I was reminiscing earlier tonight about the last time I was in this neck ‘o the woods. It was about 25 years ago. Believe it or not, I used to be a Chamber of Commerce executive. I was Executive Director of a the Corry Area Chamber of Commerce, in the small Pennsylvania town of Corry. To make a long story short, I did what I believed was right in a particular situation, and by doing so, I committed policical suicide and was forced to “resign” (aka “get the heck out and we’ll let you maintain a little dignity”). Toward the end of my C of C career, I attended the Institute for Organization Management, an annual seminar event for Chamber Executives that was held in Newark, Delaware. I drove past Newark on my way to North East, Maryland earlier today.

It was my first trip anywhere close to the coast; We were land dwellers. In my experience, clams were breaded strips of mysterious, rubbery stuff that felt like rubber bands in your mouth. There was a clambake one night while we were at Institute, and I was intoduced to steamed Little Neck clams. That’s when the love affair began. I don’t get to eat them often, but I wasn’t about to spend a night in this neighborhood without spending part of it with a bucket of clams.

When I asked at the front desk, there was only one place recommended for seafood — Woody’s Crab House. I had done some homework in advance of the trip, and it didn’t take any selling to get me committed to the place. Woody’s is the kind of place that has brown kraft paper on the tables instead of tablecloths, and a solid core of regular customers who love to sit at those tables and beat steamed blue crabs with a wooden mallet. My supper was a big bucket of clams (3 dozen), a little container of drawn butter, and a Diet Sprite. YUM! What a wonderful delicacy!

What amazes me is that the locals don’t seem all that crazy about seafood. They like it, they eat it, but they don’t get excited about it. I think there’s so much of it that they take it for granted. In the mid-south, we’re kinda like that about barbecue. It’s everywhere–Sharon and I have lunch at Corky’s at least once every week. it’s so plentiful that we tend to take it for granted.

I wonder… are we the same way about God’s grace? It’s plentiful, and it’s everywhere we turn. Have we become so familiar with the Lord that we take Him for granted?

Lord, please don’t let me forget how wondeful, powerful, and precious your grace really is. You’ve done some pretty cool stuff in and through me — please don’t let me forget that it’s You, not me, who is the source of my success and the strength of my life. Thanks for being so lavish with your grace, even though I don’t deserve it.