Smelly Dead

When I see the druggie, the alcoholic, the murderer, the person who is down and out, the person steeped in sexual immorality, the racist, the poor, the homeless, the sick, the dying, the leper, the only difference between this guy and them is the grace of God. I can’t stand aloft and feel like somehow I am here because I made a better choice. I don’t have it in me to make a better choice. I was dead, smelly dead, in my trespasses, an enemy of God, so horribly lost that it took Jesus dieing on the cross and Christ bearing the vileness of my sin, so vile that it caused Him to sweat blood. No, I am no better than the worst. And I am not here because I made a better decision. I am here because of Christ. It was Christ who was willing to take on the depths of my sin, to become vile. And it was His grace and the strength of His power that reached down to my dead and vile heart and gave me life from the dead. And I have to believe that that grace which is big enough for me is big enough for them. I once was one of them and so I long for them to come into the Kingdom. I know His grace reaches down to the worst of who we are and He can give life even to us, the most smelly of the dead.