Abundant Grace Spring 2013

Part One

The beginning of the nightmare of my life...

As if it were all playing out in slow motion, everything began to evolve in front of my eyes. One by one, the members of the jury stood to their feet with one purpose firmly planted in their hearts and minds. It was quite clear that their only goal was to rid themselves of me forever. All it took was a single glance in their direction to confirm my worst fears. I immediately knew that they truly despised me from the deepest parts of their evil hearts. Pure hatred was etched across each hardened face as they pointed their accusing fingers. In unison, the jury began to yell, "She’s guilty! Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! Guilty as charged!"

Hearing this, my heart fell. I began to realize my path was doomed. An endless stream of cold tears ran down my flushed cheeks. Broken, I stood there feeling their piercing eyes staring at me. It pained me to know that I was completely rejected by all those surrounding me.

With horror, I pleaded earnestly as I fell to my knees, "NO! NO! I'm innocent! Innocent! Please!" My shoulders began to shake violently as I continued begging, "NO! I'm innocent! You hear me, innocent! I have done nothing wrong! Please believe me!’"

But it was no use, for my desperate pleas fell on deaf ears. The sneering jury, my peers, and the glaring judge looked down upon me, unaffected by my protests. With hearts as cold as stone, the jury heartlessly professed once again, "She’s guilty! Guilty! Guilty as charged!"

Soon, the room erupted into turmoil. Finally, the judge raised his hand, quieting everyone in the room. He cleared his throat loudly and announced with a disgusted look of wrath, “I hereby proclaim that this defendant, Lexie Gunzila, has chosen her own fate by her choices and actions! She has been found guilty. The verdict is that she must spend eternity in the Black Cell!” And with that, the wooden gavel came crashing down onto the judge’s sound block causing an echo to reverberate throughout the austere courtroom.

A loud cry sounded from my throat, and before I could interject another plea, two officers roughly grabbed my arms and yanked me to my feet. As they dragged me down the hallway, I begged and beseeched, "No, this has to be a mistake! Please! Someone help me!" Slowly, I shut my eyes. A single tear rolled down my cheek, hitting the stone pathway leading to the desolate cell awaiting me.

With a quick and sudden start, I jerked upright in my bed. I let a soft scream erupt from my lips. My chest was rising and falling, and I labored to catch my breath. All the while, my azure-blue eyes darted about madly, looking for something— anything—out of place. I soon decided everything was in its rightful place. Sweat soaked my t-shirt, and my sheets were wrapped tightly around me from my fitful sleep. Slowly bringing a hand to my forehead, I closed my eyes and breathed a shaky sigh of relief. I silently slipped back beneath the comforter and, trying to reassure myself, whispered softly, "It was just a dream. Just a...dream."

"She’s guilty! Guilty!

Guilty as charged!"

Part Two

"Beep, beep, beep," sounded in the distance causing me to stir slightly. I groaned softly and flipped over onto my stomach, all the while dreaming of wild flowers dancing in a gentle breeze, sweeping over the gentle plains. Muted colors were moving slowly in my mind drawing me into a deeper slumber. It all seemed so relaxing, so blissful, so—"Beep, beep, beep!" my alarm clock echoed faster with each beep. Startled by the interruption, I bolted upright in my bed. Fumbling sleepily, I tried to locate the alarm clock, wanting to chuck it across the room to silence it forever. Not being successful, I couldn't help but grumble, "Where is it for Columbus Pete’s sake?!"

Just then my arm connected with something, and with a single forceful sweep, the clock skidded across the nightstand and fell to the floor. Once again, silence filled the air. With a sigh of contentment, I pulled the blankets up to my chin as I mumbled, "At last, peace and quiet."

But not even thirty seconds had passed when I heard my mom calling from the foot of the stairs, "Lexie! Breakfast is ready!"

Upon hearing her, I couldn't help but moan and bury my face in my pillow. I was clearly not ready to start the day. "Just a few more minutes," came my muffled reply.

"Lexie," my mom exclaimed sternly, "the bus will be here in less than thirty minutes! You'll be late for sure if you don't hurry!"

Realization suddenly hit home, so I quickly jumped out of bed making a fast beeline for the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, I emerged from my room with my backpack casually slung over my shoulder and headed downstairs to grab a bite to eat.

"Hey, Honey! Did you sleep well?" my mom asked without looking up as she dug through the kitchen drawers for a utensil. I sarcastically chuckled softly, "Not really."

At that, my mom froze and sent a worried look my way. She briefly searched my face and then inquired quietly, "It was another nightmare, wasn't it?"

Now I wished I hadn't said anything in the first place. I hated it when she did this. I hesitated slightly before nodding my head to confirm her suspicions.

Mom bit her bottom lip and began to say, "Maybe we should—"

“I’m fine, Mom!” I snapped. “They are just nightmares. It’s no big deal.” But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted saying them. She gave her usual single nod and silently turned back to finish her task.

An awkward silence hung in the air making me shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Wanting an excuse to leave, I grabbed an apple and headed toward the door muttering, "Gotta go! See you later, Mom!"

"Wait!" my mom exclaimed as she quickly turned to face me.

With my hand on the doorknob, I paused, waiting for her to finish whatever she was going to say.

"Lexie," she began slowly, toying with a dishtowel in her hands."Your father... well...he asked me to go to church with him this Sunday."

At that, my mouth fell open, and I swiveled my head around to face her. Thinking this was just a joke, I questioned, "You’re kidding, right?" But the look on her face told me otherwise. I exclaimed, "Mom! What did you tell him?"

She took a deep breath before answering, "I, umm, I told him that I would like to go."

Hearing her honest answer, I could only stare hard at the kitchen wall, grinding my teeth.

With hurt clouding her eyes, my mother pleaded, "Now I'm asking you if you would like to go with us?"

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and declare, a bit too hastily, "No, thanks!"

"Are you sure?" she whispered softly.

"Yes!" I literally exploded and cried, "Mom, do you honestly believe in all this God stuff?"

One look at her face told me the answer to my question before I heard her reply. Finally, she voiced quietly, "Yes, I'm starting to."

Before storming out of the house, I shook my head in disbelief and feeling as though she too were abandoning me.

"Beep, beep, beep!"

my alarm clock echoed faster

with each beep.

  

A Broken Spirit~KD Richards  

I am my father’s daughter. With that said, I recently took on a project that was way above my head. Tired of wiping fingerprints off my beloved kitchen table, I decided to be creative and mosaic the glass top. I claimed the table when I was in elementary school when it came with a house that my parents purchased, and I’ve had it since I was married. For a year or so, I researched, planned, and purchased the tools and stained glass. Finally, the day came when I was “in the mood.” It was nine o’clock on a Monday night. With a burst of energy, I started breaking glass. (I had figured on spending two hours that night for breaking and gluing glass and the next day for grouting. Piece of cake!) My husband walked in while I was breaking the glass, shook his head and said, “Oh boy, here we go.” To make a long story short, I ran out of glass that night.

Four days later, I began grouting. What a nightmare! Black grout was everywhere— in my hair, in my nose, all over my hands, and throughout the house. I also had company coming to spend the night. The grout I was using was not working as I had planned. I found myself confessing all sin, known and unknown. I finally had to humble myself and ask my husband to help me save the table. After much work, the table was saved, but was grout-less. I called my parents for consolation. Mom laughed quite hard (actually, roared would be the more appropriate term), but dear Dad understood.

How often do things NOT work out exactly the way you had planned? Most of life is like that. God knows what is necessary for you to be broken for His good. He designed the process and experiences you go through to teach you the joy of depending on the Holy Spirit. He knows that sometimes, if your plans worked out, pride would overcome you, and you would miss out on the blessings that He has for you. He also knows the discipline that you need to encourage you to turn to Him with a wonderfully broken spirit.

Turn to Psalm 51. David is truly broken over his sin and desires God’s restoration. The term for the broken spirit in verse 17 describes being smashed, shattered, or broken down spiritually. Describe in your own words David’s grief over his sin.





I hope that you really thought through your description of brokenness. Are you broken in that way over your own sin? In our modern society, Satan has duped much of Christianity into believing that sin is not that bad, and he encourages us to blame-shift by making excuses for our thoughts and actions. He also wants us to believe that certain sins are acceptable. No wonder our churches are in such bad shape! Sin is having dominion over the Body of Christ.

Although different sins have different consequences, ALL sin separates us from God. The eternal consequences, however, differ for the believer and the unbeliever. The unbeliever will experience eternal separation from God. The believer will experience lack of power, refused prayers, and discipline from her Heavenly Father. Because David experienced these consequences, he was miserable. His response, however, was one of complete agreement with God about his wicked condition.


Psalm 51:1-4 Have _________ upon me, O God, according to thy ________________: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies __________ _______ my __________________ _. Wash me ____________ ___ from mine _______________ ____, and ___________________ me from my sin. For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me. Against _______________, ________ ____ only, have I sinned, and done this _________________ in thy sight: that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest.

We know that David was broken, but what did he ask God to do about it? Look again at Psalm 51. This time, record the different words David uses for “cleaning.”





Guess what? God answered his prayer. He cleansed him! He gave him a clean heart and restored him to joy. God honored David’s broken spirit.

Verse 15 shows a change in David’s spiritual state. He confidently asks God to help him praise. He knows that God does not delight in offerings as much as He delights in a right heart. Imagine that! God is not primarily impressed with your service, your appearance, or your moral uprightness. He is most interested in your attitude, your heart, and your spirit. That is why He has given us the greatest gift of all—the Holy Spirit.

Romans 8:5-6 For they that are after the
__________________ do mind the things
of the _______________; but they that are
after the _________________ the things
of the __ ___________. For to be
___________________ minded is death;
but to be __________________ minded is
_________________and______________.



A broken believer realizes that the flesh (human nature) cannot do good. The flesh produces only carnal, “human nature” things. A broken believer gives God all the messed-up pieces and knows that only He can make something spiritually beautiful out of all the confusion. Brokenness gives the Holy Spirit reign over the body. This surrender is the only way to please God—because the Holy Spirit is God.

In the wake of his sin, David recognized that God did not first want his service, offering or dedication. The sacrifice God wanted was his (David’s) broken heart. He wrote in verse 17: “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.” Consider that. Are you offering God everything except for what He wants most? David was called the “man after God’s own heart,” not because of his accomplishments, position, or talents, but because he was honest with God and with himself about his sin. Since David was broken and teachable, God was able to use him mightily. God will not despise your truly broken spirit. He knows how to turn it into something beautiful—if you let Him.

The table is finished. Dad helped me with it, and it turned out just beautiful. Of course it means more to me because of the object lesson it represents. One of my friends, while sitting at the table, stroked the top and said, “The problem will be deciding which child gets the table.” I think I’ll give it to the one who breaks it.