Grace. It is rather difficult to talk about Grace as a thing, a tool. Particularly as there is nothing transactional about Grace, and you can’t earn it or become undeserving of it. Grace what we exhibit when we choose to give others (or ourselves) the benefit of the doubt. Grace is the antithesis of mean-spiritedness. It’s the opposite of quid pro quo. And in that way it is like a Bird Feeder. You don’t fill the bird feeder because you want something from the birds. You don’t fill the bird feeder because you want to lure in the sparrows so you can cook them for dinner.
There are no negatives here, just positives: You put out the bird feeder because you wish them well.
Amongst human beings, we fill and hang the Bird Feeder of Grace all the time. I’m certain that there are plenty of times when you are kind to people, even when they haven’t “deserved” it simply because, well, it’s fairly delightful to be gracious when we can be. I’m glad that Grace keeps on happening. Here’s the how and why of making it happen a little (a lot) more.
Let’s say you’ve asked your spouse/teenager/roomate to cook dinner and you come home from work and… nothing. It would be rather natural for a lot of people to throw up their hands in disgust and say, “You didn’t cook dinner? You’re so inconsiderate. What, you want me to do all the work around here?” (Or not to say these things, but to think them and for your resentment to fester and fester and fester!) It’s natural to feel hurt and let down and over-worked and under-appreciated. Not to mention hungry. And sometimes it might even be a reasonable thing to tell someone that they are being inconsiderate.
Grace doesn’t mean letting anyone walk over us. So, sure, get mad. Stick up for yourself if you need to. If you’ve asked them to pull their weight with cooking several times and they keep on not cooking, it might be perfectly reasonable to throw your hands up in the air and stomp around a little. Maybe even angrily wave a spatula, and say, “From now on, buster, you can just starve!”
However…
Since we always want to look both ways before driving through the STOP signs of life, it can’t hurt to acknowledge the lack of supper but also feeding a bit of gracious curiosity into the situation. We can always get mad later. Before getting mad, we might want to perch on the Bird Feeder of Grace for a second.
First, we might want to ask something like, “Hey, did something set you back? I thought you were on dinner tonight?”
Sure, if you’re me, you’ll probably just answer with, “I forgot until about five minutes ago, I just took out the chicken from the freezer.” Or, “Sorry. I do not feel like properly cooking. Can I make some grilled cheese sandwiches and soup for us?”
But it’s also possible that your spouse/roomate/teenager has a valid reason, a good reason for not having dinner on. Maybe the water heater broke down and the basement is a lake. Or something went wrong with a family member and they were helping with that. The long and short of it is, we strive to lead with Grace because it’s often not only what the situation needs, but also because if you charge in, waving your spatula, well now you’re being inconsiderate.
Besides, being curious and graceful feels a lot better than indignant rage. Hard to believe because indignant rage feels so good (at least for a second), but it’s true: dipping into the Bird Feeder of Grace feels even better.
…
I was behind a Ford Fiesta at a red light yesterday. Light turned green. And still, that Ford Fiesta was more of a Ford Siesta. He was not moving. And then he started moving. Sort of. Dude slow rolled through that intersection like he’s the mayor of Parade Town. My inclination was, of course, to be a turkey and to blare my horn. Nevertheless, I had the Grace in the moment to hold off. In my head I was thinking about how everyone behind us is going to miss the light, and how inconsiderate he is, and “Doesn’t he need to get anywhere, for heaven’s sake!?!”. But I held off. I chose to behave like an adult. And I didn’t just not do the impatient, hostile thing. I chose to do the patient, kind thing. I dipped into the Bird Feeder of Grace. I wished him well. I hoped he and all those around him got where ever they were going safely.
Later, when I passed him, I noticed that he was old enough to have witnessed the signing of the Magna Carta.
Now, I don’t know about you, but being rude to elderly people is so far outside of my code of conduct that had I honked my horn, I would’ve just felt bad about it.
So why is that Grace and not just common sense? Or Compassion? Or covering my own behind?
It might be all those things. I’m putting this in the Grace category because of the thoughts in my head and the fact that I put them aside, and chose a better way of being. It wasn’t a negative (“Don’t be a jerk”), nor was it a double-negative (“Don’t not be kind”). I didn’t choose not to honk at him. I chose to wish him well. It was genuine. And there is a huge difference between trying not to do something and trying to do something.
No one ever got on first, much less hit a home run, by trying not to strike out.
…
There are two bird feeders in our back yard. We fill them in the summer. And get to delight in the birds that visit. But we don’t fill the bird feeders in the winter. Filling them in the summer creates a virtuous circle.
Feeing them in the winter might lead to creatures being over reliant on an artificial food supply and coming to needless harm.
Grace is like that, it enhances, but doesn’t enable.
Grace gives freely without demanding anything in return.
Because we can’t earn graciousness from others (they just give it), Grace allows us to receive without guilt or entitlement.
Grace is a tool for stepping outside of dog-eat-dog and quid pro quo.
…
And here’s someone who’s said it even better:
You often say ‘I would give, but only to the deserving.’
The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks
in your pasture.
They give that they may live, for to withhold is to
perish.
Kahil Gibran, The Prophet, pp. 34.