Amazing Grace

“But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.  He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things–and the things that are not–to nullify the things that are…”  1 Corinthians 1:27-28

I didn’t expect anything the least bit amazing. 

It was a typical Sunday, except we were visiting my mother-in-law in Wyoming.  We got up early, dressed, ate breakfast and packed into the car for the one mile trek to the small country church Mom calls home.  The town where she lives boasts a population of 244, though I can’t possibly imagine where they all live.  Only a handful of houses dot the countryside.  Secretly I wonder if someone hasn’t padded the total on that little green sign to make this seemingly insignificant town show up on the map.  I anticipated our family’s presence at church would cause quite a stir, not to mention swell the weekly attendance to quite an impressive total. 

We unenthusiastically filed into the humble building quietly, a futile attempt to remain unnoticed.  Making our way toward the sanctuary, I slowed as we passed a wall of aging photos.  Former church members, now long gone, were captured in black-and-white, smiling at me as if they knew I’d come.  I moved from one to another, absorbing the glowing faces of young and old, evidence of the church’s once vibrant community.  As we proceeded down the center aisle, however, I saw we had multiple seating options.  There were perhaps only a half-dozen other people present when we arrived.  Our family took up one of the many vacant wooden pews.  I surveyed my simple surroundings:   classic wood beams lined the ceiling, matching the carved benches and polished platform.  A piano sat to the side in the front, across from four empty choir benches.  How long it had been since they had been filled with the voices of those in the heirloom photographs?  Looking at the too-empty pews around me, it seemed obvious the church was ineffectual and nearly abandoned.  I anticipated the service was going to be anything but riveting. 

The familiar music began and I searched for a hymnal.  It had been years since I last held a hymnal, but the words came back easily:

Amazing grace! (how sweet the sound)
That sav’d a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears reliev’d;
How precious did that grace appear,
The hour I first believ’d!

Verse one of John Newton’s Amazing Grace (1772) flowed from my lips effortlessly.  I could sing it in my sleep.  Verse two required more thought, though still not a glance at the yellowing page in my hand.  The extra concentration caused me to consider the words more acutely.  Grace.  The one gift that finally laid my choking fears to rest.  The miracle that brought relief and made me to want to live again.  The hope that filled my vacant life with meaning.

Thro’ many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
‘Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.

I felt my throat begin to tighten unexpectedly.  The remembrance of my deliverance from very real toils and snares felt fresh, as if I my rescue had come only that morning.  The words of the next verse were unfamiliar.  I stumbled, then looked down at the ancient text, wondering why I had never noticed the poignant words before: 

The Lord has promis’d good to me,
His word my hope secures;
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

My throat constricted in earnest now.  Yes, YES, Jesus.  YOU are my portion!  The regular dosage of grace I can’t live without!  His Word is my anchor, my hope in something secure, steadfast and unyielding.  He is my lifeline, and I could not make it one day without the hope he brings.  

When we’ve been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise,
Than when we first begun!

I didn’t expect anything the least bit amazing that day.  What I experienced, however, left me breathless.  God showed up in the humble surroundings of a nearly forgotten church.  He spoke his continuing affections to my heart, like a warm and tender whisper in my ear.  I sat in a hardened pew and felt my heart melt again at the miracle of his indiscriminate love.  How very like Him, I smiled to myself.  Like this nameless church with little acclaim, he chooses the lowly, weak, long-since-dead shells of his children in which to dwell.  He fills any doors that are open to Him with an abundant measure of himself.  And with delight, He breathes new life into the sterile walls of any heart longing to live again.  

Amazing Grace.