Shortly before I left Savannah, the headlines in the Savannah News were all about Baby Grace. Baby Grace was a newborn girl discovered in a dumpster by a garbage worker. Amidst the refuse of a ghetto area of Savannah, lying in pornography, in the green broken glass of discarded cheap wine bottles, in coffee grounds and rotting food, was a tiny little girl not over a week old. The garbage collector named her "Baby Grace." And the story of Grace is changing the hearts of that neighborhood like nothing before. There will be no problem finding parents for Baby Grace; couples are lining up to claim Grace as their own.
I think what God is telling us in this passage is that the message of Grace—God’s Grace in Christ—is equally surprising and even disturbing. For on a garbage dump outside of a two-bit occupied country, on a Roman cross, Grace could be found. Grace is not found in the pretty religion of men, but in the garbage dump of our own lives. And those who find Grace, and tell it best, are not professional clergymen, but people who have lived close to the dumpster themselves,
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