We're all essentially bad people. Broken and bad.
And that's why we need a saviour. Someone to redeem us from this deprave state.
But sometimes, we kind of keep things "under control" and we're able to keep our badness to a minimal so that people don't really see it. We sometimes even succeed in making people think, "she's good." Or worse still, we start to think of ourselves, "Hey, I'm not that bad, I must be kinda good."
But we're still essentially bad.
And then out of the blue, out of our controlled character, we do something bad. And everyone sees, and everyone knows. Because like I said, we are essentially - bad.
We say our million and one apologies, try to make things better, wish we could turn back time, regret it over and over again, cringe when we think about it, but nothing really erases what's been done or said.
And that's when the beauty of grace comes sweeping in. When we know we are bad and we do not deserve second chances, when we know we messed up and cannot save ourselves. God comes in. Comes in and gives grace, a second chance to live again.
This grace, did not just appear from thin air. It was given freely to us but at a great cost for the Giver. God, the Giver, gave His one and only Son, Jesus Christ, to die and pay for the due price of our sins that we may be redeemed from our wrongs. Clothing us in His righteousness, God now sees us as good.
And so, despite me being essentially bad and though as long as I'm here on earth, I am still imperfect, I am able to live because of His grace. That is why I try to live unto him, to be more and more like Christ, not because I want to hide my badness (I cannot), but because I understand what grace does. It saves me when I cannot save myself.
This doesn't mean I've got a "GET OUT OF JAIL FREE" card or that I can go on being bad. No, that would be contempt and pride towards God because remember, a price was paid. A price so great, we would not be able to bear it. It should have been me, but Christ took my place.
\\Reflections after Danum Valley (14-16 Oct).
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