On Monday God gave me some grace.
I squandered it on something. I don’t even remember what it was now.
On Tuesday God gave me some grace.
I put it in a cupboard somewhere and forgot about it. It’s probably still there.
On Wednesday God gave me some grace.
I told myself that it wasn’t such a big deal if I went off somewhere and did whatever I wanted, because God would always turn up tomorrow with more grace.
On Thursday God gave me some grace.
God must think I’m pretty special. I enjoy feeling special.
On Friday God gave me some grace.
I sat back and relaxed, ‘safe in the knowledge there’ll always be a bit of my heart devoted to it,’ as the song goes.
On Monday someone needed some grace.
But I was too busy, and I felt like I didn’t have much to spare.
On Tuesday someone needed some grace.
But it was someone I didn’t like very much, and I didn’t really think that they deserved my grace.
On Wednesday someone needed some grace.
But I gave them some grace a couple of weeks ago! Couldn’t they go somewhere else? Did they think I was made of grace?
On Thursday someone needed some grace.
But I didn’t really trust them to use my grace wisely, so I gave it to someone who didn’t really need it (but at least they probably wouldn’t waste it).
On Friday someone needed some grace.
And I sat back and wondered why I felt like there was something not quite right with the world.
