I had suggested singing the hymn "Amazing Grace" at her mother's funeral.
I never thought I would actually be in a real life situation like this. I am sure my jaw dropped involuntarily.
My senior pastor sensed my befuddlement, and took over the conversation with "Oh? I thought you might not like the words 'that saved a wretch like me.'"
The daughter paused and said, "Yes, I really don't like those words."
With a twinkle in his eye, he shared the history of the hymn - that the author was a slave ship captain and identified himself as a wretch because of all he had done before coming to Christ. The daugther, pleased to hear the history of the hymn, softened but still didn't feel that the hymn was appropriate for her mother's funeral service.
History or no history, I am thankful for amazing grace, that a wretch like me could become a saint. Scripture tells us that this grace qualifies us to share in the inheritance of the saints (Colossians 1:12). It reminds me of the line from an old gospel hymn: that I a child of hell should in His image shine. (Here's a cool modern setting of this hymn.)
I'm not likely to be beatified or beautified, but I have been saved by grace and (even though sometimes it's hard to see) am being made in the image of Christ by the work of the Holy Spirit in me. This is the work of God, and I stand in awe of His divine, indescribable love.
