It all seems so simple, so true, so right.
For one who was taught Christianity's tenets from childhood. And then then strayed from them, rebelled against them and finally rejected them altogether.
Perhaps it was an incomplete education or maybe, being young and easily distracted, I forgot to pay attention. I don't recall hearing about God's absolute undeniable sovereign control over everything in His creation.
Life's blessings, yes, but life's bumps, bruises and heartaches? Life itself and its maddening pursuit of happiness (read self-gratification), but sickness and death?
I began to be angry at God. And since I had been taught that I could choose God (Jesus) or not, at age 23 I chose NOT.
Oh I came back eventually. The prodigal son, I viewed myself, and God so tickled that I had decided to come home.
Then one cold, stormy rage-filled evening, one of those flashes of lightning revealed to me for the first time: me. Me as God saw me, selfish, bitter, controlling and full of anger.
What could I do but cry out, "God save me?"
Grace. Unmerited favor. You can't deserve it. You can't earn it. Otherwise it would be something else besides grace.
I needed that saving grace. And I need grace every day. For I know the inclinations of my heart. I know the idols that linger there. I know what gives me the desire and strength to tear them down. Little by little and day-by-day as I pray for God's kingdom to come in my heart.
Grace. Alone. The Reformers called it Sola Gratia. Paul says my very faith (and all that flows from it) is a gift of God's grace (Ephesians 2:8-10).
To God alone be the glory.