the shelf life of grace

this past week i was in los angeles, leading a spring break mission trip for some of our students. for the second year in a row, we worked with an organization called center for student missions. csm has been operating in major urban centers for over 20 years, supporting existing ministries while providing outside groups with an opportunity to serve. they are great at what they do, and one of my favorite parts is called a breakfast search, where you are dumped in downtown la, given $3 per person for breakfast, and instructed to find somebody you can share a meal with.

dustin, kysha and i ran into john outside of mcdonald's. your stereotypical homeless man (matted hair, dirty clothes, pungent smell) he asked us if we had any money, and gladly accepted our offer to buy him breakfast. we bought him the breakfast special, two sausage egg mcmuffins for three dollars, and met him back outside. we were a little disappointed when he told us he would rather take the food and run than eat with us, but about the same time vern walked up.

the first thing vern did was add an unexpected order of hash browns to john's breakfast, before greeting us with a smile and an outstretched hand. according to his stories vern is an ex-navy seal who did five tours in vietnam, an estranged husband to two wives and an absent father to at least 8 kids, and an out of work carpenter who came to long beach three months ago to bury his mother. what struck me the most, however, is something he said when he gave the visible remainder of his food (little bit sized cinnamon rolls) to john 5 minutes later. "you are a generous man," i remarked. "well, i try to pass my blessings," vern said. "they weren't meant just for me."

this event pushed up against something i had realized late in the week before, that i am continually checking the expiration date on my grace. i treat it as some time sensitive dairy product, perpetually worried it has spoiled or gone rotten, that i have somehow lost what was given. some days it seems more natural to feel this way, and yet most days i realize i have more than enough.

our whole family continues to receive tremendous care and support from a myriad of sources. given our surplus, the question then becomes how do we pass our blessings. this grace is not meant to be stockpiled or hoarded, but to be given away to the extent of extravagant waste. when we try to close our hands around it we find it as manna stinking and full of maggots. i want to help isaac understand how much he has been given, and that being faithful with that means passing it along. in order for him to learn that lesson though, i feel like i need to figure out how to do it first.