I'm sort of at a loss tonight. Good loss, not bad loss. One of those "at a loss" moments where you literally fall to your knees and praise God... because there is simply nothing else to do. School and entertainment and pain and drama and stupidity are lost to the overwhelming tide of grace. There are no words... yet I must speak.
"God did his part, and I did mine," said the theologian.
"Your part? But I thought we couldn't add anything to our salvation?" said the confused congregant.
"Indeed," said the theologian. "God saved me... and I did my best to get in the way."
And despite our feeble efforts to thwart God, He prevails. This is unmistakable... unstoppable... improbable. Yet true. Two years at sea, only to end in a ship wreck. That is the last time that a sailor ever expects to see the light house. The sailor never assumes at that point that he has actually wrecked upon the shore of his hometown. What are the odds? What are the chances?
Slim... and he knows it.
Grace in the unexpected.
And since when IS grace expected? All too often in America, I suppose. The land of hand outs. The land of spoiled bellies and rotting teeth. So grace sneaks in the back door when all our privileges and entitlements have been striped from us. Grace comes like a thief in the night. Death is defeated... someone must sneak in his place.
All you've lost. Your provisions. Your crew. Your ship. Your honor. They mean nothing when you land upon the shore. It matters little that you crashed upon it instead of stepping gently off the dock. You are home. Nothing else matters.
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