Grace.

Have I written about grace before?

Probably. And I probably will again, so bear with me.

That would be a form of grace, of course, and I think we could also a little more of it.

—

You’re at a four-way stop. It’s a busy one, during rush hour. You roll to a stop, your mind on the meeting that you are late for, and since nobody is moving, you figure it must be your turn so you pull out.

That’s when the horns honk, the fingers fly and, if looks could kill…well, you’d be a goner.

It was a completely honest mistake. I mean, it’s a judgement call, right? Why’d the guy in the other car lose his mind?

Sheesh. Show a little grace, huh?

You can’t believe he over reacted and treated you that way, so you give him the finger and a dirty look, just because.

—

You’re at a four-way stop. It’s a busy one, during rush hour. You roll to a stop, your mind on the meeting that you are late for, and since nobody is moving, you figure it must be your turn so you pull out. Just as the idiot to your left also decides to pull out.

You had plenty of time to react so you weren’t in any real danger of an accident, but c’mon! Is he blind or just inconsiderate? He’s probably one of those guys who thinks he’s more important than everybody else on the road!

“Where’d you get your license, buddy?! Walmart?!”

You flash the international symbol of disapproval.

—

We live in a world that is quick to judge and slow to forgive.

Four-way stops are the petri dish of the social experiment for grace.

One of many.

Social media amplifies outrage. News outlets reward conflict. Even in our personal lives, we often default to criticism rather than compassion.
Grace has become rare because it costs something: our pride, our sense of being “right,” and our need to win.

We’ve become experts at spotting what’s wrong in others, but amateurs at remembering what God has forgiven in us.

This goes way deeper than road rage, of course.

I remember when I got divorced, and the harsh judgement and lack of grace was palpable from some people, including a few close friends. 20-years later, some of those same people have gone through their own marriage and family struggles, and I think most of them would say they’ve become more graceful.

Receiving grace makes you more likely to extend grace, I think.

But you don’t have to go through a difficult time to show grace to others.

One thing I try to encourage people to do is pause before they pounce. When someone disappoints you, instead of saying “How could they?”, try saying “What must they be going through?”

Ask your self: “If someone saw my worst day, how would I want them to treat me?”

Grace doesn’t say ‘what you did is okay.’ Grace says, ‘you’re still loved, you matter, and you still have a future.’”

All of us need grace. It restores relationships, softens hearts, and disarms anger.
In families, grace stops generational cycles of resentment. In churches, it bridges theological and political divides. In communities, it turns strangers into neighbors.

So, why are we so reluctant to extend it - yet so indignant when it’s not extended to us?

My view of grace is influenced by my Christian worldview. For instance, this from a letter the Apostle Paul wrote to the fellow believers in Ephesus, while he was in prison:

“Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” (Ephesians 4:32)

I believe grace is contagious — but someone has to catch it first.

Maybe that someone is me. And you.