Snowing Grace

There was a time when I hated snow. When flakes started falling, I wanted to cry. It wasn't a very long period of life, but it was right after an epic tropical island experience, so I guess it would count as culture shock. When I look back on it now, it's hard to imagine. I was living in Wawona, in Yosemite National Park. Seriously, what was I complaining about?

I tried to make the best of it: dug out a decent-sized snow-fort; hiked around with improvised snow-shoes I created out of tree branches (which didn't work well, actually); built a snow-frog; a couple of snowball fights; sledding; even skiing as a sponsor with the local tiny public school. I basically made myself have fun. I guess watching layers pile on layers made me feel like I was locked in a world that would never melt, with limited access to life off the mountains--even just the basic civilization of Oakhurst. To me, the snow was just a big pile of coldness getting in the way of my freedom--and warmth.

Thankfully, I've had a change of heart. True, it's easier to love since my work gives me days off when it snows a little extra. But it's more than that. Snow is no longer just something that slows me down or gets in the way.

Instead, snow is a picture of grace. It covers the dirty and drab, and transforms it into a true wonderland. The hard edges are softened, the bare is blanketed, the boring becomes beautiful. The darkness is lighter, and the light is even brighter. It arrives gently and softly, and leaves reluctantly.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about what makes Christians different than the rest of the world? And I've come to this: the grace, righteousness, and new life God offers us through Jesus and His Cross. He covers our sins. We are "whiter than snow." 

Somehow, as a human race, we mostly miss this stunning reality. We see this grace as something to be pushed aside, out of the way, thinking we're more liberated, maybe even safer without it. We work so hard to get rid of it, thinking that real progress is made only if we can control it and measure it and put our own sweat into it. But we're really shoveling away the gift that could totally transform us.

As I've been listening to friends of other faiths describe their spiritual journey, I see God's grace written all over their lives and their stories. He is clearly involved. But I also hear their desire and striving for perfection, and I can relate. I may be Christian, I may be Adventist, but I've shoveled away grace with the best of them. But I've been slowly learning the value of Jesus, and putting my faith in His being enough. I'm learning to stop trying to fix myself, and instead let Him cover me with His purity. To stop striving, and start resting.

My prayer for me--for you, for my friends of different faiths--is that we will let this "snow-grace" fall on us, bury us, purify and beautify us. That in Jesus, we become glorious--like Him.