Jesus told his children to pick up their crosses and follow him. The very object that he called us to spend our lives shouldering is a symbol of forgiveness and grace. God's church was built out of the lives of twelve men who named murder, pride, deception and thievery among their litany of sins. Not to mention our roots with the ancient peoples of Israel who out and out rejected God, killed his prophets and danced around gods hewn out of their own jewelry. But God persisted. He created ways to love and redeem a people so bent on not knowing him. And in the wake of this redemption story he fashioned a community of broken believers and called it church.

For years this has been a sanctuary for God's people and a friend numbered herself among us until recently. Then, without much noise, she put an end to a twenty-year habit. She walked out of the church. She candidly told me that she didn't think she could know God due to the sins and confusion in her life. She asked me if I thought that a girl like her was allowed to love God and be with him in heaven someday. And I cried. Wept for her pain and grieved for the way the face of Christ has been distorted.

Be assured that I am confident that sinners are free to love God. Free to love God in the same way that men and woman have loved God since the beginning of time and will continue to until the time is his time and he returns for our broken bodies and weary hearts. He came for sinners. And again, I am certain that a sinner can be with God forever. Neither our actions, passions, religion, fervor, delusions nor our pleadings compel God's love to stick to our cold, skinny hearts. It's the utter otherness of the love of God that motivates itself, begins the process, sees it through and is matchless to anything of "love" we can imagine. Love is not a reward, but a gift. A gift that flows in a fashion so un-stingy that we would weep if our eyes were open wide enough to see the hand of God.

My friend lives caught in a struggle created by some of the most horrific sins one man can commit against another. Her childhood and adolescence were riddled with scenes of assault and unimaginable pain. She lives her life within the limits of these chains. Indeed, she often chooses poorly. She's reckless and self-centered. Her ability to give is muted by her need. She's not always nice nor is she honest. She pours handfuls of guilt, like salt, over the cuts, tears and lesions of her brokenness.

Her assurance that God is angry with her is undaunted. She points to the shambles of her life and even the sins committed against her own body and soul that she had no power to prevent. My friend focuses here and claims that God is enraged. And like a broken record I repeat words of hope to a girl who has a deficit for good news…"God is not angry with you. He loves you. I am assured that God aches for the sins done against your body and soul. I am also assured that God rushes out oceans of grace to enable you to live your life with the tools you have and wounds you carry." But her brain has been rewired and only messages of hate stick. She can't even imagine that the God who created her understands her pain and confusion. And my greatest fear is that it was us, the church, who convinced her that she was not good enough for grace and forgiveness…or love. May we never make Grace cheap but also may we not make it scarce, fleeting and exclusive. My friend reminds me how precious is the gift of grace, be it from God or a girl like me.

And I'm grateful that the grace of God has deeper pockets and less fine print than the grace I've been able to pass along to the wounded among us or even spread over the wounds within me. I am humbled by God's grace. Humbled in such a way that my life begins to change by the very magnitude of this gift that has become heavenly wealth in the currency of earth. And if you need it, know it will come. Wait for it. Sometimes grace weaves its way slowly, it finds its entrance through cracks and crevices we thought we had long ago sealed. And in moments grace tumbles in like the vast oceans that wash over the earth. And it sets us free, one sin stained strand at a time.

Because grace, after all, is amazing. And the cross tied up every last string and strand that sin left undone. Grace is not cheap. God had to weave a whole redemption story and then punctuate it with the life of his son. It is finished, a gift awaiting our acceptance. And a gift that once received changes hearts, hands and hope.

Let its waters rage into you, let the healing flow through you and finally, let this precious stream pour from you into the lives of others. Into lives that seem strange and distant, across hearts that are covered with skin that doesn't match your own and into hands that carry food stamps and vouchers instead of monthly paychecks. Into souls that survive at a level that terrifies you. Minds so wounded that even their attempts at goodness are wracked with sin. Bodies that live the less of two evils because they can do no more.

This is where grace must find its home. For the grace we find is often the grace we give…and the grace we give is bound to increase into the grace we receive.