A Circle of Forgiveness

As Christ grows greater in our minds, we lose our need to be authorities over what others think and do.

The deepening awareness that we have been wrong more than we have been right—that we are only now approaching the starting point of faith—creates a gentle tolerance for those now camped where we once stopped, or mired in the stuff from which Christ freed us. We learn to smile at vehemence and vitriol, remembering how frequently we used them for bad causes or when we were still unsure.

Grace makes us gracious to the ungraceful, for we see ourselves in them. We remember that their faults are just as pardonable as ours, and no more dangerous.

The fellowship of the forgiven is as vast as the grace that makes it possible.

So stay in grace.

Is It Too Good to Be True?

If you are truly saved through faith, then you are daily praying grace down into the cracks and crevices of life, into the dim and unlit corners where fear and fate and faithlessness more often hold the keys.

Understanding—really understanding—grace rarely happens through a flash of intellectual enlightenment: Paul’s own Damascus Road was just the first of many miles spent learning grace.

Each week we find how weak and meager is our faith, how little we actually trust the great bold verities announced by Jesus and His gospel, how much we fear that what He promises to give is too good to be true.

“Increase our faith” is the most honest prayer we ever murmur—and the one He most delights to answer.

So stay in grace.

When Everything Changes

Our pledges of good behavior are only as good as the people who make them—which is to say, not good at all.  The litter of our broken promises to change, reform, and improve ourselves stretches back like resolutions at the end of January.

And we aim too low. We have in mind trying to suppress our angry words. Christ has in mind an entirely new vocabulary grounded in the knowledge that we—and all others—are deeply loved by Him.  

We imagine chocolates as the foible we intend to fix. Jesus knows that fear is at the root of all our failing—fear of the Father, of each other, of the future. And so His first word to us at every moment of doubt and discouragement is an assurance of His care:  “You can stop being afraid now.” 

Grace always meets us where we are, but never leaves us where we were. The greatest and most joyful change is lived by those who most receive the gift of grace.

So stay in grace.

Sustainability

Breathe deeply now, and let your heart grow quiet as you turn from sins forgiven. “By this we shall know that we are of the truth, and reassure our hearts before Him whenever our hearts condemn us; for God is greater than our hearts, and He knows everything” (1 John 3:19-20).

It’s not the voice of God that drives you on to fear, or rush, or labor past your strength. 

We dare not make the Spirit own our anxiousness or lack of peace.  God is always on the side of what gives life, builds hope, and moves us even one small step toward balance. 

His grace is meant to keep us breathing, as well as for our saving.  The day that Jesus wants to bring us healing is the day that we are living, not only when our destinies are weighed.  “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10).

His grace is for today and always. 

So stay in grace.

When Politics Mislead us

How does God’s grace invade our daily conversations?

Certainly not by retreating to our separate corners and hurling brickbats at each other.  Of all the “stuff” we absorb from our angry culture, the habits of accusing and deriding are undoubtedly the worst. 

But as grace finds a home in us, we grow more willing to admit that we might be mistaken.  Receiving grace requires we confess we are wrong, and always have been.  We’ve misunderstood the love of God, imagining Him as only angry, always disappointed. We’ve wandered into deeds that brought us shame and guilt.  We’ve argued for ideas that were vanquished at the cross.  “All we like sheep have gone astray” (Is 53:6).

So grace prepares us for a new way of talking with each other, even when we disagree—especially when we disagree.  “You could be right”—"I might be wrong”: these are the tools of reconciliation and renewal.  Look carefully at grace before you look your opponent in the eye. 

There is no greater joy than laughing with a former enemy.  So stay in grace.

Environmental Truths

Below our deepest hurt and darkest shame, there is the grace of God—forgiving us, rebuilding us, repairing all that’s broken.

Above our highest joy and most euphoric moments, there is the sheer delight of God—applauding us, encouraging, enlarging celebration.

Through every stage of every journey—in trust, in fear; in faith, in doubt; in youth, in gray maturity—we’re never left alone or told to make it on our own.  Despite appearances, the road is never empty.

Around us each are Jesus’ everlasting arms—sustaining us, protecting us, embracing us. His hands are ever on us.

“For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things” (Rom 11:36).

“Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? . . . No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us” (Rom 8:39).

We are befriended by the One who rules all time and space. 

Receive the gift.  And stay in grace.

Drenched But Delighted

Come stand with me beneath the waterfall of grace.

There is no waiting line, no jostling for position. There are no elbows, scornful faces, or murmured whispers of contempt. No one here will keep you from receiving what your withered spirit needs. 

This is the fellowship of the redeemed. This is the company of those who gladly—daily—open their parched lives to the “washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit” (Titus 3:5).

Grace isn’t some scarce resource, guarded by the worthy, requiring conservation or close rationing as though it might run out. This is the river of life—re-life; renewal; resurrection—flowing from the grace of Him whose great forgiving is “a spring of water gushing up to eternal life” (John 4:4). 

Those who really “get” the grace of God keep pulling all those they love into the healing, rehydrating stream. The waterfall keeps getting wider. More and more will be revived.

Step out of dry and into drenched.

And stay in grace.

Upending Our Economy

The most famous story Jesus ever told was all about our struggle to receive the Father’s grace and love.         

One son insists he isn’t worthy of such kindness. The other argues that loyalty and self-sacrifice should count for more than grace in the father’s economy.  Each wants a different status than his father is bestowing.

But God’s family is founded on His gift of grace, not on our faithfulness or service. Receiving what Jesus is still offering requires we surrender all our notions of unworthiness or value.

Neither “wandering in a far country” nor “staying at home” prepares us to accept a gift that isn’t bound to our behavior. You cannot earn the Father’s love:  you cannot lose the Father’s love. 

Allow yourself a great embrace. Receive His love.

Then stay in grace.

Untiring Grace

Those who fear the coming triumph of grace sadly don’t know the love of which they are afraid.

They want a “gospel” that is really not “good news”—for its litany of “should,” “ought,” and “must” betrays that they don’t understand Jesus as the Author and Finisher of our faith.  They replace the long obedience of grateful love with hours of clenched teeth and self-flagellation, hoping He will notice and approve. They forget that “by His stripes we are healed.”

But I’m a witness that a day will come when each will meet the Love that will not let them go. Grace always knocks at shut doors, closed hearts, and frozen lives, awaiting that glad moment when we admit our helplessness and need.

If you know grace, then you’ve been warmed.

So stay in grace.

Grace Under Fire

Even in our ungracious world, there’s persisting admiration for the man or woman who demonstrates “grace under fire”—poised and composed under disheartening provocations. “It’s just a part of her character,” we enviously say, remembering how frequently we’ve fought our fires with fire.

And while there may be some gallant souls who didn’t consciously learn this grace from God, most we admire act graciously because they know the Giver of this gift.

Our growing awareness of how much we’ve been broken and how well we’ve been redeemed helps us sympathize with other broken people. It makes us long—yes, ache—to see their lives restored, renewed, rehealed. We live to give away what we’ve been given.

Grace had its origin in a love outside of us. It has its present—and its future—in loving well beyond ourselves.

So stay in grace.

The Number of Forgiveness

When we ask, “How often should I forgive?” we pretend what isn’t true—that there have only been a modest number of times when we required forgiveness. 

The answer from the Lord—and from an honest conscience—is that we ought to forgive as many times as we have been forgiven.  That number is unknowable, and, truth be told, steadily growing. 

Forgiveness is a way of being, not a sin-by-sin accounting system designed to make us all good recordkeepers.  It’s in the heart of Jesus to “not hold our sins against us,” to fully, wholly, and yes, joyfully erase the record of our sins when we confess and leave them.  And we’ll do the same for others when we candidly admit how much we’ve been forgiven.   

Grace knows no integers, no fractions, and no decimal points.  This is the life we live when we go walking with the Lord.

So stay in grace.

THE CHOICE THAT HEALS

Grace is always a choice—when God extends it to us, or we extend it to each other.

The decision to forgive, to not hold someone’s sins like death shrouds up against them, is always made in light of other options. No one can require God to love us unconditionally and forgive us unreservedly, for we are the broken, foolish ones who willfully transgressed His law.

And when the broken, foolish people around us disappoint or damage us, grace is a choice we make in echo of God’s kindness.

Only wounded hearts can offer forgiveness: only those with power to mete out penalties and vengeance can pour out grace instead. We are never more like Jesus than when we gift to those who injure us what neither they nor we deserve.

So stay in grace.

THE DAWN OF TRUST

Is there a greater joy than knowing for even one hour that you are in the center of God’s will—that through some miracle of grace, you are aligned with plans the Father made to win you back and win the hearts of those you love?

Is there a better confidence than the one which every Sabbath reminds you that “the earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein”? 

Can there be a deeper security than when Christ’s word of certainty penetrates your fears and doubts with the assurance, “He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together”?

The answers to those questions, friends, are “no,” “no,” and “no”—nothing "will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Your hope will rise; your joy will find its wings. Trust is the dawn from which our daylight grows.

So stay in grace.

All of Grace, Grace for All

“He’s so much better than I am,” we say, proving just how little we know of someone else’s life. “She’s a saint,” we say admiringly, assuming that the woman we can see is always just as good as we imagine.

We assign a top-notch grade to behaviors we observe, and make assumptions that the life consistency we can’t achieve is somehow available to others.

But grace reminds us of the brokenness we share—each one of us—regardless of the estimate of others. Behind the fair façade of piety and cool, we each know just how far we fall below the expectations of our God—and how each well-lived life is only, always, saved by grace.

All ranks, all grades, all estimates are vanities and not realities. If you can find a soul not absolutely saved by grace, then you have found the rarest form of human life.

Give up your search: there is no other way.

And stay in grace.

Gracefully Wrong

Most of us inherited a God no kinder than we were—a deity whose major role seemed meting out tough penalties for willful or impetuous mistakes. 

Like primitive believers everywhere, we read His displeasure in thunderstorms, bruised knees, and lost puppies—for was there anything for which we weren’t somehow to blame?

So it is that finding grace is the great unlearning of our past, the sweet and joyful discovery that in Jesus, our sins aren’t being counted against us. What we sang in innocence was actually, fundamentally true: “Jesus loves me”—genuinely loves me. He can’t imagine a greater happiness than enjoying my trust and affection.

How glorious to have been wrong about it all—to celebrate the truth that undermines our youthful foolishness and fear. His perfect love still casts out fear, and makes us wise unto salvation.

By grace, our thinking—and our living—is renewed. So stay in grace.

The Hero of the Story

We come naturally by our self-absorption. From our earliest moments, we’re congratulated for taking first steps, trying new foods, mastering new skills, for learning how to navigate the myriad complexities of an ever-widening world. The story is, and has always been, about us—our goals, our striving, our gaining, our getting.

But then one day the world refused to be our private oyster.  There was no pearl inside—just grit and sand and disappointment. And we began to long from somewhere deeper than the ocean floor for rescue from our pain, our foolishness, our disillusion with ourselves.

Enter the selfless hero who became one of us to teach us how to find the joy. The Pearl of great price offers each of us His priceless grace. In Jesus, we discover One who never disappoints, who never falls short of saving us, who never walks away in righteous indignation from our follies and our failures. He’s the friend who knows both when to speak and when to be silent, when to laugh and when to weep—the incomparable companion who merged His story with our own. “In Him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28).

His gracious offer of relief and liberation alters every other storyline. And yes, this hero always gets the last word.

So stay in grace.

PLAYFUL, JOYFUL, WE ADORE THEE

It’s every parent’s greatest joy to see a child at play—freely, joyously at play. And children—of whatever age—only play when they understand they’re safe—deeply, seriously safe.

We don’t play on battlefields, in lightning storms, or when we doubt we’ll ever see tomorrow. And so the God of Scripture frequently must wait until we’ve outlived our fears before we grasp the fullness of His affection. We spend a lifetime learning just how richly we are loved, and why our God is always murmuring, “Fear not.” “Be not afraid.” Or better yet, “You can stop being afraid now.”

Our Father is supremely patient, waiting for the day when we—at last—discover how kind He has always been, and grow accustomed to His goodness. “Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you” (Isaiah 30:18).

Unwind the spool of anxious thoughts that keep you wondering if you are loved, if Jesus deeply values you. Your joy today will be in measure with your trust.

And stay in grace.

Better Than We Know

At the heart of all we call our faith is a deepening trust that God’s heart is kinder than we were taught and more persistent than we ever knew.

For Him, all comparisons ultimately fall short. He is wiser than the best father; more nurturing than the most empowering mother; more companionable than the closest sibling. “There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother” (Prov 18:34).  

And He offers us, both now and in the end, what family never can—a relationship that transcends our relatives’ best moments and redeems their worst dysfunctions.

God’s grace is the unyielding embrace of One whose love cannot be won, or lost, or altered, or improved.

Receive the grace you were destined for. And stay in it.

Grace Kneels

Ah, to be the wounded one—the one who gets to be the powerful forgiver.  We covet this rare role because we’re usually more sinning than we’re sinned against.  And when it comes our turn to show the grace once given us, we linger with the choice, as if it were a heavy thing to pardon what’s been done.

We can’t, of course, refuse forgiveness outright:  Jesus tied our own forgiveness to the habit of forgiving.  But first, a little groveling, we say.  Some real contrition, perhaps a tear or ten.  Some promises to never—ever—injure us again.

And so we fall far short of grace.  We strike a lender’s bargain with the sinner:  pardon only if the penitent submits to our superiority. 

But grace is always washing someone’s feet—abandoning all power in the goal to make the sinner whole.  We cannot—dare not—charge for what was freely offered us.  If it’s not free, then it’s not grace.

Remind yourself of how forgiveness made you valuable to you.  And stay in grace.

The Canopy of Grace

No solo star will make the night sky glow, or cause a child to wonder, or make us long for heaven. It takes a universe of lights—some bold, some near, some strangely warm—to build the canopy on which we see great sights and dream our greater dreams. So it is among believers: we are never solo stars. We all are stars in constellations built by God: your strength; my song; her witness; his compassion. There are, my friends, no accidents in how we come to faith. The great Creator so arranges lives and times that we find light—and we discover grace—through all who “shinelikestars in the world” (Phil 2.15). Discover now the joy of sharing faith with those Christ knows will build your hope. And stay in grace.