Grace! I Want Grace!

“From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another.”  John 1:16

 

Last Saturday my family babysat two little girls.  Our charges--one and a half and two and a half years old, respectively, arrived with diapers, jammies, and a music DVD.  It is no exaggeration to say that from the minute they walked in until thirty seconds before they walked out, the disc played non-stop. The second tune was the praise song, “This Is Amazing Grace,” and the key word in the title became the anthem of the youngest.  

“Grace!  I want grace!” she sweetly, strongly, and excitedly proclaimed.  The moment the last song would end, her mantra would begin.  “Grace!  I want grace!”  Since she’s still learning to talk, the words “I want” often came out garbled, but her demand for “grace” was always clear.  When (the first three times around) I failed to immediately push the repeat button on the DVD remote, she dissolved into tears as she stared at the blank screen sorrowfully proclaiming, “Grace.  I want grace.”  And when the familiar sights and sounds began again, cheers replaced her tears as she joyfully announced, “Grace!! Grace!!”

About the fifth time through, during that two second interlude of silence between songs, I clicked over to check on the USA Figure Skating Championships. I thought that since movement and music would still be showing, we might get away with it, but the child was not fooled.  Immediately she recognized the imposter and began her imploring wail--“Grace!  I want grace!  Grace!  I want grace!”

The skating costumes were flashier than the outfits worn by the kids on the DVD, the motions more graceful, and the music more dramatic, but since the clever toddler knew what authentic “grace” looked and sounded like, no cheap imitation—no matter how extravagant or appealing—would do.  

We can all learn a lesson from the little one.  From the time we were babes in our faith, we’ve been repeatedly saturated in grace.  As the slave-trader turned song-writer John Newton penned, “Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved.  How precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed.” Actually, that amazing grace appeared way before our belief.  It showed up when Christ came down to give His life for ours, and it was working in our hearts even before we were His.  God’s grace not only saves us, but over and over and over, day after day after day, God’s grace sustains us, strengthens us, and straightens us up.  His grace fills us with joy, peace, contentment, and purpose, and His grace binds us to Him now and forever. “Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.”

Sometimes we fail to recognize the beauty of such blessing.  At other moments the enemy catches us in a lull and diverts our attention to something that appears more flashy and dramatic, but we should not be fooled.  Style is not substance, and our desperate hearts need the real deal—no cheap imitation will do.  May we quickly recognize any imposter and begin the imploring wail of “Grace!  I want grace!”  

There is no stronger or sweeter word for it flows from the holy heart of a perfect Father whose willingness to endure the worst allowed Him to give us His best—His grace.  From now to forever, through the tears, the cheers, the victories, the failures, the marvelous, or the mundane, our mantra should stay the same. “Grace!  I want grace!”

Nothing else will ever do.

Looking For Loopholes

“He wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?’” Luke 10:29

When it comes to commitments and contracts, it seems that as soon as we sign, we start looking for loopholes.  Humans have been trying to untangle themselves from obligations since the start (think garden, fruit, snake, etc.), but sometimes the more diligently we try to get out, the deeper we get in.

Such was the story for a lawyer who tested Jesus—and failed.  The man, an expert in Jewish theology, asked Jesus the requirements for eternal life, but instead of answering with a statement, Jesus responded with a question.  “‘What is written in the Law?’ he replied.  ‘How do you read it?’”(Lk 10:26).  With no hesitation, the lawyer rattled off the two greatest commandments:  “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength,” and “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  Since doing of all these things all of the time would equal perfection, Jesus replied, “Do this and you will live”(Lk 10:28).

This comeback unsettled the expert because the demand was so broad.  To love God with everything made sense, but an expectation to love all others seemed absurd, so he started looking for a loophole.  “He wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?’”(Lk 10:29). 

In answer Jesus told the parable we call “The Good Samaritan”—the tale of a victimized traveler, desperate and dying, who was ignored by a prideful priest and a reluctant rabbi before being finally rescued by a passerby with a soft heart and an open hand. The hero was a man the lawyer loathed—a Samaritan, a part-breed Jew whom proper Israelites despised and disdained, but such was exactly the point.  Mercy and compassion know no boundaries.  Ethnicity, economics, preferences, partialities, or even our own plans and priorities should never keep us from being kind and caring.  Ever. The expectation to love all others is large, but so is our God.

Who is your neighbor?  The one in need.

Love has no loopholes.

Intentionally

“The second is this:  ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” Mark 12:31

Sometimes the best place to begin is where you left off.  

We do it when reading books and reconnecting with friends, so I thought I would try it with writing devotions.  For two months I’ve struggled to consistently turn thoughts into words, but while the freshness of the New Year lingers (yes, my Christmas tree is still up and December’s calendar hasn’t come down), I hereby resolve to read and reflect more, so I’ll start where I left off—in the middle of the two greatest commandments.  

A religious leader had asked Jesus which was the most important of all God’s instructions, but instead of merely replying to his single request, Jesus did what grace so often does—gives us more than we ask for.  The lawyer’s curiosity only covered the greatest commandant, but Jesus followed up the supreme directive—to love God completely—with the second—to love others intentionally.  “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this:  ‘Love your neighbor as yourself’”(Mk 12:30-31).

The two commandments cannot be separated, for if the first is obeyed, the second will occur.  Our God is a reaching out, relational God, and our passion for Him causes us to care about others.  How we are to do this sort of caring is set straight in the second commandment—“Love your neighbor as yourself.”

What those few but profound words truly mean has been pondered more than a little in my mind over many years, and it wasn’t until tonight that my understanding of the commandment finally seemed a bit more complete as I typed the word “intentionally” two paragraphs ago.  As Christians, we are taught to “die to self” and to be “unselfish,” so the idea of how we love ourselves being the model for how we treat others has always seemed somewhat contradictory and confusing.  But it doesn’t need to be.

At its core, love is more about action than emotion, so instead of pondering our self-passion, let’s consider our self-preservation.  Another way to put it is—how do we take care of ourselves?   The answer is—on purpose.  We intentionally eat when we’re hungry, rest when we’re weary, and wash when we’re dirty.  We intentionally minimize fear and maximize comfort.  We avoid what causes pain and embrace what produces pleasure—on purpose.  We do everything we can to create outcomes in our lives that bring us good and not bad, and we do it all deliberately.  

If you’re thinking, “Well, sometimes I might do that, but often I choose to be weary or uncomfortable or go without a want or wish so that the delight of others will increase and their distress decrease,” then you get God’s point exactly.  You are loving or taking care of others the way you would take care of yourself if you were the only one around.  You are setting aside your own safety, security, sleep, savings, etc. for the benefit of someone else.  You are actively involved for the good of another—on purpose.  Intentionally.  In other words, you are “loving your neighbor as yourself.”

After working through this in my mind and heart, the concept is less confusing but more challenging because instead of trying to conjure up feelings for others, I know I am called to take care of them intentionally and sacrificially.  I am commanded to live up to what the apostle John wrote down, “Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth”(1 Jn 3:18), and I am to do so deliberately.

Love your God. Love your neighbor. And do them both on purpose.

The better we know the One who cares for us, the better we can take care of others.