the mailboxes of grace
how the Spirit uses the ordinary to remind us we are not alone
I got a card earlier this week in the mail. That doesn’t happen often. These days it’s a doctor’s office bill, an ad for new windows, or a college asking for money. But whenever I open the mailbox and find something else, something novel, something with an obviously handwritten address, I’m elated.
And even though it’s my birthday on the 14th, and sometimes that means I’m more likely to get such a piece of mail, I was surprised.
It had a return address from church I had served nearly eight years ago. I remember they had a card ministry where ladies of the church would gather to craft handmade cards and mail them out for people’s birthdays, but it had been years since I had received one.
I wasn’t offended or anything as the years went on and I didn’t receive a card. I’d only been their pastor for 3 years—a trifling amount of time in the grand scheme of lives both church and personal.
Heck, the pastor who followed me has been their more than twice as long! The question isn’t why wouldn’t they remember me, but why would they? But there it was, a beautiful, handmade card for my birthday wishing me a “Happy Birthday!” sent by a church with whom I lived and served, even if but for a moment.
Essayist Leslie Jamison once said that “surprise is her working definition of God. Or Grace.1” Certainly this was a God and Grace moment for me—I was delighted and surprised, even letting out an audible laugh. The card embodied some of Jesus’ words from the gospel reading for this past Sunday.
As Jesus is loving and teaching and leading his disciples on the night before he is killed, Jesus wants to make sure they know that even though what is coming will leave them traumatized and afraid, they won’t be alone. Jesus might be leaving them physically, but he promises his disciples that he will not abandon them.
He says, “I will ask the Father, and he will send another Companion, who will be with you forever…I won’t leave you as orphans. I will come to you.” (John 14:16,18) He’s talking about the Holy Spirit being given to the Church, enlivening it to learn and serve and gather and worship with the purpose of inviting the world to experience the grace and mercy poured out by Christ.
We are not left alone in this world, but have been given one who is a companion in this life of faith. Amid a society deep into an epidemic of loneliness2, that is good news, life-saving news. Jesus sends us the Spirit to accompany us in times when we are most in need of it.
If the Cross is God’s revelation of what love looks like (John 15:13) and where new life is born (John 3:14-15), then we shouldn’t expect the Holy Spirit to enter into our lives some way different. The Holy Spirit’s companionship isn’t flashy, powerful, or overly-impressive. Indeed, the Spirit coming alongside us will look awfully ordinary.
Casseroles when we haven’t got the strength to get to the grocery store. Dog watching when we need to avoid a kennel bill that might put us under. A prayer shawl knitted just for you to wrap yourself and know you are clothed in prayer. Even a birthday card for your 37th trip-around-the-sun from an old church.
Jesus promises not to leave us as orphans and the Holy Spirit makes that so. It’s just in surprising ways we almost miss it. Maybe that is what the Spirit does most often: slip little moments of grace into the ordinary mailboxes of our lives. Grace shows up to remind us we are still known, still loved, still not alone.
https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2019/09/30/rigorous-grace-a-conversation-between-leslie-jamison-and-kaveh-akbar/
https://www.hhs.gov/sites/default/files/surgeon-general-social-connection-advisory.pdf