Throne of Grace

Just as I was walking out the door, I saw it — that notice on the counter that reminded me of one of my mistakes, of how I fall short even when I have no idea.  I pushed the thought aside and walked out the door.  A half-hour later, I was driving along, happily headed to a retreat, lifting up the various details of the weekend to the Lord in prayer. Something triggered a thought, and I remembered a conversation I’d had earlier that week. Then suddenly something dawned on me, a new perspective I hadn’t seen before: I realized I’d been a complete idiot.

And I didn’t even mean to be. I thought I was helping, and then I saw it different — how can I be so stupid?

Seriously, people even on my best days I manage to do damage.  It’s a wonder He hasn’t just completely shelved me yet.

Of course, the retreat was great. Yet another reminder of His faithfulness, His love, His sovereignty and perfect timing and amazing power.

He is truly awesome!

But then, there’s me.

I am not awesome. I can’t look anywhere, it seems, but that I see some unpleasant reflection of myself, my daily failures, my lack.

So as I sat in prayer and poured this all out to Him, this one sentence echoed back in my heart:

You’re becoming impressed with Me and not you.

You know that strange way that God crumples you and encourages you all at once? Yeah, that. It’s good and glorious when we echo John the Baptist:

He must increase, but I must decrease. (John 3:30)

[bctt tweet=”He must increase, but I must decrease. (John 3:30)”]

Here’s the thing: What I am discovering in the gospels, all over again, is that Jesus is more glorious, more beautiful, more powerful, for gracious, more awesome and mighty and holy and good, than I had ever realized. I had known it in my head, I am beginning to be convinced. He is the answer for every need, the nourishment for every hunger.

But to come into His presence and discover Him for who He is: we all cry out like Peter:

“Depart from me; for I am a sinful man!” (Luke 5:8)

When Jesus displays His power and glory, Peter sees himself as he truly is.

It’s not elating, it’s disturbing. 

Peter falls on his face, overwhelmed by His utter lack.

Isaiah did the same. In the presence of God’s holiness, the only thing he could mutter was:

“Woe is me! I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips.” (Is. 6:5)

So much for seeking God’s presence to get a little lift; God-encounters usually leave us lower.

So then, how can we live? How can we go on? We must change diapers and do dishes and go through these ordinary days–how can we cope once we’ve seen His profound greatness and our profound emptiness? One word.

Grace.

Grace isn’t a blind eye turned to our naughtiness. Grace is the wondrous fact that we can, fallen and frail as we are, with “confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Heb. 4:16)

His holy throne? The one that puts us on our face? It is a throne …

of grace. 

For those facedown, there is grace.

[bctt tweet=”For those facedown, there is grace. (James 4:6)”]

For those facedown there is confidence, there is joy, there is freedom and love to cover a multitude of sins. There is power to forgive others, there is faith for moving mountains, there is all that we need for life and godliness, found in the knowledge of HIM. At His throne. At His feet.

He is holy, and kind. He is awesome, and gracious. His throne of grace draws us in because despite our despicable nature, petty and fickle as we are, there is mercy and grace in time of need.

“Time of need”?

Yes please, that would be today. And tomorrow, and every day after that.

God’s stream of grace, from the throne of grace, never ends.

{In my utter lostness, I’m finding His greatness. May you drawn near to His throne of grace this week. Thank you so much for reading.}