Give Yourself Some Grace: But What Does Grace Mean?

I talk about semantics a lot.

Especially when I work with teenagers.

Someone will use a word like trust, safe, respect, controlling, or fine, and before we go too far down the road, I will sometimes stop them.

“Semantics,” I’ll say. “Tell me what you mean by that word.”

Because I have learned that two people can use exactly the same word and mean entirely different things.

We can think we understand each other simply because we recognize the language.

But recognizing a word is not the same thing as understanding what it means to the person using it.

And recently, I realized I may have been forgetting to ask that question about one of the words I use quite often myself.

Grace.

I cannot tell you how many times I have said to someone sitting across from me:

“Give yourself some grace.”

Or:

“Give yourself the same grace you so easily give to everyone else.”

Usually, the person nods.

And I have assumed they understand what I mean.

But lately I have been wondering:

Do they?

For that matter, do we?

We use the phrase give yourself some grace so casually now that it almost seems self-explanatory.

But what exactly are we asking someone to give themselves?

Patience?

Forgiveness?

Permission?

Compassion?

A break?

Maybe all of those things.

Maybe something more.

As a Christian, the word grace carries a particular meaning for me.

Grace is not something we earn.

It is given.

In Paul’s second epistle to the Corinthians, he reminds us, "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.'" (II Corinthians 12:9).

Christian grace begins with God, not with our ability to deserve it. We don’t have to perform well enough, become good enough, fix ourselves enough, or finally get everything right before grace becomes available to us.

Grace is not an excuse for our humanity. It opens the door.

That is part of what makes grace...grace.

But I also recognize that not everyone sitting across from me in my office shares my faith.

Even among people who do, the word may carry different meanings and experiences.

For someone else, grace may have nothing to do with theology at all.

It may mean self-compassion.

Patience with yourself.

Recognizing your humanity.

Allowing yourself to make a mistake without turning that mistake into a definition of who you are.

And perhaps this is where these different understandings of grace touch one another.

Grace interrupts the need to earn compassion.

Think about how easily we offer context to other people.

She’s been through a lot.

He didn’t know then what he knows now.

Of course she’s overwhelmed.

She was doing the best she could.

He learned that because of what happened to him.

We can look at another person’s story and see complexity.

We understand that behavior has history.

That people adapt.

That fear comes from somewhere.

That sometimes people survive the only way they know how.

And then we turn toward ourselves.

Suddenly, all that context disappears.

I should have known better.

What’s wrong with me?

Why am I still doing this?

Why can’t I just get over it?

I should be further along by now.

No curiosity.

No context.

No history.

Just a verdict.

And perhaps grace begins by interrupting the verdict.

Grace does not mean pretending something didn’t happen.

It does not mean avoiding responsibility.

It does not mean everything we have done is acceptable simply because we can explain why we did it.

Understanding is not the same thing as excusing.

Sometimes we need to apologize.

Sometimes we need to change.

Sometimes we need to make amends.

Sometimes we need to stop doing something that is hurting ourselves or someone else.

But I have become increasingly unconvinced that we need to hate ourselves in order to change ourselves.

Grace is refusing to make condemnation the price of change.

What if understanding ourselves does not make us less accountable?

What if it actually makes meaningful change more possible?

Instead of:

What’s wrong with me?

Grace allows us to ask:

What happened that made this make sense?

Why does my body respond this way?

Why am I terrified when someone is disappointed in me?

Why do I say yes when everything inside me wants to say no?

Why do I feel guilty when I rest?

Why do I keep preparing for something bad to happen even when everything is okay?

Why does being needed sometimes feel safer than simply being loved?

Those are different questions.

They don’t begin with an accusation.

They begin with curiosity.

And curiosity allows us to discover something judgment rarely can:

Meaning.

Sometimes we look closely enough at our story and finally realize:

Oh.

Of course.

Of course I learned to do this.

Of course my body responds this way.

Of course this once helped me feel safe.

Of course I became good at anticipating what everyone else needed.

Of course I learned not to need very much myself.

That doesn’t mean I have to keep living this way.

It simply means I no longer have to despise the person who learned how.

This is what I have been trying to say all those times I have looked at someone and said:

“Give yourself some grace.”

I wasn’t telling them to let themselves off the hook.

I wasn’t saying their choices didn’t matter.

And I certainly wasn’t telling them that nothing needed to change.

I was asking them to make room for their own humanity.

To become curious before becoming condemning.

To offer themselves the same context they so generously offer everyone else.

To understand that who they are and what they learned to do to survive are not necessarily the same thing.

And perhaps I was asking them to consider something else:

You do not have to become a better version of yourself before you are worthy of compassion.

I wonder how many of us have unknowingly turned compassion into another reward for good behavior.

I’ll forgive myself when I do better.

I’ll rest when I’ve accomplished enough.

I’ll be proud of myself when...

I’ll accept my body when...

I’ll believe I’m worthy when...

There is always another condition.

Another requirement.

Another finish line.

We tell ourselves grace will come later.

After we have earned it.

But then it isn’t really grace, is it?

It is another performance contract.

I have realized this is why grace has become increasingly important to me over the last many years.

Because before we can understand ourselves, there has to be enough safety to look.

Before we can listen to what the body has been carrying, there has to be somewhere for its story to land.

Before we can understand why something made sense, we have to stop prosecuting ourselves long enough to become curious.

And before we can lay something down, perhaps we have to stop hating the part of ourselves that picked it up in the first place.

Grace opens the door.

This is what grace does, whether we encounter it through faith, compassion, relationship, in the secular world, or simply the unexpected experience of finally being understood.

It creates enough room for us to look at ourselves without immediately turning away.

So perhaps I need to change something in my own conversations with my clients.

The next time I find myself saying:

“Give yourself some grace.”

Maybe I shouldn’t assume we mean the same thing or that my clients fully understand the meaning behind the word as I am.

Maybe I should do what I have been asking teenagers to do for years.

Semantics.

“Tell me what grace means to you.”

Because their answer might tell me far more than I expected.

It might tell me what they believe about mistakes.

About forgiveness.

About worth.

About responsibility.

About whether love has to be earned.

About whether they believe they are allowed to be human.

And perhaps the question is worth asking ourselves, too.

What does grace mean to you?

And maybe an even harder question:

Do you believe you are allowed to receive it before you have earned it?

I know what my answer is…

As always, I write as a fellow traveler—not someone who has arrived, but someone learning to notice the journey while I am still on it. Please visit me on my website at Beach Counseling & Wellness Group of SC

Until next time…

Grace & Peace,

Dr. Michelle

Dr. Michelle Corey Colson, D. Min., MA, MA, LPCA
Psychotherapist • Christian Counselor • Life Coach

Founder, Beach Counseling & Wellness Group of SC.
Creator, The Grasoma Method™ — A Grace-Based Somatic Approach

“Walking Beside You as a Fellow Traveler”