grace given me

My son just graduated from college and I am a proud mama. With his degree, he stepped into a new season of life. A whole new set of opportunities, relationships, and realities became available to him. He joined a community with a rich history and global influence. He gained access to accomplished alumni, world-class professors, and opportunities that may not have been available before. 

What’s interesting is that, while he appreciated his university, he didn’t initially think much about what those realities would mean for him. Like many young adults, he wanted to earn his way. He wanted opportunities to come because of his abilities and effort. At first, he was hesitant to leverage the network around him—hesitant to ask for introductions, hesitant to benefit from connections. In many ways, he’s still discovering what it means to belong to this new community.

As I reflected on that, I realized this isn’t unique to college graduates. It happens whenever we experience a significant change in status—a new degree, a certification, a promotion, a marriage, citizenship, or membership in a respected organization. Overnight, new realities become true. New privileges, responsibilities, and opportunities come with our new position. Yet it often takes time to understand what has actually changed.

The same is true in our walk with Christ—only infinitely more so. The Bible tells us that when we receive Jesus, an entirely new reality becomes true about us. Not someday. Not after we’ve memorized enough Scripture, served enough people, or cleaned up our lives. Immediately. John 1:12 says, “Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.”

Children of God. We say those words so often that we can lose our sense of wonder. The King of Kings becomes our Father. The Creator of the universe calls us his sons and daughters. The God who spoke galaxies into existence invites us to call him “Abba, Father.” The moment we place our faith in Christ, we are forgiven. We are adopted. We are accepted. We are loved. We become heirs with Christ. 

These are not goals we strive toward. They are realities we receive. The question is: Do we know it? And even if we know it, do we believe it? And even if we believe it, do we live as though it is true?

I think many Christians are like someone who has married into royalty but spends years struggling to believe that the crown, the inheritance, and the family name now belong to them.

We understand adoption in theory, yet we still think like orphans. We worry as though we have no all-powerful Father caring for us. We strive as though his approval must be earned. We carry shame that Christ already paid for. We approach God cautiously when Hebrews 4:16 tells us to “come boldly to the throne of our gracious God.” Too often, we live beneath the reality of who we have become.

Adoption isn’t merely a beautiful metaphor. It is a change of status. A change of identity. A transfer from one kingdom into another. We move from spiritual poverty to spiritual inheritance, from outsiders to beloved children, from servants to heirs. Yet understanding what became true often takes much longer than becoming true.

Perhaps that’s why Paul prayed for believers in Ephesians 1:18: “I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people.” Paul wasn’t praying that they would receive something new. He was praying that they would understand what they already possessed.

Maybe that’s the prayer we need as well. Because adjusting to a royal life doesn’t happen overnight. Learning to live as a son or daughter of the King is a lifelong journey. It’s learning to pray boldly because our Father hears us. It’s learning to trust because our Father provides. It’s learning to walk in freedom because our Father has forgiven us. It’s learning to live with confidence and purpose because our Father has called us. It is about learning to live from the royal identity we’ve already been given.

Father, thank you for making us your children through Jesus Christ. Open the eyes of our hearts to understand what has become true because of your grace. Help us move beyond simply knowing these truths and begin living from them. Where we think like orphans, remind us that we have a Father. Where we strive for approval, remind us that we are already accepted. Where we live in fear, remind us that we are heirs. Teach us what it means to walk as sons and daughters of the King. Amen.