Digging Deeper: His Grace Took My Place

I have a vivid picture in my mind of what I imagine Jesus looked like hanging on the cross. Blood dripped down His arms, His face, and the rest of His body—just hanging there, hanging on for life. I imagine what His cry out to God sounded like—the gut-wrenching cry of a child looking for their father when they’re hurt and desperate for His comfort. I imagine how immensely difficult it was for God to let it happen. To watch His only Son hang there, mocked, whipped, beaten—yet internally unblemished. All for the sake of everyone else’s sins, to offer them forgiveness they didn’t deserve. The very people who mocked Him—He was dying for them, to offer forgiveness and eternal life.

As a parent myself, I can’t fathom allowing that to happen to one of my own children. I can’t imagine not standing up for them when the world is knocking them down. I can’t imagine watching them suffer and not stepping in—sacrificing myself to ease their pain.

This is what I imagine grace looks like. It’s blood, sweat, and tears. It’s hitting rock bottom, feeling alone, not knowing where to turn—and then someone graciously steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

When I was in college, my best friend since second grade and I got into an argument—one that, to this day, I can’t even remember the true reason for. It drove a wedge in our friendship, and we never talked about it again. She moved to a different state, and we physically and emotionally grew apart.

But when she heard that my mom’s breast cancer had come back and hospice had been called in, she—without asking—made the six-hour drive by herself to spend the weekend with me, taking care of my mom. She literally came in with open arms, asking how she could help. She carried my mom’s weak and dying dog to the kitchen sink and gave her a bath. She helped me roll my mom over and change her tattered bed sheets. She went to the grocery store, bought food, and watched me spoon-feed my sweet mother.

It was a vivid picture of grace that I will never forget. In those moments, she was an answered prayer I never thought would walk through that door. That’s grace.

That is the kind of grace I want to walk with in this world—one where I forgive past hurts without question, one where I’m willing to step in when the world feels like it’s crumbling. Where I come in unannounced and can be the hands and feet of Jesus wherever I’m needed.

I pray that as you read these words, you feel challenged to do the same—to embrace the grace you don’t deserve and offer it freely to others, just as God has offered it to you. I pray you are patient, understanding, and forgiving, even when it’s difficult. Look past the faults and flaws of others, just as God looks past yours. I pray your heart will be filled with compassion—and that you can’t help but exude the love of Christ in all that you do.