He’s had vertigo this year, too. (Worse than my husband Jeff’s.) He’s also had other unexpected health problems.
I only know because I started following him on Facebook after finishing his book that quickly became one of my favorite reads this year, 52 Lies Heard in Church Every Sunday.
Author/Pastor Steve McVey is putting it all out there—the details of his illness, his frustrations, his joys—but why?
He asked himself this question on Facebook last Friday,
“Why do I post all these personal things publicly?”
I love his answer, which is no surprise to me after reading his book:
It’s because of grace.
It's not because it's my nature to do so. Truthfully, as a local pastor for 21 years, I kept personal things private for the most part.
But when I began to understand grace, the Holy Spirit showed me that it isn't a book or pulpit or camera that is a man's platform for ministry. It's his life.
Grace is best seen in the day-to-day ups and downs of living in this world.
That’s when I need grace—as I’m riding the daily rollercoaster of emotions and events and relationships. And that’s when I see grace.
I don’t always receive or hand it back out appropriately, but it’s always there. Jesus is ever-present, always giving, never changing.
More from Steve McVey:
So, as much as I can, I try to be transparent about my personal life in an attempt to say:
This is how grace looks. It doesn't shine with a bright luster on a perfect life. It is best seen in the brokenness, the pain, the doubts and the struggles of life.
Grace can't be seen in religious professionals who attempt to project that we're all grinning our way to glory-land. The strength of grace is best seen in the trenches, amidst the mud of misery and mystery.
Grace reaches down to where we are and doesn't always lift us up out of our situation, but rather holds and hugs us right where we are.
Grace knows where I am and where you are. He was tested in every way, like us. So, having been here, He knows how to guide us through it until we find ourselves on the other side.
In the meantime, the Gentle Hug of Grace sustains us with the certain sweet assurance, ‘I will never leave you or forsake you.’
And oddly enough, at times like this, that assurance is enough.
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It’s Day 10 of . . .