It was such a simple thing, and I’d done it dozens of times before… Schedule a blog post. Once it posts, a tweet is generated with a link to the post. Straightforward, uncomplicated… At least in theory.  Yesterday, the post missed its schedule. The tweet however, generated anyway with a link to a post that didn’t exist. And a minute later, another tweet was generated. And again a minute later. And again… for forty-seven minutes. (Something like that… I couldn’t count the  tweets. Frankly didn’t want to count the tweets.)

It was such a simple thing, and I’d done it dozens of times before… Schedule a blog post. Once it posts, a tweet is generated with a link to the post. Straightforward, uncomplicated… At least in theory.  Yesterday, the post missed its schedule. The tweet however, generated anyway with a link to a post that didn’t exist. And a minute later, another tweet was generated. And again a minute later. And again… for forty-seven minutes. (Something like that… I couldn’t count the  tweets. Frankly I didn’t want to count the tweets.)

I disabled the tweets. They didn’t stop. I disabled the WordPress plug-in. The tweets didn’t stop. Finally, I deleted the post. They stopped. How embarrassing!

That was a tough lesson for this perfectionist. I have a pathological aversion to looking stupid. A tweet- the same tweet- every minute for the better part of an hour certainly qualifies as stupid. So in the face of such a techie disaster, I could choose to crawl in a virtual hole, disable my Twitter account and not post for a while… like months. Then come back under an assumed name. I gave that more than a few moments consideration.  A much more reasonable reaction is to chalk it up as a learning experience, and move on. And here we are.

So near the close of the Authenticity Challenge, how does this apply to my faith? If I am putting forth any effort at all, at some point, I will fail, perhaps spectacularly. When that happens… (And that’s not saying it hasn’t already happened. Because it has.) I need to absorb the lesson and get back to work. I can never outfail God’s grace.

Tomorrow is the last post in this series… Be sure a check back for some parting thoughts. Tuesday’s post will be another study tip.

Luke 15 gives us three of Jesus’ most famous parables, the lost sheep, the lost coin and the prodigal son. The three stories are strung together by Jesus to emphasize a common theme- the restoration of the lost. I had the privilege to teach these to my Sunday school kids and my Wednesday night kids recently, but I had a flash of insight on the stories.

Is Jesus talking about the lost finding salvation or Christians who stray and are restored? The answer is both. The sheep and the coin represent the lost who come to Christ for the first time. They didn’t purposely get lost- they just were, and in each case, there is a search and an honest desire to return the lost items to their place. We are born with a sin nature. We don’t have to intentionally do anything to end up lost, and we’re powerless to prevent it. But God found us and restored us to our place, in a relationship with Him that was lost when Adam sinned.

Now the boy is a different situation. He is a son and he willfully chooses to walk away from his father. The father doesn’t search for him. He watches and waits, ready to receive him. The boy comes to himself, in humility recognizes what a mess he’s in (literally and figuratively), has a change of heart and wants restoration. That’s what the father was waiting for! The fact that the boy came home is all the evidence the father needs to restore him, not just to the family, but the line about ‘put a ring on his finger’ indicates the boy was once again made a joint heir with his elder brother. It was as if he had never left.

When we as believers walk away from God, He doesn’t search for us, but waits for that genuine change of heart. When we drag ourselves back in humility and repentance, our gracious Father takes us in His arms before we can finish our speech.

Grace is a risky business, after all, what’s to stop the boy from leaving again? Not a thing. The father loves the son and yearns for that relationship, that communion so deeply that to him, it’s a risk worth taking. Sometimes we are hesitant to extend grace because of that risk. We’re afraid. When we see others with the eyes of Christ, we will love more, and fear less.

Is there a relationship in your life in which  God is calling you to risk grace?