This summer I took a college course were we went on a field trip to Pilot Knob Hill—a sacred Native American site. Getting off the bus, I noticed the route we were taking started with partially paved road that went on for a ways and then abruptly ended. Walking the first leg of the journey was easy, but beyond the paved ground was undeveloped space: rocky and uneven. I knew I couldn’t continue alone.

Seeing my need, my professor quietly appeared at my side and like a gentleman, offered me his hand. As we walked, I noticed that the harder the terrain became, the more aware and grateful I was of his tightening grip, holding me steady, helping me walk. This moment had become a picture of grace.

It seems that we are being continually led into uncharted territory, where others are needed to come alongside us and offer their hands. The harder life gets, the more we find ourselves being held fast and secure.

How about you? Where have you seen grace abound? If you were asked to write a metaphor or compose a scene, how would you picture a gracious grip holding your life?