At work, I hear this phrase a lot: “Err on the side of grace.” If my boss, the senior pastor, has said it to me once . . .he has said it 1,000 times. I've told y'all about that phrase many times.
It’s definitely good advice. It’s the kind of advice that sounds simple…until you actually try to live it out.
Because if I’m being honest, I really love the idea of extra grace—for me.
I love it when someone assumes the best about my intentions. When they give me the benefit of the doubt. When they overlook my mistakes, my forgetfulness, my less-than-best moments, and choose kindness anyway.
Extra grace feels like a deep breath. Like room to be human.
But extending that same extra grace to others?
That can be harder than I want it to be.
Sometimes it’s hard because I’m tired. Sometimes it’s because I only see the surface of someone’s behavior, not the story behind it. Sometimes it’s because I’ve already decided what I think—and grace requires me to loosen my grip on being right. And let's face it. I like to be right! I'm a number one on the enneagram!
If I’m really honest, it’s because grace often feels unfair.
Why should they get a pass? Why should I overlook that?
But “err on the side of grace” doesn’t mean pretending things don’t matter. It doesn’t mean ignoring hurt or avoiding truth.
It means choosing a posture.
It means deciding, ahead of time, that I will lean toward kindness instead of criticism (this is also VERY difficult for me). Toward curiosity instead of assumption. Toward patience instead of frustration.
It means remembering that I rarely know the full story.
So what does extra grace look like in real life?
It looks like pausing before I respond—especially when I feel irritated.
It looks like asking a question instead of making an assumption (why, oh why . . . can't I remember to pause and breathe and ask a question before I start making assumptions).
It looks like giving someone a second chance without making them earn it first.
It looks like softening my tone, even when I have something hard to say.
It looks like remembering a time when I needed grace—and letting that memory shape how I show up for someone else.
And sometimes, it looks like extending that same grace inward.
Because I can be my own harshest critic. Back to the Enneagram . . .a 1 on the Enneagram is a perfectionist and she has a constant voice in her head that criticizes everything she does . . .I'm using she instead of me/my/I . . .because it is ridiculous!
I can replay conversations, second-guess decisions, and hold myself to a standard I would never expect anyone else to meet.
Extra grace for others matters.
But extra grace for myself?
That matters too.
Maybe that’s where it starts.
Because when I remember what it feels like to receive grace—real, undeserved, generous grace—it becomes just a little bit easier to pass it along.
So today, I’ll try again.
I’ll err on the side of grace.
I’ll add a little extra where I can.
And I’ll trust that even when it feels small, grace has a way of making life better—for everyone it touches.
What about you? Do you extend grace freely? to others? to yourself?
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