And then life surprises us. We find community where once we were alone. We are arrested by the works of God in a sunset when the clouds take a rest for the first time in what seems like years. Seemingly out of nowhere, we fall in love.
The theological term for surprise is grace. We get very thing we have once thought impossible. We experience transformation. We are brought to life. We crave holiness. We fall in love.
The season of Epiphany is when we reflect together on the surprising goodness of God as he comes to us in human form. God’s goodness is on display. And whether you call it surprise or grace, the goodness of God oftentimes comes to us unexpectedly.
Lauren brought us a poem this week that reflects on this all-surprising grace.
Suddenly we find ourselves in love
with fresh cilantro, both of us,
and now we put it into everything--
salsa, of course, but also into salads
and sides, and we find ourselves
eating it all by itself and putting
the fingers that have handled it,
steadied it while we chopped it, up
to our noses, breathing deep.
The crispness of its leaf's become
an unexplained addiction, a mystery
so citrusy, of scent or secret spice--
and we are high on how it dawns
in us anew each time we think
to add it to the soup, and we're
embarrassed by the way we feel
because we both remember clearly
another time, though not exactly when,
in which we'd had a very pointed conversation
and agreed we didn't like it in the least.