What Thirty-Six Eggs Taught Me About Grace

I shouldn’t have stacked three cartons of eggs so high, but I was in a hurry. Normally, I would have braced the egg cartons with something sturdy so they would not fall all over the passenger side of my van. This time I forgot.

The inertia of the first turn out of the parking lot toppled the egg carton tower, and thirty-six eggs spilled onto the floor. Now fully free, they began to roll across the aisle and into the back seat, wobbling underneath the pedals unwilling to settle. Eggs are built to move.

I panicked. I began trying to grab them as they rolled past me, all the while driving in rush hour traffic with no obvious place to pull over and stop. The disorder inside my van certainly proved Newton’s second law of thermodynamics — the world is constantly moving towards chaos.

At every traffic light I was forced to slow down well in advance in order to manage the eggs. When the light turned green, I inched off the line, ever so slowly, much to the chagrin of the other drivers. They loudly shared their opinion of my sluggish driving — honking, shouting angry words and flashing middle fingers. To them, I was just someone getting in the way, an unforgivable sin in rush hour.

I tried to tell the other drivers what was going on. I mimed to them, shrugging my shoulders while holding up an egg to show them but something was certainly lost in translation. How could they know what was going on in my car?  How could I explain there were thirty-six eggs rolling around? I wanted them to know I was not a bad driver. I just had these eggs everywhere, and I was trying to get them home in one piece. Unfortunately, there is no universal sign for that.

Miraculously, I arrived home without breaking one egg. I certainly left some miffed drivers out on the road, and I’m sure I was the subject of a heated retelling at their dinner table.

Now, several years later, I am thinking about those eggs. With all that is going on in the world and the hatred I see spewed from people’s mouths against others, I am reminded of that day. When I see someone driving strangely or getting in my way — I remember.  When someone does something that feels strange, confusing, or even hurtful, I see those eggs rolling around in my car.

What I have come to understand about other people is that everyone is living with thirty-six eggs rolling around their car, sometimes more. We carry and bear through things that no one else will see, that would take hours to explain, and even then people might not fully understand what it is like to be us. Life can feel so lonely at times.

Every single person — no matter how perfect they look on the outside — has their own chaos, battles, weaknesses, distractions, and struggles. Every single person has hidden difficulties, family or relationship troubles, invisible/visible illnesses, addictions, intrusive thoughts, doubts, pain, poverty, trauma, or grief. There are body issues and disappointments, mental illness and negative self-talk, or unrelenting expectations on themselves or others. Some are parenting rebellious teens, caring for aging parents, or have a baby with colic. Every. Single. Person. Yes — even that person you just thought about.

The eggs take all our focus. It can make us oblivious to the world around us. Most of us are just trying to get home without breaking the eggs.

The Bible is the story of people with eggs. Each one trying to find their way in this strange world — fighting battles with odds that are against them. I am continuously surprised by how relatable the ancient stories are. But the good news is that the Bible is first and foremost a story of God’s relational love, compassion, and grace with these people. God has always known about the eggs, and specifically, he knows about your eggs.

If we want to be people who truly offer others grace, we need to start with grace for ourselves. St. Augustine said, “For grace is given not because we have done good works, but in order that we may be able to do them.” Receiving God’s grace for ourselves allows us to offer grace to those around us, and perhaps we can reach across the aisle, the pew, the hallway, and the street to offer a helping hand. In doing so, we can hold onto an egg or two and lighten the load just a bit.

I’m not asking you to fix everyone’s problems or to repeatedly take abuse. Jesus never asked us to do that. I’m just asking you to assume that there are thirty-six eggs rolling around on the floor of everyone else’s car, eggs that you can’t see, eggs that need extra special care. The grace we need is available from the Father, through Jesus, by the Holy Spirit.  It is ours in abundance. What a witness to a divided and frightened world if we tried to see each other’s eggs.

Where does this leave us? You pray for grace for me, and I will pray for grace for you, and we’ll try and not mind when we each drive slowly. And maybe, just maybe, we will all get home, eggs intact.

Lisa Nikkel lives with her husband and three children on the Canadian Prairies.  Most of her time is spent homeschooling her kids, writing, and studying to complete her Masters of Arts at Regent College. You can find more of her writing at lisanikkel.substack.com or @besidequietwaters on Instagram.