Lowest Grace

To receive God’s gifts, to live exalted and joy filled, isn’t a function of straining higher, harder, doing more, carrying long the burdens of the super-Pharisees or ultra-saints. Receiving God’s gifts is a gentle, simple movement of stooping lower.

I knew my soul need magnify Him, but of the flesh minimizing?

And I see it then, bent over laundry, that humility isn’t burden or humiliation or oppressive weight, but the only posture that can receive the wondrous grace-gifts of God — God who humbled Himself and came to the feed trough and waits to be seen in light off doorknobs and curve of vases and mound of laundry.

I shake my head, half smile, lay aside her dress because the funny thing is, the moment I try to grasp for humility, she’s gone. Speak of humility, shine a light shaft on her, and she’s shadow-gone in the dark. “Humility is so shy,” writes Tim Keller.^b If I focus on humility, I look inward to assess if I’m sufficiently humble and in the very act, humility darts and I’m proud, self-focused. It doesn’t work. But what humbles like an extravagant gift? And hadn’t I felt that joy of small child-wonder when I paused to give thanks?

The quiet song of gratitude, eucharisteo, lures humility out of the shadows because to receive a gift, the knees must bend humble and the hand must lie vulnerably open and the will must bow to accept whatever the Giver chooses to give.

Again, always, and always again: eucharisteo precedes the miracle. And you’d think I’d know that by now. But I forget. Father never forgets what I am made of, child of dust. The Wounded Warrior is achingly tender with the broken ones and He has all the patient time to gently lead those who seek and He keeps leading me back to eucharisteo.

Is this what is happening as I learn eucharisteo, to be full of grace? I humbly give God thanks for the gifts. I practice eucharisteo. And in that place of humble thanks, God exalts and gives more gifts and more of Himself, which humbles and lays the soul down lower. And good God responds with greater gifts of grace and even more of Himself. And I ride the undulating wave of grace, this lifting higher and higher in grace, the surging crest of joy, and this plunging lower and lower in humble thankfulness only to rise yet higher in grace.

This eucharisteo, it offers the ultimate joyride and I don’t think I ever want to get off. Is this why the oil jars of joy never run dry but endlessly refill? He must increase, and I must decrease — not because that is burden, but so that my joy might increase with more of Him! I kneel down to toss in the laundry.

I set the dial to extra dirty. I stay on my knees and watch the water run into the washer, watch it splash against the circular glass of the washing machine’s front door, hear its gurgling fall. Down it flows.

Down, always down, water runs, always looking for yet lower and lower places to flow. I watch water run and think spiritual water must flow like this … always seeking the lowest places — and the washtub begins to rock. I must go lower. I tell myself this, watching water run. That whenever I am parched and dry, I must go lower with the water and I must kneel low in thanks.

The river of joy flows down to the lowest places.

And here on my knees I can see.

Lord God, today, lead me lower that I may be happier. Gifts are best found and received on bended knee. You are the Infinitely Good God who offers greater gifts of grace and even more of Yourself to those who humble themselves. Today, by Your grace let me ride that undulating wave of grace — going lower to find the lifting higher and higher in grace.