Rick and Grace

 September 7, 2021

I had no reason to be sad. Linda and I are healthy, we have more than enough of this world’s resources, our marriage is strong. And yet, there is a hazy cloud threatening to obscure the sun. We have so many people in our lives who are struggling. Friends facing life-threatening illnesses, grandchildren growing up in a world gone crazy; if not navigating renewed measures fueled by panic about COVID, our society has decided that gender dysphoria is no longer a psychological aberration, but rather an identity to be celebrated. Friends in other parts of the world are facing hunger and oppression, the news stations blast bad news hourly. Other people’s problems begin to weigh on me.

After awhile, I begin to feel guilty for the blessings God has poured out on me. Jewish folklore tells a story that when God created the world, he started with two great sacks of rocks. One of them broke over Israel. I feel the same way about my blessings: God’s sack broke over me, and it makes me ponder the mystery of grace.

Grace is a hard gift. As someone taught from childhood to work hard and carry one’s share of the load, I’ve often wondered if I were doing enough. Have I wasted time and resources? Have I made the most of whatever gifts God has bestowed on me? Could I, should I have done more? Of course, the answer is that I always fall short. “All have sinned and fallen short,” Paul says in Romans 3:23. No matter how much I try, I will always fall short, which is According to Scripture, where grace kicks in: “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast.”

—Ephesians 2:8-9 

The problem is, emotionally, I tend to live by works. If I’m not accomplishing something, I feel like I’m wasting what God has given me. Living in grace is not easy; It’s one thing to believe in grace; it’s another to actually receive it. All of which leads me to a revelation God gave me today.

Last night as I was pondering some of these matters, Linda asked me what makes me happy. I thought about it, but couldn’t come up with an answer. More stuff doesn’t do it; new experiences are fleeting, accomplishments always fall short, so what makes me happy? This morning I visited my friend Roofer Rick. I’ve known him for twenty five years, walked with him through good times and bad. He is one of the most generous men I’ve ever known. He never had much of this world’s goods, but what he had, he freely shared. He was a loyal friend when friends were hard to come by. Some years ago, during open heart surgery, he had a stroke that paralyzed his right side and left him unable to speak. I try to visit him every week or two, bringing coffee and a donut. In a necessarily one-way conversation, I fill him in on what is happening in my life, tell him once more how much he means to me. I pray for him, say goodbye, and leave. 

Rick has taught me more about faith and grace than anyone I know. He cannot accomplish much of anything these days. The possibility of good (or bad) works is out of the question. But he is to me, a valuable friend. I love him as a brother, not because of what he can do, but for who he is, and has been for me. I came home from visiting him today, able to answer Linda’s question. What makes me happy? Being a friend to Rick does it every time because he reminds me, it’s not about what we can do; it’s all about grace.