Whenever it was time for a parental lecture, my husband and I knew the exact moment we lost our audience of one. It was when we said the word “but.” No matter how well we were managing the conflict, that one simple conjunction would shut down all communication with our son.

If my social feeds are to be believed, that conjunction is trending among Christians of all sorts whose posts begin, “God calls us citizens of heaven, but—" or “Christ has made us one, but—" or “God is sovereign, but—" or “I know what Scripture says about marriage, but—“.

I am beginning to side with my son on that word “but.” It seems like we should be more circumspect in this world where we push send or publish or post without a second thought.

Though not quite ready to block posts like these, I am bothered by the tone my now not-so-favorite conjunction implies that, perhaps in this situation, I know what is best. It’s an ancient human tendency to think that, or maybe it’s simply our need to do something. It's hard to shake the notion that God needs our help in salvation.

In God’s Word, even that pesky conjunction becomes a conduit of grace, especially in our most hopeless situation. “For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die—BUT God shows his love for us in that we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:7-8, all caps added by me)

It’s a conduit of grace when the psalmist hears “whispering of many—terror on every side!—as they scheme together against me, as they plot to take my life. But I trust in you, O Lord; I say, ‘You are my God.’ My times are in your hand
. . .” (Psalm 31:13, 14)

Too often, I say, “I trust you, Lord, but just in case, this is what I think should happen.” I want my times, in my hands.

Most of the time, my way is not the way of Christ. Judging by our posts, comments and remarks, we flip the narrative—beginning with God and ending with ourselves and what we can do, or what God can do with our special helping hand. But the comments betray us. We are not like him.

God begins with the hopeless helpless heart and ends with himself and what he does best. Where we want God to strike the enemy dead, God is making the dead alive. God begins with aliens and strangers and gives them citizenship, God speaks creation into being, the Word speaks grace and truth, and God breathes words that are pleasant and sweeter than honey. God alone rules from above with justice and righteousness. There is none like him. No, not even one.

What would happen if we flipped the narrative of our lives not only to begin with God and end with him, but to live in the middle parts for him, sheltering in the shadow of his wing, finding rest in the green pastures of his comfort, giving our wealth to the poor, surrendering our will to his even though it doesn't make sense to the worldly wise, daring to be like him in washing feet, associating with castoffs, welcoming the children, devoting ourselves to the prayers and the singing and the sacrifice of ourselves for the good of those who hate us. This is the freedom we long for.