God shows his love to us through his grace, and grace is an essential ingredient in a strong marriage. If we want a marriage that filled with grace, there are some practical applications we can focus on. Here are six of them.
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Sure, we can get outward compliance by shaming our kids, but that is all that it will be. Shame is not the same as repentance. It’s grace that brings about a heart change. I love the practical example, above, from Elyse, which shows what applying grace to our parenting can look ike in daily life. Here’s another example,
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There once was a man named John. He was born in London, in 1725. His father was the commander of a merchant ship that sailed in the Mediterranean. Little is known about his mother, except that she taught John what he knew about God. She died when John was young. At the age of eleven, John began sailing on long voyages with his father
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This morning, after days of heavy rain, the sun appeared. I went for a run through the forest. Sunlight filtered through a thick vapor that was billowing off the mossy tree trunks. The water droplets on the tips of the pine needles and leaves appeared as thousands of tiny glittering diamonds. It was so beautiful, tears came to my eyes
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I’ve been a church girl my whole life. There was a time when I thought of the message of the gospel as something that I didn’t need to hear anymore, something that maybe other people needed to hear, particularly if they weren’t Christian yet- but if it came up in church, in boredom, I’d let my mind wander. What good did hearing it again do for me? I was already saved.
“We have spoken freely to you Corinthians; our heart is wide open. You are not restricted by us, but you are restricted in our own affections. In return I speak as to children, widen your heart also!” 2 Corinthians 6:11-13
True, I was a Christian, saved by grace, but a very immature one, and I was wrong about the message of the gospel. The message of the gospel is not just a message of one time salvation or a ticket to heaven.
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I walked with a group of about fifty children, ages 2-16, through the cobbled village streets of Săvârșin on a summer evening in 1992. We were on our way to the soccer field/cow pasture, to play with the summer camp orphans. It was just after dinner. Tea, dry bread, and an oily “beef” soup (where was the beef?), had not satisfied my hunger, and I hungrily eyed the chickens placidly pecking about in the tidy garden off the side of the path. There must be eggs somewhere in this village, I thought. There sure weren’t any in the camp dining room, nor on the empty shelves of the market. I accepted and ate a sour crabapple, picked off a nearby tree, from six-year-old Nadia.
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