Welcome.

Grace is such a beautiful word, made even more lovely by the gentle reception of it. It is, among so many things, receiving divine help and power from our ever-present Jesus Christ, the best grace giver of all. Like a drip-by-drip infusion, His liberally given grace flows into our veins and actually not only saves us but over time, changes us. As we grow in His grace, we grow up in His gospel.

Imperfect yet striving Saints are enough to be counted as qualified to receive His grace. Believe it friends, believe it.

With many months of devoted practice, I now recognize the daily grace of Jesus more than I ever have in my life. Blessed daily by a Jesus initiated grace, I am more practiced at receiving and appreciating them. And when I sense His grace, I will hear myself whisper: “That was grace,” followed by “and I know it.”

At Untoalltheworld, I want to share about two moments of yesteryear when I knew, “That was grace.”

I was a teenager still living at home. In town lived an older couple – of a different faith. The wife was dying of cancer. I paid a visit to this couple (whom I did not know well) with my mom who wears her heart on the outside of her body and has a true servant’s heart.

During the course of the visit, my mom overdid her praise of my consistent attempts at singing hymns at home. I don’t remember the discussion details, but I do remember leaving that home having sung “Nearer My God To Thee” to that man and his dying wife.

What followed a short time later was a phone call to our home soliciting me to sing the said song at the woman’s funeral. Having grown up in a branch, I was exposed to stretching opportunities consistently, but this was way out of my comfort zone, in a different league across continents.

What could I do but accept? My mom had talked me up, and only the grace of Jesus could make me equal to the task. I sang my heart out in practice and still remember near incessantly drinking lemon flavored water (I had read that helped with clarity when singing) while making the journey into town on the day of the funeral.

At the appointed time, I took my place up front and opened my mouth. God be thanked, the right words came out with a good enough tune. The grace of Jesus enabled me that day, and I’ve never forgotten it. That was one of my first experiences feeling a grace bestowal from Him. That was grace, and I knew it.

Years later as a full-time missionary laboring among the Deaf, I was, with my companion, teaching a spiritually awake, deaf woman.

Her situation was difficult. Currently living with her sister, her brother-in law and a niece, she was near always stuck at home, destined, it seemed, to be a built-in housekeeper and babysitter – with little time given for anything else.

To further complicate things, she had no real language and communicated via a few home signs. Because she didn’t know American Sign Language (ASL), one of our first priorities was to teach her enough ASL so she could communicate with us and learn the gospel. Despite her limited language and hermit like habitation, she learned quickly, evidence of the Spirit’s help.

One day we were endeavoring to teach her about the Spirit. It was a slow-going lesson, and she wasn’t understanding. We knew the Spirit was the teacher and we the preachers, so we earnestly needed her to understand what the Spirit was and how it felt to feel the Spirit. “Heavenly Father,” we silently pled, “what can we do to help her understand?” Then the impression came: “Take her outside. The wind is slightly blowing. Tell her that the Holy Ghost is like the wind. He can’t be seen but He can be felt.”

We jumped from our seats on the floor and motioned for her to follow us. We dashed outside, and in a flurry of signs and actions, we taught her the sign for wind and how the Holy Ghost was like the wind. All these years later, I can still see her standing beside that front yard tree nodding her head and signing to us, “Understand, understand.” That moment was beautiful; it is forever etched in my mind and carefully carried in the chambers of my heart. Forever. That was grace, and I knew it.

As I continue to grow up in the gospel and have ongoing experiences with grace flowing from Jesus, I began to earnestly desire to rivet my attention on things that matter most and delegate my unscheduled time to causes that bless and enrich my spirit and the spirits of others.

As I make efforts to this end, I am infused with and lifted by the grace of Jesus – again. For another 7 days. For the next mountain. For the whole of the journey. I am saved from myself; I am saved from Satan. I inch forward and as I move, I am changed. I grow up more in the gospel.

What are we to give in exchange for His grace that not only saves us but also changes us? All offerings seem completely inadequate, but the one I feel He deeply appreciates and recognizes is our wide-open, come as you are, heart striving willingness to just receive His gentle bestowal of grace. To know and then look heavenward as you hear yourself whisper, “That was grace, and I know it” makes all the difference. Every day. Over time. Now and forever.

Unto all the world: When did you know, “That was grace?”