The Unexpected Grace of God

This past year I learned to love Jesus more by walking through deep loss and finding Christ in that lonesome space, with an embrace abundant in empathy, understanding and solace. 

I did not expect my father to die in 2020. He was one year away from a well-earned retirement, and I was looking forward to seeing him more. In recent years we had reconciled a very difficult relationship from the many years of childhood and adolescent family separation. I was anticipating God’s blessing and favor in continuing to rekindle our bond and love. 

But that’s not how God blessed me. 

In deep loss, we stand at the edge of all we once knew, which previously was a wellspring of hope and confidence, but through loss becomes a deep and troubled water. That wellspring was built on years of God’s faithful nature, showing us what we might expect in the future. That steadfast nature proved time and time again that God is faithful and upholds a covenant of love,  that God satisfies those who thirst for justice , and Christ gives the light of life to those who follow. 

Our expectations can become our own hindrance when, though built on legitimate precedent, they limit the space and possibilities for God’s grace and mercy. In my expectation that God would bless my efforts to reconcile with my father, I extended that hope past the moment of reconciliation and onward for potentially decades of enjoying and delighting in the new-found love I had for him. But what if the grace and mercy of God is simply that we were able to reconcile at all before he died? Is that enough? 

In this wretched journey of grief, I’ve come back time and again to that question of the sufficiency of God’s grace as it is in reality, not as I expect it will be. More specifically, I’ve wondered where we are personally, locally, socially, politically, denominationally, or globally expecting a specific grace with limited and rigid expectations that were not given by the Spirit. 

Jesus is quite familiar with this question and the lonely walk of loss. He wept when Lazarus died, despite having the power to raise him from the dead.  He relinquished his position of privilege in the heavens to enter the world as an infant.  His earthly family questioned his sanity as he began his ministry.  He cried out in his dying moments “my God, why have you abandoned me?” 

We’ve all walked through a valley of loss since the beginning of 2020 where many hopes were dashed, and so much routine and normalcy vanished. We could not see loved ones or gather in fellowship. We were isolated with no clear understanding of when, or if, it would all end. And yet, God’s grace was sufficient even in this, and will be sufficient even in the unexpected of tomorrow. 

Question 

What hopes have you built in your faith that might be limiting your expectation of God’s grace? How might Christ’s journey on Earth guide you in releasing these pillars of earthly hopes that may hinder you from experiencing joy amidst sorrow and hope amidst adversity?

Melissa Weissenberger, Missio Nexus