The Graduation I Missed—and the Grace I Found

May through early June is a time of many celebrations—Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, weddings, and of course graduations. This year, like most, I was invited to several graduation ceremonies and receptions. I attended as many as I could, and when I was not able to be there in person, I sent my best wishes and encouragement. Graduations are great celebrations for families. I participated in the graduation at Concordia University, Texas, where many of the graduates were the first in their families to graduate from college. The joy in these graduates and their families filled the room and was contagious. On the other end of the spectrum, I led the welcome and opening prayer at the Pre-K graduation at my church Bethel, Dallas. The children were super cute in their little caps and gowns as the parents and grandparents beamed with pride. 

While graduations of all ages, occasions, and institutions are by their very nature joyful occasions, I have a confession to make, I don’t really like and often dread graduations. I am generally a positive person who enjoys a celebration as much or more as the next person. Yet, graduations are often the exception to this. The reason for this is quite simple. I missed out on my own high school graduation back in 1991. Yes, something that happened 34 years ago still haunts me. Every time I attend a graduation, I am transported back to that area in Fort Worth, watching all my friends walk the stage without me. I am reminded of the reception that was thrown for me—friends and family who came to my big day that didn’t happen. Why didn’t it happen? Because I goofed off and didn’t pass one of my senior English classes. So the pain and embarrassment was 100% self-inflicted.

Having since graduated from high school, college, and grad school all the way to a doctorate, I probably should not let that one failure continue to bother me. However, I think it continues to serve a purpose in my life. It reminds me that I am fully capable of making dumb choices that have real consequences. The same selfish compulsions that led to my missing that graduation continue to show up in my life. Sometimes it’s in big ways, but more often in smaller, more subtle ways. The point here is that we all need those reminders in our life. The purpose of these flashbacks is not to beat us down or prevent us from receiving or giving forgiveness. Instead, they give us an opportunity to experience real grace and redemption. The night I found out I was going to miss graduation, I was pretty down and upset. As I was dreading the graduation ceremony, my father came to me and told me that he was still proud of me, glad that I was his son, and that he knew I would go on to do great things. So, not only do graduations remind me of a difficult time in my life, they also replay a great memory with my dad—a time when he offered me much needed grace and redemption. 

We all have similar moments in our lives. Moments that stick with us and remind us of our shortcomings and the damage the shadows of our personalities can cause. I personally believe this is likely what Paul meant when he talked about his “thorn in the flesh.” This messenger of Satan the accuser, accusing Paul of the times he abused his gift of zeal to harm himself and others. And when he asked the Lord to take it, the divine response was, “My grace is sufficient.” The thorn wasn’t going away. Instead, it served as a humble reminder that when Paul was weak, the strength of Jesus served as his strength, too. This is a great reminder for us when we face painful memories of self-inflicted wounds. Those memories are there to remind us of Christ’s sufficient grace.

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