I heard a cute story at church today Of a boy who didn't volunteer— His father sent him off to serve A neighbor no one wanted near. She was difficult and ornery, And he'd rather not have gone, But he showed up and served her anyway, And something carried on. And when she finally asked him, “Why would you do this thing for me?” He gave one simple answer: “Because I'm a Christian.” And those words stayed with me. Because I'm a Christian doesn't mean That I pretend I wasn't hurt. It doesn't make the things that happened Disappear beneath the words. It doesn't mean I need no answers, Or that wrong becomes okay. It simply asks me what I'll choose When I decide how I'll behave. Because I'm a Christian, I will leave some room for grace. Room for things I may not understand, Room for another person's place. I can tell the truth about my hurting Without returning hurt for pain. I can hold the boundaries that I need And still leave room for grace. Not because they earned it. Not because I owe it too. Because I'm a Christian, That's what I want to choose. So when I think about my bonus children And everything that's come between, I can hold the things I know are true And things I haven't seen. Maybe you believed the things you said Maybe your pain changed what you heard. Maybe there are pieces of your story I haven't understood. Grace doesn't mean I call it harmless. Grace doesn't mean that I agree. It means I leave a little room For what I still might someday see. Because I'm a Christian, I will leave some room for grace. I won't make the worst interpretation The only one I'll ever take. I'll remember people are much bigger Than the worst thing they have done. And I'll choose to see God's children When my hurt wants me to run. Not because the past doesn't matter. Not because there's nothing left to do. Because I'm a Christian, I will leave some grace for you. There is another side of grace That Sunday brought to mind: The grace I choose to offer you Is the grace I hope I'll find. Because you're a Christian too, I hope someday you'll do the same: Leave some room for my intentions. Leave some room around my name. If something I said hurt you— Tell me. If something landed wrong— Tell me. Give me room to say, “I'm sorry.” Give me room to say, “That's not what I meant.” And when something doesn't sound like me, When the story doesn't fit, Maybe grace could whisper softly, “There might be more to this.” That's the grace I want to give you. That's the grace I hope you'll give. Not freedom from accountability— Just room enough for love to live. Maybe giving grace won't start with wanting to. Maybe sometimes grace begins With choosing what one knows is right Before feelings enter in. And Because we are all Christian, Could we leave some room for grace? Could we listen before judging, Could we meet each other face to face? Could we own the things that are ours Without assigning what is not? Could forgiveness and repentance Meet us somewhere we've forgot? We don't have to erase the story. We don't have to call wrong right. But maybe we could follow Jesus Through the hardest parts of life. And when I wonder why I'd offer Grace when grace feels hard to give, I'll remember that young man's answer: “Because I'm a Christian.” Not because you earned it. Not because I never hurt. Not because reconciliation Wouldn't still require work. I'll offer you the grace I hope you'll someday offer me. Not because it's easy. Because I'm a Christian.
