Amazing Grace in a Jar

It sounds odd, I know, but that is exactly what my friend Mary gave to me last Christmas— Amazing Grace in a jar! It was a small pink jar with a white lid, and it contained the smoothest, sweetest-smelling whipped body lotion I have ever seen or felt. Its fragrance was heavenly. And it was the most thoughtful, kindest gift I could have received at the precise moment Mary gave it to me. Not just for the contents of the jar, which were truly amazing and luxurious. But for the name of it and what it represents. “Amazing Grace” whipped body crème is from a company that names its products beautifully. Products with names like “Purity” and “Season of Bubbles” and “Renewed Hope” are some of their bestsellers. Under the words amazing grace on my jar is the sub-text: “with every act of grace, the world gains a touch more love.”

I was going through a downward spiral that first pandemic Christmas. It seems a lifetime ago now, Christmas of 2020. But nine months into the shutdown—with remote work, isolation, a vaccine that seemed too far in the future, and a Christmas devoid of gathering with loved ones—I just felt

By Connie Vandeman Jeffery

spent, running on empty. And I felt guilty for feeling that way. Healthcare workers got to feel spent and overwhelmed. They could actually justify feeling despondent. I couldn’t. I was blessed to have a job I loved and was able to do remotely. I had such good friends, who did their best to keep in touch by Zoom and FaceTime, texts and emails. I tried so hard to count my blessings, and yes, there were so many. Still, the sadness and darkness crept into my mind and heart.

Mary’s act of grace in giving me the jar of lotion for Christmas was just one of the ways she’s touched my life with love since I met her in the late 1980s. Mary and I worked together on and off for 20 years. She is definitely not a fair-weather friend. She’s a pandemic-fire-earthquake-stormy-weather friend. The kind of friend who laughs with you over the latest cute thing your grandchild did, cries with you over shared grief, and drops off homemade soup and her famous oatmeal patties with gravy when you’re too sick to answer the door. She calls you when she sees on the news that the fires are closer to your house than hers, and she offers her home as a refuge. She texts you and sends the

funniest memes when she knows you’re down.

Mary has been through so much more than I have—the hard stuff, the “Why, God?” questions, the grief of losing her husband way too soon. And yet, she’s so incredibly generous and “there” for me in ways I didn’t even know I needed. During the pandemic, we have been stopping by each other’s houses, staying outside with masks on, visiting briefly, dropping off DVDs or audio books or flats of strawberries and other treats. She keeps my spirits up, and I try to do the same for her. But it was Amazing Grace in a jar that touched something so deep in my soul that I burst into tears when I opened it. Amazing grace! How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see. When I saw the words on the jar, the lyrics flooded into my mind, the melody pushing its way out of my mouth. I cannot see those two words together without humming the hymn and being reminded of what the song means. It had been months since I’d sung it. John Newton, the former slave trafficker, wrote the most enduring hymn of all time, a song of conversion and redemption published in 1779. My late pastor once told me that my personal testimony was in the but now part of Amazing Grace. I had been lamenting about not having a dramatic conversion story. Mine just seemed so boring. I’m a third-generation Adventist, born and raised. “Of course you have a story,” he said. “It’s in the but now.”

I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.

I was one thing before, but after accepting Jesus Christ, after experiencing His amazing grace in my life, I am something else. I will give it a try. I was fearful almost all of the time, but now that fear is being replaced by trust and peace. I have been despondent during the pandemic, but now I am feeling and experiencing glimmers of hope. I was so sad in December 2020, but now my friend gave me a simple yet elegant gift of lotion with a perfect name that reminded me of His amazing grace—the grace that is more than sufficient for each one of us. Yes, this works. I can live in the but now. I will live in the but now. It’s positively amazing how one gift from Mary reminded me that, as undeserving as I feel, I am loved and cherished and have access to His abundant, amazing grace. “God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work” (2 Corinthians 9:8, ESV). The jar is now empty, but my heart is overflowing with gratitude. Thank you, Mary. Thank you, Jesus.

_____________________________ Connie Vandeman Jeffery is associate director of communication and community engagement of the Pacific Union Conference.