Becky's Grace

There is an old hymn ... like really, really old, called “Grace that is greater than all our sin”. I haven’t heard that old song in a very long time. Just like anything that is repetitious and known in our lives, I’m sure I have sung that song a thousand different times without truly listening to the words … without acknowledging any truth … without confession my need for the grace it describes.

Last week, I had the privilege of going to South Tyrol, Italy. This beautiful place, rich in history is almost a completely German-speaking territory. Occupied by Italy at the end of the war in November 1918, it was annexed in 1919. The province as it exists today was created in 1926 after an administrative reorganization of the Kingdom.

A team of myself and 6 others company members went to scout out the area. Our mission was to pray a blessing over the area, researching the culture, climate and feasibility of sustaining other company members living here in a long-term basis. I was struck by a few things:

When we have been given much, we don’t know we have a need.

Unemployment in this area of the world is less than 2 %. There is a good tourist industry. There are good schools, good food, good lifestyle, and good hope for the future. There is little crime. This is rich cultural history. When asked how we could pray for this area, confused looks always responded, “We don’t need anything.”


Where there is much, there are always those with little.

Not a profound statement, but it leads me into a story about Becky. Becky is a Nigerian immigrant living in South Tyrol, in a city about 20,000. This town was founded in 901. People know who they are, have what they need, and everyone knows what to expect. Becky speaks no German, very little Italian and perfect English.

One morning, a team mate and I were waiting for the rest of our team at the town square. Becky made her way to me, showing me a German hand-written sign that said she needed money to help support family in the Congo. Somewhat moved by her story and compelled to action by the intensity of her penetrating eyes, I reached in my purse for a few coins. My team mate suggested I ask Becky if she was hungry. After finding out she spoke no German, I communicated my question through sign language and discovered there was a need. I went to a nearby café and bought a sandwich and soda and proceeded to give it to Becky. All the while, I kept asking God what I should do. It’s always a tension I feel when I am confronted by the poor. Will my coins go to buy alcohol or drugs … or are they truly in need? What I’ve come to discover is I really don’t know. I take it case by case relaying on the wisdom of the Holy Spirit to show me what to do. I felt Becky was someone I was supposed to encounter … and to help.

After giving her the lunch, I felt the need to communicate with her. I asked her if she spoke English and she replied in perfect English that she did. I began to tell her that I am a follower of Jesus. Because He has done so much for me, I am obligated to help others. At that moment, what I could do for her was to feed her. I told her that God knew her every trouble. He owned all the cattle on a thousand hills and she could turn to Him as provider for what she needed. The most interesting thing happened. Every word that came out of my mouth resulted in her agreeing not only by head nodding but also by the auditory sounds of saying “Amen”. Her “amen’s” were a commitment of believe in the words of truth. I was so drawn by her eyes, eyes that conveyed a belief that my words reached some part of her heart in which truth resided.

The rest of the week was filled with other encounters by others team mates equally as compelling. Some men on our team found pockets of Pakistani refuges. One man shared an evening with one of these Pakistan’s and had a conversation about the importance of a relationship with the Creator God through His Son, Jesus Christ. The days we were there were filled by praying blessing, hope, and for encounters with a living God.

Now, these few days later, it’s Becky that has still left an impression on my heart. I believe in God’s grace. I’ve given up much to pursue that Grace … to share that Grace with others who have never heard. Yet, somehow it’s Becky’s “amen’s” that still echo in my heart. Somehow her “amen’s” testify to a greater acceptance of that Grace … because in her state of life, she believes that grace as perhaps the only thing she can hold on to. Perhaps it was the greatest need of her day to be fed … and the God of grace led a white girl to feed her. My need for God’s grace seems clean and tidy and not too big. Becky’s need for grace seems too big, too much, too unattainable. Perhaps it’s Becky who is the more blessed. I’ve heard it said that you don’t know Jesus is all you need, until Jesus is all you have. My soul somehow testifies that Becky knows that to be true. I do, too. However, I pray that I would have the same dependence, the same conviction, the same belief that Becky had that day.

Grace, grace, God's grace, grace that is greater than all our sin.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTiYLz3b8To&feature=related