Outrageous Grace

Grace.

 

My first thoughts when I hear the word grace are of forgiveness and second chances and 'how sweet the sound'.  But they're quiet, unassuming, gentle ideas.  'Grace' conjures up someone who is just too nice, someone who is slow to anger and quick to forgive.

 

It is a sanitised, domesticated, safe word.

 

But it is not what God means by 'grace'.

 

Yes, God is slow to anger, quick to forgive and quick to love.  But His grace is also outrageous.  It is offensive and provocative and unbelievable.

 

It doesn't make sense.  It doesn't add up.  It isn't fair.

 

Those who are 'good' are no more entitled to it than those who are worse than the worst.  It has nothing to do with us and everything to with Jesus.  It is free for those who want it.  It is available to Christians, Atheists, 'good' people, charity workers, those in need of charity, the homeless, teachers, the uneducated, doctors, the sick, lawyers, law-breakers, children, adults, men, women.  It is available to all who want it.

 

It can't be bought, it can't be fathomed, it can't be exhausted.

 

I love this verse in Romans which describes it:

"Sin didn’t, and doesn’t, have a chance in competition with the aggressive forgiveness we call grace.  When it’s sin versus grace, grace wins hands down.  All sin can do is threaten us with death, and that’s the end of it.  Grace, because God is putting everything together again through the Messiah, invites us into life—a life that goes on and on and on, world without end."

 

[Romans 5:20-21 MSG]

 

The aggressive forgiveness we call grace.

 

Grace is not gentle, or softly-spoken.  It does not tiptoe around the edge of awkward situations.  It does not turn its back on our sin.

 

Instead, it plunges into our chaotic, sinful mess and invites us into life - deep, fulfilled, whole, true, eternal life.

 

Perhaps instead of singing John Newton's famous hymn, we should sing,

 

Outrageous grace

How fierce the sound

That saved a wretch like me.

 

 

Loving At All Is A Risk

I had the TV on in the background today whilst I was doing some ironing.  I'm not sure what was on - if it was an advert, a trailer, or part of a programme - but I heard the following line, which has been stuck in my mind ever since:

 

"Loving at all is a risk."

 

Love is a risk.

 

C. S. Lewis famously wrote,

 

"To love at all is to be vulnerable.  Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken.  If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal.  Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.  But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change.  It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable."

 

Last week, I watched a bit of the second Pirates of the Caribbean film.  The 'baddie' in the film is Davey Jones: a man who had his heart broken once and, to avoid further pain, removed it and locked it away in a chest.  He carries the key to the chest about his person at all times, to prevent it ever being touched, or hurt, or broken again.

 

I know there have been times when I have felt like doing the same (obviously metaphorically, not literally).  I have been tempted to shut down my heart, to close for business, to put up a 'Trespassers will be prosecuted' sign.  I have been tempted to shut down and shut the world out.

 

But whilst shutting our hearts down like this will certainly minimise pain, it will also numb all emotion.  We will be safe from harm, but we will also be cut off from true love, real friendship, genuine happiness.  We will miss out on all of the good things that life has to offer.

 

Love is a risk.

 

And we see the ultimate risk-taking love when we look to the cross.  There we see a naked, beaten, vulnerable man bearing His soul to show us His love.

 

Even with no guarantee of the return of our love or affection, God loved us.

 

"But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

[Romans 5:8 NIV]

 

God showed His love for us.  Powerfully, passionately, personally. 

 

Loving at all is a risk.  But it is worth it.

 

 

You Can't Ask 'Why?'

I have just been to watch 'Anna Karenina' at an independent cinema. 

 

I wasn't particularly familiar with the storyline beforehand, but I enjoyed the film.  Especially the intricate and artistic sets and scenery, and the beautiful choreography.

 

Whilst I was watching, a couple of things really stood out: at one point in the film, Anna asks her lover why he loves her.  He replies by saying,

"You can't ask 'Why?' about love."

 

You can't ask 'Why?' about love.

 

This is something I really struggle with.  Both with God's love and with the love of other people.  I forever think that I have to give God and others a reason to love me - I have to earn their love somehow. 

 

Dr. Henry Cloud writes,

"Our 'lovability' rests on the ability of the one doing the loving, not on our merit [..] None of us deserves love that comes our way; we don't earn love.  It is given to us.  Approval can be earned, but love can't."

 

Nowhere is this seen more powerfully than in Jesus' death for us: He showed His love by dying and giving up His life for us, even whilst we were still living in rebellion against Him:

"When we were utterly helpless, Christ came at just the right time and died for us sinners.  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."

 

[Romans 5:6-8 NLT] 

 

We don't deserve God's love.  We can do nothing to earn it.  But our 'lovability' doesn't depend on us, it depends on God.  And He is a God of love [1 John 4:16].

 

You can't ask 'Why?' about love.

 

He loves us because He loves us because He loves us.