The Gospel of Grace

"The American church today accepts grace in theory but denies it in practice" (Manning, 16).

"As Jesus passed on from there, He saw a man named Matthew sitting at the tax office. And He said to him, 'Follow Me.' So he arose and followed Him. Now it happened, as Jesus sat at the table in the house, that behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and sat down with Him and His disciples. And when the Pharisees saw it, they said to His disciples, 'Why does your Teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?' When Jesus heard that, He said to them, 'It is not the healthy who need the doctor, but the sick. Go and learn the meaning of the words: 'Mercy is what pleases me, not sacrifice. And indeed I came to call not the upright, but sinners'(Matthew 9:9-13)."

Brennan Manning expounds on the Gospel of Grace in his book The Ragamuffin Gospel,

"The Kingdom is not an exclusive, well-trimmed suburb with snobbish rules about who can live there. No, it is for a larger, homelier, less self-conscious caste of people who understand they are sinners because they have experienced the yaw and pitch of moral struggle'(23) and 'The gospel of grace nullifies our adulation of televangelists, charismatic superstars, and local church heroes. It obliterates the two-class citizenship theory operative in many American churches. For grace proclaims the awesome truth that all is gift. All that is good is ours, not by right, but by the sheer bounty of a gracious God. While there is much we may have earned- our degree, our salary, our home and garden, a Miller Lite, and a good night's sleep- all this is possible only because we have been given so much: life itself, eyes to see and hands to touch, a mind to shape ideas, and a heart to beat with love. We have been given God in our souls and Christ in our flesh. We have the power to believe where others deny, to hope where others despair, to love where others hurt. This and so much more is sheer gift; it is not reward for our faithfulness, our generous disposition, or our heroic life of prayer. Even our fidelity is a gift. 'If we but turn to God,' said St. Augustine, 'that itself is a gift of God.' My deepest awareness of myself is that I am deeply loved by Jesus Christ and I have done nothing to earn it or deserve it" (25).

Sitting in A/C operated, four-walled, roofed rooms, holding leather bound Bibles with embroidered signatures, and fluffing about with our newly ingrained phrases of spiritual or philosophical eccentricity gets old...fast. We get complacent and lazy and treat the heart of Jesus as if it were some mysterious insignia meant only to be poked and prodded with from a distance. Then we dishonorably pass this off as humble and gracious word offerings that allow us to rot selfishly in our own disarray of His majesty and our depravity- never closing the gap. I've done this...and felt proud of myself after. With a string of tiny, inane moments of self-pity and false-worship, the ego becomes covered and canopied with a sense of entitlement to the right hand of God's throne.

I was talking with a friend of mine discussing the realities of what it felt like to go to South Africa [not to imply that one would need to go to South Africa to encounter this] and introduce ourselves to people whom we, in a matter of days, were standing above their graves; befriending people on the precipice of passing. For me, one of the things this made me wonder about was, 'What is it all about? Whatever it is I do in Your name, Lord, what is the point and is it of Your heart?' There was a bare-naked truth to the gospel of grace I had not experienced happening.

No more ruminations in the A/C room about how one felt about a spoon-fed scripture verse were needed- simply prayer, presence, and compassion. The role of love had less justification as an advocate then it did as a recipient. Realizing this, I felt caught up in a web of hierarchical spirituality that at the heart of it was the idea that I was not good enough...not old enough...not pure enough...not smart enough...not prayerful enough...not (fill-in-blank) enough to receive the beloved embrace of my Abba and to give it. In other words, there was always 'work to be done' to bask in the effervescing light of The Creator, before I could shine that light on others.

In response to 2 Corinthians 12:9 [...my grace is enough for you: my power is at its best in weakness...], Manning writes,

"Whatever our failings may be, we need not lower our eyes in the presence of Jesus. Unlike Quasimodo, the hunchback of Notre Dame, we need not hide all that is ugly and repulsive in us. Jesus comes not for the super-spiritual but for the wobbly and the weak-kneed who know they don't have it all together, and who are not too proud to accept the handout of amazing grace. As we glance up, we are astonished to find the eyes of Jesus open with wonder, deep with understanding, and gentle with compassion" (Manning, 28).

Observing the bewildered and dying in a raw manner forced me to contemplate how big 'my agenda/my role/my opinion' was in the grand scheme of things. We have to constantly allow an inner-death to take place when we confront reality in the backdrop of a cozy discipleship. For those of us who have experienced the lull of privilege, consider yourself blessed when that background becomes front and center. One professor of mine called it being 'broken for the ordinary'.

Some of us are deeply weighed down by the pressures of legalistic Christians. The god of the legalistic Christian is 'unpredictable, erratic, and capable of all manner of prejudices. When we view God this way, we feel compelled to engage in some sort of magic to appease Him' (Manning, 40).

But this is your God- the God of the gospel of grace. He is a God who,

"out of love for us, sent the only Son he ever had wrapped in our skin. He learned how to walk, stumbled and fell, cried for His milk, sweated blood in the night, was lashed with a whip and showered with spit, was fixed to a cross, and died whispering forgiveness on us all" (Manning, 40).

There are circumstances in life that place a buffer between much of the world's sufferings and our own which can transmit a sense of guilty discipleship. If our hearts can tame that discord though, we can alleviate ourselves from the chains of good works and grow a tender desire to be the hands and feet of Jesus. His heart was not only meant to be poked and prodded with in intellectual awe, but to be consumed and forged in love for the poor in spirit, the weeping, the meek, the merciful, the hungry and thirsty for righteousness, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted in His name [Matthew 5:3-12, Luke 6:20-26], the parched and starved, the black sheep, the repulsively naked, the suffering, and the imprisoned [Matthew 25:31-46].

Many Christians might struggle with blameworthiness, but service in the name of 'my guilt' is not a reflection of God's love.  On the surface there might be talk of virtue, social justice, philosophical observations, things that are comical or fascinating, but things meant to deviate from the source of our pain. With knowledge of the 'what', self-condemnation might supersede such drive. We are yet to find a true liberation of grace within the areas of life our soul cries out for. We are yet to allow the yoke of guilt to be lifted. For me I needed to hear: 'It's not your fault' and I needed to hear it over...and over...and over again.

There is a cool song from Switchfoot called 'Always' (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=85vi2pB1T5c&feature=related). The lyrics go:

This is the start
This is your heart
This is the day you were born
This is the sun
These are your lungs
This is the day you were born

And I am always yours

These are the scars
Deep in your heart
This is the place you were born
This is the hole
Where most of your soul
Comes ripping out
From the places you’ve been torn

And it is always yours
But I am always yours

Hallelujah!
I’m caving in
Hallelujah!
I’m in love again
Hallelujah!
I’m a wretched man
Hallelujah!
Every breath is a second chance

And it is always yours
And I am always yours

This song, so fragile and moving, helps me reflect on where God loves and showers His grace upon me. It did not look like plaques or degrees of knowledge, praise, or accomplishment, it did not look like me punching out Church-attendance cards, leading mission trips, bible studies, or any thing like it.

No.

MY start, MY heart, MY lungs, MY scars, MY day of being born anew will ALWAYS look like 15-year-old, brokenhearted, guilt-ridden, tear-driven, dumbfounded, little Ryan face down on his knees, in the center of a dark bed room, joyous from the whispers of God's forgiveness roaring deep into my bones and completely enveloped in a well of God's grace made sufficient for me in all my unending weakness.

He is always yours. He will prevail through the strongholds of self-induced cages, the shadows of guilt-built basements, and the nooks and crannies of calloused hearts.

There's no need to pick yourselves up by the boot-straps as Manning states. Surrender. Hallelujah, we are wretched sons and daughters given the grace to cave in and the breath to sing and dance a second chance.

This is Love and Grace in the purest, most unabashed form and it's

always

yours.