without him, would he have sacrificed his Son? He has his standards too. They’re so much greater than mine that I can hardly even begin to grasp them. But I know they’re there. And I give thanks to God for his standards. I thank him because he is The Standard. And the more I look to The Standard, the more I see Grace.