GraceNotes Podcast

Have you ever listened to a dull and tired song—only to be stirred and thrilled when it reprised in some new, higher key?  Then you know something of the grace of God, whatever else your story tells.  Grace comes to us as unexpected joy when our performance, short or long—had lifted neither us nor anyone around us. We were muddling through the music, vocalizing rote notes and mangling the lyrics....

When most of what we read and see is governed by some soulless algorithm built to anger us or sell us something—it’s hard to know if joy is real, if love is kind, if gentle words are really meant to bless.  And yet joy lingers, gentleness persists, and tens of millions of times a day, someone whispers “I love you” to a child, a spouse, a friend, a former enemy.    This is true for both those who d...

“He’s so much better than I am,” we say, proving just how little we know of someone else’s life. “She’s a saint,” we say admiringly, assuming that the woman we can see is always just as good as we imagine. We assign a top-notch grade to behaviors we observe, and make assumptions that the life consistency we can’t achieve is somehow available to others. But grace reminds us of the brokenness we sha...

Going underground is one of humanity’s oldest responses to fear, war, or pestilence. Archaeologists have uncovered vast subterranean cities, carved out by those who believed that living in the light made them vulnerable. Victims of persecution, fugitives—even families fleeing natural disasters or climate shifts—all chose to dwell where only torches and flickering lamps could pierce the darkness. B...

“I just can’t catch a break,” he sighs, watching floodwaters climb five feet up the walls of his ruined home. “I’ve got plenty of luck,” she weeps over the crumpled fender of her old Toyota. “It’s just all bad.” The weary chorus of this world is a dirge about how little control we truly have. Medical bills crush us. Friendships we cherish grow distant and cold. The machines on which our lives depe...

Most of us inherited a God no kinder than we were—a deity whose major role seemed meting out tough penalties for willful or impetuous mistakes. Like primitive believers everywhere, we read His displeasure in thunderstorms, bruised knees, and lost puppies—for was there anything for which we weren’t somehow to blame? So it is that finding grace is the great unlearning of our past, the sweet and joyf...

Ever thought of running away from God? Like naive children in moments of hot shame and brokenness, we imagine there’s some deeply-hidden spot where what we’ve done cannot be seen, where we can huddle with our guilt. Perhaps in some dark mountain cave. Perhaps beneath the blankets of our bed. Perhaps beneath the cellar stairs. But God—and grace—are inescapable, and our most private hiding spots are...

Sometimes through the dust and smoke, we trace the features of a friend—someone whose rich, remembered kindness soothes the soul and calms the turbulence. We hold on to such people for good reason: they have held us—gripped us, even—when the world seemed topsy-turvy and every voice was loud. They were—they are—God’s grace in human form, a bit of heaven lingering to give us hope and get us through....

What is the speed of trust? It’s an odd question, since rapid acceleration and safe, human connection seem antithetical—moving in opposite directions. And there’s the point—and the reason we don’t attempt lasting friendships while driving Formula 1 cars, in the backstretch of an 800-meter race, or while racing each other to the top of the corporate ladder. Speed implies competition, a desire to be...

We come naturally by our self-absorption. From our earliest moments, we’re congratulated for taking first steps, trying new foods, mastering new skills, for learning how to navigate the myriad complexities of an ever-widening world. The story is, and has always been, about us—our goals, our striving, our gaining, our getting. But then one day the world refused to be our private oyster.  There was...

Grace isn’t fully knowable inside the monuments we’ve built. Our finest structures merely hint at what the Scriptures call the “breadth and length and height and depth” (Eph 3:18) of love the Father gives us. Cathedral arches just suggest the soaring kindness of our God. Our well-stocked libraries of knowledge—comprehensively collected; exquisitely curated—tell but a fraction of the story, deeper...

We dream of exploits that ensure our fame—of fortunes gained or mountains climbed or roles where we control the lives of other, lesser mortals. We gather things—disposables—to fill the hole made urgent by our angry greed. But we would gladly trade them all to be two modest, undramatic things at once: both deeply loved and finally forgiven. No accolades or billions earned will ever soothe a heart t...

It’s every parent’s greatest joy to see a child at play—freely, joyously at play. And children—of whatever age—only play when they understand they’re safe—deeply, seriously safe. We don’t play on battlefields, in lightning storms, or when we doubt we’ll ever see tomorrow. And so the God of Scripture frequently must wait until we’ve outlived our fears before we grasp the fullness of His affection....

Learning grace is slow and hard the way recovery of any kind is usually slow and hard. When a bone is broken or a muscle torn, no supply of godly wishing can speed the pace at which the healing happens. This moment’s not for optics, not for show: nothing less than patient, cellular recovery can make us whole again. And so no project that contemplates the complete overhaul of our personal theology,...

Ah, to be the wounded one—the one who gets to be the powerful forgiver.  We covet this rare role because we’re usually more sinning than we’re sinned against.  And when it comes our turn to show the grace once given us, we linger with the choice, as if it were a heavy thing to pardon what’s been done. We can’t, of course, refuse forgiveness outright:  Jesus tied our own forgiveness to the habit of...

“Forgive me,” we say flippantly, painting on a shallow smile, when we discover we are misaligned with someone greater or more powerful—someone who might make us hurt. We view our error lightly—just a minor inconvenience—and we hope the one offended will quickly do the same. Why do the humbling work of owning all that happened and acknowledging its impact? But true forgiveness is a thoughtful, time...

Wherever grace is welcomed and received, joy follows, just as daylight follows dawn. And so we can read backwards from so many grayed-out, joyless souls to learn how few have heard and loved and lived the gospel. All fearful, anxious following of Jesus—all dim preoccupation with the things we've done or left undone—reveals that we are still in darkness, wrestling with the shadows Jesus rose to van...

In every soul who has ever been healed, conviction rises that they must tell the story of how God’s goodness rebuilt a broken body or a wounded spirit.  Bones got mended; diseases conquered; mobility advanced; relationships renewed. When grace restores what pain has taken, “Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has...

My pride is stung. My spirit’s wounded. The untrue, unjust thing that someone said, that someone wrote, went viral with unheard-of speed, fanned on by evil angels. And rising with the bitter righteousness of bile, the fantasy of sweet revenge becomes more urgent every hour. “Strike back!” say Truth and Justice. “Set the twisted record straight. Unmask the gossiper for who he is, for what she wrote...

If you revisit all the beaches where you built sandcastles in the sun, chances are, you’ll never even find a one.  The constant pull of wash and wave reduces all the outposts where we once asserted sovereignty. Our turrets and our towers, our moats and battlements have long since lost the struggle to insist on what was never really ours. And so it is as grace subdues the castles of our pride and s...

It’s the most famous line ever written about grace by an author not recorded in God’s Word: “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.” Every week, around the globe, it’s sung and said uncounted times, bringing joy and certainty to billions of believers. Whole lives are built on this. But the lived reality of grace requires that we move beyond the first person voice, and gra...

Savoring the creamy richness of delectable milk chocolate. Settling into the plush leather of a luxury car. Dangling your feet in the stunningly blue water of a South Pacific lagoon. What do these very different life experiences have in common? Each is richly imaged for us by adroit advertisers who correctly sense how desperately we seek relief from everyday hecticity. We need something to break t...

What is it in our restless hearts that cannot graciously receive a gift? A friend invites us to a grand, delightful meal, and even before dessert is served, we’re busy evening the score. We fail to taste the kindly moment because we’re painfully obsessed with making certain our account with one we call a friend is “balanced”—even though it is a dinner spread and not a spreadsheet gleaming in the c...

What makes the light of Easter last long past the hymns and lilies? The ground beneath our feet has moved. The grim, unshaken certainties of loss and grief and toil and death have finally succumbed—and to such stunningly good news: “For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Cor.15.22). Our muddied tale of violence and pain has yielded in a burst of light that stubbornly...

In the blackness of Sunday morning, the prodigal opened His eyes and murmured softly, “I will arise and go to my Father, and will say to Him, ‘Father, I have borne the sins of every human who has ever lived. I am worthy to be called your Son.’” And a reunion postponed for 33 years split the midnight of our world. Out of wretchedness came joy. Out of brokenness came healing. Love triumphed over dea...