My name is inappropriate on several levels.

/greɪs/ Show Spellbut mostly just this one: 

grace [greys] noun, verb, adjective: graced, grac·ing, grace·ful

noun: freely given, unmerited favor and love

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Did any of you guys ever play Destiny when you were campers?"

"I did! I converted you when I was 13, Katie Northey."

"Did everyone hear that? Grace Stephenson saved me. Except that's a lie,
cause only God can save people..."

And from the back of the chapel we hear a group of boys shouting,
"SAVED BY GRACE!"

The response from Katie: "Darn you, quick-witted boys..."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Occasionally people make silly puns, or point at me when they sing about grace in church, and I generally dismiss their childish humor. Recently, though, it's been growing, nagging at me-- the actual implications of my name.

What is the power and the legacy of that word-- that name? 

"Oh, what's in a name?"

GRACE

It defines me, but it also gives meaning to something with eternal implications. I have, with increasing intensity, felt unworthy of the name my parents gave me.

Grace.

God's grace.

The completely free and undeserved gift from our Creator to His beloved, albeit sinful, children. This concept saved humanity.
MANKIND HAS BEEN SAVED BY GRACE.
I am a tiny, worthless fleck of dust
when measured against the word that was given to me at birth.

I don't claim any ownership of it. I wouldn't be capable of that... Sometimes I feel a silly burden from it, when I start feeling as though my sin could somehow taint the nonbeliever's image of perfect redemption; if that isn't irony, I don't know what is... I portray the meaning of grace in their eyes, and it has nothing to do with it being my name: I'm sinfully human just like everyone else, the thing that makes a difference is the freely given, unmerited favor and love I receive daily despite my worldliness. My shortcomings only highlight my gracious Savior's selfless love.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Unashamed by Starfield

I have not much to offer You

Not near what You deserve

But still I come because Your cross

Has placed in me my worth

Oh, Christ my King of sympathy

Whose wounds secure my peace

Your grace extends to call me friend

Your mercy sets me free

And I know I'm weak, I know I'm unworthy

To call upon Your name

But because of grace, because of Your mercy
I stand here unashamed

Here I am

At Your feet

In my brokenness,

Complete

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

With something as small as a name tag,
I am carrying around an idea powerful enough to bring me to my knees. 


I feel alienated from it.

dependent upon it.
undeserving of it.

an overwhelming affection and gratitude for it.