The School of Grace

(Inspired by Titus 2:11–12 — “For the grace of God that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, Teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world;”)

Grace did not ring the bell like thunder,
or shout my name across the years.
It came as morning does—
a pale stripe of light
slipping under the door,
softly insisting on being seen.

It did not wait for my best intentions,
or for the version of me I kept promising to become.
It stepped into the clutter where I actually was,
sat down at the desk of my real life,
and lifted my chin like a patient teacher
who can see the answer forming
long before I dare to speak.

On the blackboard of my restless heart
it writes in firm, clear strokes:
Turn from the glitter that hollows you out.
Say no to those hungers
that spend you and leave you empty.
Learn the long, quiet yes
of a mind washed clean.

Sober, it explains, is not joyless—
it is simply walking awake,
no longer lulled to sleep
by screens and noise and endless wanting.
Righteous is not stiff perfection—
it is putting your full weight
on what you know is right,
even when it costs you applause.
Godly is not a stained-glass word—
it is keeping company with God
in the middle of a crowded hour,
letting His presence be the lesson
you never graduate from.

And when I fail the quiz again,
when I circle the wrong answer
for the hundredth time,
grace does not slam the book shut.
It does not scold from the far end of the hallway.
It moves its chair closer,
slides the paper between us,
and traces the line of truth with gentle finger:
Watch again. Listen. Let Me show you.

Here in this school,
detention looks like mercy that will not let me go.
Homework is the daily practice
of saying no to the old and yes to the new.
Tests are those sudden moments
when my heart must choose—
and even then, the Teacher is near,
ready to rewrite what I surrender.

Slowly, the cravings wind down,
the world grows dimmer,
and obedience turns into something
more like breathing than striving—
a steady in-and-out of trust.

This is the curriculum of grace:
a life tutored by the kindness of God,
learning, in this present world,
to live awake and honest and His—
until the very way I walk
becomes a quiet testimony
that salvation has appeared
and is still teaching.

If this poem stirred something in your heart, remember that the deepest roots grow from God’s Word itself. “Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee” (Psalm 119:11). If you’d like simple, practical help in tucking Scripture into memory…

👉 Sign up for the free FAST Crash Course in Bible Memorization: http://fast.st/cc/21419