A short walk before dinner.
That last stretch before the road end is always littered
with throw-away coffee cups, empty plastic water bottles and discarded fizzy
drink cans. Hands full with this detritus, I distribute it in the bins at the
road-end and consider that the distance between the fast-food outlets in
Westhill and this road-end, a mile from the paint-ball grounds, can probably be
measured in the time it takes to drink several ounces of liquids.
Why do so many people thoughtlessly throw their trash onto
the verge in the otherwise beautiful countryside? I’m afraid you won’t find the
answer here. I don’t know.
What I do know is that Jesus invites me to throw my trash, the
rubbish of my worries and the smear of my sins, onto him. Unlike the
countryside, which is besmirched by such profligate littering, Jesus accepts
and absorbs and transforms all of the ugly stuff I give him and turns it into
something beautiful, something holy even.
That is grace. Grace which invites us to live in God’s
favour though we clearly don’t deserve that privilege. Grace which welcomes us
with open arms, tattered and filthy as we are, enfolding us in divine love and
forgiveness.
Grace which leads to the peace that passes all understanding;
as we sink into the reality of his grace, we experience the peace which informs
our very beings so that we can enter the minutiae of this day expecting to see
Jesus transform all trash into treasure.
Grace and peace.
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