Always Amazing

Fast-forward, if you can, to scenes our hearts are aching to be in. Redeemed at last from all the brokenness, the pettiness, the pain of earthly life, we stand before the throne with those from every nation, tribe, and people, breathing in the air of heaven and singing at the top of our lungs, “Salvation belongs to our God” (Rev 7:10).

Does even one hand go up to get the Lord’s attention? — “I need to be sure my good deeds are recorded, that my sacrifice is written down somewhere.”

“Preposterous,” you say—and right you are. It’s simply unimaginable that anyone who’s covered by the blood of Jesus would take some credit for a rescue owing just to Him. So why is it we now persist in counting up our virtues? Isn’t it evidence enough that we too often fail to grasp the overwhelming, undergirding goodness of our God?

Grace is better than we first believed, more sweeping than we now believe, more joyous than we’ll ever believe. Put down your hand. Lift up your voice. The grace will always be amazing.

So stay in grace.

—Bill Knott

Never Walk Alone

It’s a pandemic for the ages.  

Even though we’re more “connected” than ever, a tidal wave of loneliness has washed around the world.

Eight billion cell phones aren’t enough if people talk to fewer friends, never share a walk or meal, or leave important things unsaid. Our bodies and our minds insist that we be with someone.

And so the first name given Jesus in the Gospels is “Immanuel”—“God with us”—the One who shares the walk, who shares the meal; the One who promises to never leave us alone. 

Companionship is just the thing our haggard hearts are craving. When knowledge fails to satisfy; when income fails to multiply; when only fears solidify, we want a friend—a graceful friend—who will be always on our side. “Love never ends” (1 Cor 13:8). 

Grace is the offer of a Friend who pledges, “I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you” (Joshua 1:5).

Share the journey. And stay in grace.

—Bill Knott

All are Gifted

We are wary for good reasons. We’ve had too much of hurt, of wounds, of promises that didn’t deliver. Nothing “too good to be true” should ever be believed. 

But grace presents us with impossibly good things—all backed up by the God who cannot lie and never exaggerates. “As far as the east is from the west, so far He removes our transgressions from us” (Ps 103:12). “A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you” (Eze 36:26).

Was there ever better news? Can the God we’ve so much offended be the same who offers us a rich, forgiven, guilt-free life when we believe in Jesus? “In Him every one of God’s promises is a ‘Yes’” (2 Cor 2:20).

Grace is the gift we’ll never earn from Him whose love we’ll never lose. What once we thought impossible is true and free and good—and ours.

So stay in grace. 

—Bill Knott

Beyond Belief

It takes a lot to surprise the authors of the Bible. 

In the pages of Scripture, we find unflinchingly honest stories about every kind of failing—adultery, murder, cruelty, abuse. Nothing human is foreign to them.  But they were startled—even shocked—at the undeserved and unexpected mercy of God for broken people like us. 

Listen to Paul: “Now, most people would not be willing to die for an upright person, though someone might perhaps be willing to die for a person who is especially good. But God showed His great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners” (Rom 5:7-8).

The apostle John echoes the astonishment:  “See how very much our Father loves us, for He calls us His children, and that is what we are!” (1 John 3:1).

The grace of God is always more—more powerful than our darkest failings; more thorough than our best attempts to put ourselves in order; more persistent than our deepest loyalties. “Love never gives up” (1 Cor 13:7). 

Receive the gift that never ceases to amaze. 

And stay in grace. 

—Bill Knott

Does God Hear Me?

When warm light floods the living room and laughter visits along with friends, we bless the grace of God for making all our good days better.   

But when the rain slants heavily across our midnight loneliness, is grace still real? Is God still good?  

The greatest saints this world has known are full unanimous on this: God’s grace is undiminished by the dark, the cold, the prison cell, the illness and the tears.  

For just such hours and just such years the witness of God’s Word is clear: “He reached down from heaven and rescued me; He drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemies, from those who hated me and were too strong for me” (Psa 18.16-17) “The Lord’s arm is not too weak to save you, nor is His ear too deaf to hear you call” (Isa.59.1). 

Yes, grace is justly celebrated when harmonies rise heavenward, and massive choirs proclaim the beauty of redemption. But grace is even better known when tearful, solo saints exclaim: “From the depths of despair, O Lord, I call for Your help. Hear my cry, O Lord. Pay attention to my prayer” (Psa 130:1-2).

Call out for grace in any hour. God hears your voice: it doesn’t take a choir. 

And stay in grace. 

—Bill Knott

And There Was Hope

A century ago, the poet wept: “Things fall apart. The centre cannot hold.”  And after greater blood and anarchy, who dares to argue with him? Pollyannas need not apply.  

And yet, sweet children are still softly kissed before they dream each night. Young lovers stroll and plan for lives that still unfold. The vendor at the corner store still offers us a smile with every morning’s purchase. 

What keeps our world above the “blood-dimmed tide” that threatens to engulf us?  

According to the Word of God, it is His grace that still preserves our loves and tenderness. Even the world-ending cataclysm the Bible teaches us about is not rushed—while mercy does its work:  “The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish but all to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9).

Your good job; your fresh love; your next breath—all are made possible by love that will not let us go. Between the haste and pain; among the litter of our sins; through all the litany of obstinance and ignorance—the grace of God preserves, sustains, and offers hope. 

There is no depth grace cannot reach; no foolishness it can’t undo.  Grace is another word for hope. 

So stay in grace.

—Bill Knott

He Always was Humble and Kind

Name any virtue dear to you, and there’s one grace behind it.

Even the Bible’s best-known virtues— “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Gal 5:22-23)—grow from one even more remarkable quality: humility.

Love means putting others before ourselves; joy is joining in another’s glee. Peace emerges when we quiet the clamoring of ego; kindness acts to bless another. Faithfulness means being loyal to someone other than ourselves. Gentleness and self-control are how we act when we respect the dignity of others.

This undergirding grace of humility is best seen in Jesus Himself, who acted toward us as only true virtue could: “Though He was God, He did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, He gave up His divine privileges; He took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When He appeared in human form, He humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross” (Phil 2:6-7).

Only magnificent humility would offer saving grace to undeserving folks like us. As we learn Christ’s humility, we grow in grace—and virtues. “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being changed into His likeness from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor 3:18).

Learn whose you are. And stay in grace.

–Bill Knott

Rehearsing the Gospel

When we were children, practicing was frequently the bane of our existence.

Endless loops of cursive handwriting; sticky valves on rented clarinets; stubborn keyboard ivories that mocked our stubby fingers. Practicing brought little joy as we outlasted clocks.

But then, perhaps, we found some sweet proficiency—some pleasing skill still short of smooth perfection. We scored the winning soccer goal; our fingers or our voices shared a recognizable tune. 

And so it is as we learn grace. Against the backward pressure of our fears, we sing to others and ourselves of mercy when we least deserve it; of God’s rich kindness finally overwhelming all our callousness. We now rehearse the stories of what Jesus did; what He is doing; what He will do. “For since our friendship with God was restored by the death of His Son while we were still His enemies, we will certainly be saved through the life of His Son” (Rom 5:10).  

Practicing the gospel is all about repeating what is really true against the echo of our past. The Father still calls prodigals back home; embraces all who stumble on the way; forgives the ones who never seem to get the tune just right. Day by day, we grow in grace as we remind ourselves of Jesus’ blood and righteousness. 

Keep practicing until you’re sure He got it right. And stay in grace.

—Bill Knott

The Honest Truth

When all our boasts are at an end; when no one’s left we might impress; when all our tales of make believe have not made anyone believe—we stare into the mirror that reveals our brokenness and pain.

Hard as it is, this is the moment richer life begins. Reduced by circumstance and time to being honest with ourselves, we reach for help we cannot give ourselves. “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have all turned to our own way, and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all” (Isa 53:6).

We fear such honesty will leave us lonely, loveless, miserable. But God sees in our honesty the genesis of life renewed. “‘Come now, let us settle the matter,’ says the Lord. ‘Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool’” Isa 1:18).

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (I John 1:9). The honesty that seemed to seal our doom is actually the doorway to restored and joyful life.

Grace changes our reality, not only our self-image. Made right with God through Jesus Christ, we grow into the kinder, wiser, honest souls whom we were always meant to be.

The mirror doesn’t lie. And neither does the Lord.

So stay in grace.

—Bill Knott

The Song of the Redeemed

I sing the solo grace “that saved a wretch like me,”—and so I should. Without it, I would be forever lost and never found.

But grace is more than what God does for me, though there may never be a hymn to fully capture that.

Grace is the Spirit moving in a hundred hearts when reconciliation is proclaimed from pulpits or on hillsides. “For there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by His grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (Rom 3:22-24).

Grace is the grip of someone I’ve offended who offers a forgiving hug, even when I haven’t gotten to “I’m sorry.” Grace is the circle of believers, certain of their brokenness, who willingly embrace the addict, the obnoxious, the pariah.

Just like the Child who was born to us, grace is God’s truth for all of us—on us; for us; with us; through us. “To all who received Him, who believed in His name, He gave power to become children of God” (John 1:12).

We teach each other of this shareable redemption by not insisting on our rights; by silencing our cutting words; by holding those who seem intent on pushing us away. We live this grace together in a fellowship encouraging forgiveness.

Pray for the eyes to see this wider grace, to sing this fuller song.

And you will stay in grace.

—Bill Knott

Unwearied Love

The finest things that we can say are sometimes framed as negatives. Here’s one: “Love never gives up, never loses faith” (1 Cor 13:8). 

That’s why we celebrate what the Bible so often calls God’s “steadfast love”—His unchanging, unyielding, untiring affection for every human being. 

He doesn’t warm to us when we are nice on sunny Tuesdays—or grow remote and cold when we stay home from church. He doesn’t offer, like some parents, affection earned by good behavior. He doesn’t icily withdraw into the vastness of His universe when we play gossip, doubter, thief, or prodigal.  

He pledges His good will toward us with an unshakeable tenacity we can’t begin to grasp, never mind reciprocate. In Him, “there is never the slightest variation or shadow of inconsistency” (James 1:17).

“As far as the east is from the west, so far does He remove our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12). 

Grace is the face God turns toward us when in our shame we cannot bear to look at Him. And still He urges, “Look to Me and be saved, all the ends of the earth” (Isa 45.22). 

Look now, and be amazed. You’ll never be the same. 

Then stay in grace.

-—Bill Knott

A Covenant for Wanderers

Make covenants, not resolutions, as you walk into the year, for covenants give us company in keeping what we pledge. A resolution with no witness is too often just a wish, a good intention with nothing but our declining willpower to make the vital difference.

The covenants we really need are bigger than our diets and more urgent than our visits to the gym. We need companions to whom we’ll make the most important promises of all: to tell each other just the truth; to remind each other of how good the gospel is; to continue walking side by side through any guilt or fear the new year brings.

Agree with someone in your life—a spouse, a friend, another sinner saved by grace—with whom you’ll travel in days ahead—by phone, by app, by real steps on real roads. Pledge perseverance, not perfection, for walking with another sinner will reveal how much you both need constant grace. 

And when you stumble, as you will, a hand will lift you up, and brush you off, and help you keep on walking.

As this year starts, invite some other to what Jesus now invites you: “Come walk with me: keep covenant.”           

That’s how you’ll stay in grace.

—Bill Knott

Grace to Forget

Each year, as New Year’s Day arrives, believers wrestle quietly with one of the Apostle Paul’s most puzzling assertions: “One thing I do, forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal” (Phil 3:13-14). 

How—exactly—is it possible to “forget what lies behind”? 

The year just lived was full of slights and insults:  they fester unforgettably each time that face or name appears.

The year just past brought wounds—both planned and unintentional. Can willing it remove the evidence of scars? 

The year gone by saw failures—ours and others—whose effects cannot be trimmed by noting January 1. Will the famed power of positive thinking erase the pain of choices we or others made?

We only can forget what we’ve forgiven—done by us, or done by others. And we only can forgive when we’re forgiven—by a power outside ourselves who cannot lie. God “never changes or casts a shifting shadow” (James 1:17). 

“God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them” (2 Cor 5:19).

What God forgets, we safely can forget. When God forgives, we find His grace to add our own, releasing others and ourselves from all of last year’s failures. 

Grace doesn’t simply turn the page. It sees, acknowledges, forgives—and gradually forgets. The year ahead will help us practice our forgetting.

So stay in grace.

—Bill Knott

Infant Lowly

It’s the most frequently portrayed scene in all of human history. 

Four-year olds sketch out the wise men, sheep, and cattle.  Sculptors craft three human figures beneath a simple roof, and we fill in the rest. Churches erect elaborate crèches, some with anxious animals, some with freezing actors. Billions of gilded Christmas cards imagine this one moment in its gentle innocence.   

Why does the story of a humble birth 2000 years ago transfix a weary world? Because it is supremely a story of hope, of resistance, of pushing back against the dreadful narrative of death and power and pain. “In Him was life, and the life was the light of all people.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it” (John 1:4-5).

Jesus entered this life we live by the low road, though He owns all roads that ever were. He was worshipped—yes, adored—by midnight shepherds stained with mud—men ignored by all the proud and powerful, though He is rightfully worshipped by archangels,  universal praise, and choirs. “God chose things despised by the world, things counted as nothing at all, and used them to bring to nothing what the world considers important” (1Cor 1:28).

Jesus always gives Himself to those brought low by circumstance or grief—the poor, the poorly treated, the poor in spirit—the folks who cannot turn the world their way.  Beginning from the bottom, He lifts all of us toward heaven.

Embrace this Child. Your hope and joy will also rise.

And you will stay in grace.

The Night Will Be Light

Our fascination with the stars is as old as . . . one gorgeous night in Eden. As darkness first descended on God’s rich, untrammeled world, there was no fear, no threat, no shying from the shadows. A dazzling panoply of stars entranced the first two humans ever subject to their brilliance, mystery, and power.

We name them just to tame them—just to counterfeit some ownership over what we never can control. We search for patterns, figures, shapes. We stare as fragments of their shining streak across our sky.

But only once in all the history of the world did those the world counts wise pick up, strike tents, and follow what they couldn’t grasp or own. “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw His star as it rose, and we have come to worship Him” (Matt 2:2).

What grace is this that leads us on to Jesus? How much like God to hang a symbol in the night that brings us to His Son! “‘I will be found by you,’ says the Lord. ‘I will end your captivity and restore your fortunes’” (Jer 29:14).

Grace calls us first to see, and then to wonder, then to follow with our lives.

Journey to the Child this Christmas, and discover once again how hope is rising in your night.

And stay in grace.

Never was a War

It’s a tough time to be selling “Peace on Earth.”

In the Christmas Shoppe at the megastore, elves and reindeer move briskly out the door. Nativity scenes in warm pastels are inner-lit with bulbs and cheer. Miles and miles of twinkling lights unwind from endless shelves.

But who is buying “Peace on Earth?”

At first, it seems a quaint anachronism, harking back to simpler times and well-tuned carolers. But now, we fear our neighbors will think us terribly insensitive to be flaunting anything of peace when kids are dying in Kfar Aza, in Gaza, in Kharkiv.

How can the gospel still proclaim a peace on earth that is so rarely lived or loved?

The night sky circling Bethlehem 2000 years ago did not proclaim the end of wars or banish human savagery. What angels sang—and shepherds hoped, and wise men followed, and a weary couple trusted—was that heaven is fully on our side.

There was no war—there is no war—between the heart of God and those He calls His sons and daughters. “For this is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). The birth of our Messiah sang to fearful, doubting folks like us what always has been true: “God was in Christ personally reconciling the world to Himself—not counting their sins against them” (2 Cor 5:19).

Grace is the anthem of God’s attitude toward us. Peace is His gift for all who choose the Child who was born to us.

So stay in grace.

Watching Over Us

It’s a story filled with angels, and so a story filled with grace.  

An angel reveals to an aged priest that his wife will bear a son named John. The angel Gabriel announces to a virgin that she will be the mother of the promised Messiah, whose very name announces our salvation. Her fiancé—like Joseph of old, a man of dreams—is counseled by an angel to welcome the gracious plan devised by heaven to save the world.

Another angel declares to startled shepherds that the Messiah has been born in Bethlehem, and the night sky shines like noon as thousands of angels celebrate the grace gifted to us.

As the story of Jesus’ birth so richly shows, grace is always reaching out to weary, broken people like us. Carpenters and homemakers, shepherds and preachers—to each of us comes the good news that “the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen His glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).

Every time we fear that we are desperately alone, heaven reminds us, as the poet says, that “There are angels in these fields.”

Grace is always singing somewhere—in our homes, our churches, and the places where we work. Good news rides on wings of light.  

So stay in grace.

Full of Grace and Truth

“If you would tell me, tell me true,” a wise old man once said. “There isn’t time enough for lies.”

And when we’ve polished all our trophies, and sung again our victory songs, we come at last to stories too painful to be false. Each honest story unwraps our wounds, our hurts—as well as those we’ve given.

We grieve the loved ones whom we’ve lost—a spouse; a friend; a much-loved child—though some of them still live and breathe. We mourn the loss of innocence; we’ve soaked up toxic sums of greed. We laugh at violence and war; we cheer for “heroes” who display our poorest human qualities. We feel the sadness for what’s never fixed or mended or repaired.

And so it’s not an accident that we know more of Jesus as a healer than any other role. He stepped into the broken story of our world with grace that made the lepers dance and unlocked tongues that never spoke. He gave the parents back lost children; He cast out evil spirits and refashioned sin-sick attitudes. He told us of a Father who kindly waits for us to finish playing prodigal.

And when He died to heal us of our greatest hurt, He took our pain and made it His. “He was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the punishment that made us whole, and by His bruises we are healed” (Isa 53:5-6).

The good news is that grace still heals. It closes wounds; it soothes our scars. And someday soon, it leads us home.

So stay in grace.

—Bill Knott

All are Gifted

We are wary for good reasons. We’ve had too much of hurt, of wounds, of promises that didn’t deliver. Nothing “too good to be true” should ever be believed. 

But grace presents us with impossibly good things—all backed up by the God who cannot lie and never exaggerates. “As far as the east is from the west, so far He removes our transgressions from us” (Ps 103:12). “A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you” (Eze 36:26).

Was there ever better news? Can the God we’ve so much offended be the same who offers us a rich, forgiven, guilt-free life when we believe in Jesus? “In Him every one of God’s promises is a ‘Yes’” (2 Cor 2:20).

Grace is the gift we’ll never earn from Him whose love we’ll never lose. What once we thought impossible is true and free and good—and ours.

So stay in grace. 

Beyond Biology

Where does kindness come from?

Nothing in the narrative of evolutionary biology can tell us why one human would act with compassion or thoughtfulness toward another. In a world where survival alone is supposed to be the highest goal, nothing disinterested happens. All human behaviors should only produce results for the one doing them.

Yet kindness exists. Parents nurture children, and not only to perpetuate their genetic line. Friends do “unnecessary” things for each other—providing emotional support in grief or loss or change. Even sworn enemies surprise us by laying down their weapons to offer comfort to the wounded.

The Bible tells us that all good things, including acts of kindness, grow from the kindness that began with God: “Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change” (James 1:17).

God’s enduring kindness toward each of us—for every human being is created in His image—flows from His heart of grace. “No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 8:39).

The grace of God moves every act of mercy and forgiveness. Receive that love. Then move the kindness forward.

And stay in grace.