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Tag Archives for " grace "

Oct 23

Why I Still Trust God When Shame Feels Heavy

By Lindsey Austin | Best of Messy Grace , faith , Family , Messy Grace , Parenting

I vow to let go of past failures and strengthen what remains so I can be a better version of myself each day. Not let go of them completely, as in forget them, but take my fear, shame, mistakes and misgivings, and put them under my feet.

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Why I Believe Love is Love
May 18

Why I Believe Love is Love

By Steve Austin | Best of Messy Grace , faith , lgbtq , Messy Grace , The Struggle With Church

It’s who you are that counts. Your worship to God is the way you live. A few years ago, I would have ignored, shunned, and been disgusted by the scene that unfolded that night at the gas pump. The journey toward authentic faith became real for me in that moment.
The most effective way to destroy prejudice is by sharing tangible love, one opportunity or person at a time. If my Sunday morning song service doesn’t match my response to a gay guy at the gas pump, I’m in trouble.

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How I Found God in All the Wrong Places
Aug 26

How I Found God in All the Wrong Places

By Steve Austin | Best of Messy Grace , faith , Messy Grace , Recovery , Religious Recovery

I didn’t plan for Jesus to meet me a few years back, in a little coffee shop inside our church, dressed just like my Grandpa. Jesus, with a raggedy mustache, a three-day beard, and coffee stains on his plaid button-down. I didn’t plan to meet Jesus that way—that day. I didn’t plan for Him to rescue me from my own bad theology and church hurts. I didn’t even know He cared.
And I never expected what happened next.

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Meet Steve Austin: The Pastor Who Nearly Died by Suicide
Jun 22

Pastor to Psych Ward: Recovery from a Suicide Attempt is Possible.

By Steve Austin | Best of Messy Grace , Depression , faith , Mental Health , Messy Grace , Recovery , Recovery from a Suicid... , This is My Story (series)

My clients were concerned. When they couldn’t reach me, they called first my wife, and then the hotel. I was lying on my back, unconscious, covered in vomit, when the police and EMT’s found me. They thought it was a murder scene. Vomit covered the bed and the floor. It had projected up the wall behind me, and coated a massive picture that hung over the bed. Apparently the pink Benadryl pills, along with the tens of thousands of milligrams of other medication I took, created the effect of blood. I had been unconscious for a solid ten hours by then.

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