For the blood-stained and weary stained by the Blood...

Grace.

A five-letter word some unfortunately deem a four.

Deemed by those who don't know the drip of red that stains as it washes clean. Those who haven't had reason to be coaxed from the shadows into the light and stand, not appalled and ashamed, but weary and welcome.

By grace. Through grace. Because of grace.

Five letters.

One for every finger on the hand.

Every finger that instead of pointing outward, curls inward, one by one, into a fist. Pointing back at themselves.

Everyone needs grace.

Some just linger more aware of their need than others.

And in those grace-needy moments, those moments where the stained cling to the crimson garment at the foot of the cross and look up at the battle that was fought on two boards... that's where joy is found. That's where circumstances fade away, worries are cast aside. That's where checkbooks disintegrate and broken hearts mend and disease dries up and prayers are answered not because of what we try to do and fail but because of Who already did it.

And the account might still be in the red and the pain may tarry and the report linger grim...it might not be morning yet, you might still be mourning - but there is joy. Joy in the waiting. In the hoping. In the trusting.

2 boards + 1 hero = all we ever really needed in the first place.

A hero we can access because of one word. Five letters.

It all comes down to, comes back to, comes full circle to, grace.

(hit play on the video to the right for a song I've had on repeat for the last year)