Grace

Under the Mistletoe

bo.white — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 00:00:00 -0800

Ever caught yourself saying these words: “this holiday is going to be different,” OR “this year, we’ll really celebrate?” Then, after putting your best foot forward, you simply fell into what you always do. You respond partly out of nostalgia, partly out of tradition, but also partly out of fear.

It’s like every holiday is in some way, lived under the mistletoe. Instead of kissing someone with passion and with the energy that says, ‘I love this and I love you,’ you find yourself looking up to see if you’re really standing there and then you look over and see that someone else is also there and now what? Awkward….

Mary Oliver writes in her poem entitled “The Place I Want to Get Back To” these words:

“I go out to the dunes and look
and look and look
into the faces of the flowers;
and then one of them leaned forward

and nuzzled my hand, and what can my life
bring to me that could exceed
that brief moment?
For twenty years

I have gone every day to the same woods,
not waiting, exactly, just lingering.
Such gifts, bestowed,
can't be repeated.

If you want to talk about this
come to visit. I live in the house
near the corner, which I have named
Gratitude.”

She captures, I think, for me anyway, the holiday spirit that so eludes most people. She listens, she lingers, and in the end, there’s an invitation to prolong the visit. For some people, every holiday is the same old thing, year after year, and it’s not filled with awe nor is it inspiring or life-giving. It’s either there like the paint on the wall or it’s hanging over your head, like the mistletoe, but instead of capturing the moment, leaning forward, and surprising yourself and someone else, you simply stand still and wait for the flowers to walk in to your house and sit there and wait and wait for your next move.

Let me suggest that you get up and walk outside and lean forward in to the crisp winter air, taste the snow on your tongue, and linger a bit in front of the lights downtown or the manger scene or maybe you lie down in the snow, close your eyes, make an angel with your arms and legs and then stand up, turn around, and kneel in prayer until you see the angel come to life. Don’t move until you hear the angels sing and ignore everyone else who tells you that you’re just playing in the snow. If you want to talk about this, let’s meet in a house near yours, which is named Grace. And it’s the only house I have been in where I can dance without being made fun of and it’s the only house I have been in, where I didn’t care if someone heard me sing. And the gifts you receive in this house? They’ll blow your mind and the funny thing—they’re not wrapped up and under the tree, no, they seem to be out in the open and under the mistletoe. It’s kind of an odd house, but worth checking out.

-bo

"I" is for Inability

Derek Webster — Tue, 05 Jul 2011 10:05:20 -0700

Irresistible grace.

Calvinism:

In Calvinism, this doctrine means that if God is chasing you, you are powerless to resist Him. (A blunted definition, I know).

Again, in the effort to emphasize the Sovereignty of God, a question arises: If the grace of God is extended to someone, does that person have the capacity to resist it? If the person does, doesn’t that somehow diminish the Sovereignty of God?

This is about as useful as the old question of: “If God is all-powerful, can He make a rock He can’t lift?”

In other words, it’s of no use at all! “Is God powerful enough that if He extends His grace to certain men they are unable to resist it?” Of course He is. That’s actually a dumb question. It’s not a question of “if”, it’s a question of “does”. In 1 Tim. 2 it mentions that He wants all to know Him (but naturally all men don’t). DOES He gift humankind with the capacity to turn His love away? And if not, what does that say about love?

Arminianism

In Arminianism, this doctrine means that you are powerful to resist Him. This begs the question that most of us have experienced (and which Scripture passages also address): why, then, do I find that as I’ve pursued Him, I discovered He was, in fact, pursuing me? If you’re a follower of Christ, then you know what I’m writing about.

The Missional Perspective

Both have an inability to accept what they do not know. What if: in some cases God ardently forces and in others He gives the option? We tend not to accept that position because it seems rather arbitrary of God. But is it really?

We all have an inability to know for certain.

Here’s what we know: when God truly decides something will happen, it does. And it tends to happen in a surprising fashion that catches everyone – even theologians who think they’ve got God all figured out – off-guard.

We also KNOW that we chose Him. In your heart, you know you could have rejected Him. How many people (friends!) do you know who made a decision to follow Him at one point and then ran in the other direction later on in life? I know many. At the same time, I know that while I chose Him, He chose me. That sounds strange, I know. But it’s a bit like turning a corner you’ve never turned to find an old friend waiting for you. How did He get there?

There is something very ancient and very new about the world in which we live. The last thing we should do is try to explain that away. Instead, we should embrace it as paradox and truth. The best clues to God always happen at those points of paradox. They exist for a reason. There’s a reason why you can have the known world be explained away in human terms (evolution, humanism, philosophy, history, etc.) and still know – deep down – that there is Someone who is there and whom we’re missing in the process of living. It is why all of us are without excuse. It’s why there is hope in every conversation with a non-believer.

We all share a common inability to fully grasp Him.

A Time for Humility

Stan Jantz — Wed, 29 Jun 2011 07:54:13 -0700

"God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble."

If there’s one thing above all others at the root of the ills of the human race, especially in these changing times, it’s pride. Wise King Solomon penned what is undoubtedly the most well known verse on pride in the Bible, and it speaks volumes about the damage pride can do: “Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall” (Proverbs 16:18).

Look at that last word: fall. When we read this verse, we usually think of a setback or someone getting knocked off a pedestal because of pride. But the word has a much more cosmic meaning when you think about the fact that pride was at the root of Satan’s rebellion against God and his banishment from heaven. “I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High,” Satan declared (Isaiah 14:14).

Satan’s pride led to his downfall. Before God kicked him out of heaven, he was Lucifer, the chief angelic being. Evidently Satan didn’t learn his lesson, because he used the same tactic on Adam and Eve, telling them they would “be like God, knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:5). Once again, pride led to a fall that had cosmic implications. Adam and Eve’s fall was our fall; their pride is our pride. As James Montgomery Boice observes, “Nothing lies so much at the heart of the problems of the human race as this prideful desire to take over God’s place or, which amounts to the same thing, to pretend that we can do without him.”

This desire to do without God, to rely on earthly rather than heavenly wisdom, is at the root of our proud attitudes in this dazzling digital age. The world is literally at our fingertips. The acceleration of knowledge and the expansion of human achievement continue to reinforce our belief that we can know it all and do it all.

Even some churches and religious organizations have embraced a prideful attitude as they have built impressive buildings, elaborate campuses and sophisticated media empires. It may be for the sake of spreading the gospel, but ministers and their ministries are just as susceptible to pride as anyone else. And to what end? To tell people about Jesus? Maybe. But as pride creeps in, neither a minister nor a church is exempt from the fall that follows pride.

In these changing times, we’ve seen the cracks in these man-made structures and systems built by proud people. We’ve seen enormous financial institutions crumble to the ground. We’ve watched in horror as real estate prices have fallen as a result of greedy speculation. And we’ve witnessed once-thriving ministries struggle as their donations have dwindled. It’s easy to blame the economic downturn for all of these ills, but it’s possible there’s another force at work. James makes it clear that God opposes the proud. Could it be that God is behind these falls and failures? Well, He kicked Satan out of heaven and Adam and Eve out of Eden because of their pride. Why would he treat us any different?

The bad news for proud people is that God opposes them because they stand in opposition to Him. Proud, self-sufficient people have little interest in anything or anyone but themselves. When it comes to money, status and power, proud people live according to the wisdom of the world rather than God’s wisdom. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

Just as surely as God opposes the proud, He gives grace to the humble. Humility gets God’s attention, primarily because His Son, Jesus, came to earth as a humble servant rather than a conquering king in order to show us how to live. Not only does God delight in our humility before Him, but He also asks us to live in harmony and humility with one another, never too proud to associate with “people of low position” (Romans 12:16).

In fact, God offers to forgive us and heal us, both individually and corporately, if we simply humble ourselves before Him. And it starts with us, the people of God:

“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land” (2 Chronicles 7:14).

Excerpt from the forthcoming book, God Is In the Small Stuff for Changing Times (Barbour Publishing).

Dodgeball and Common Grace: A shot at long devotion

Adam Stadtmiller — Wed, 22 Jun 2011 14:59:08 -0700

I got a call from Lily’s kindergarten teacher asking if I would come in and volunteer at lunchtime as a playground dad. Someone else could not make it and they needed a replacement. It was early September and the year had just begun. I agreed and showed up the following Friday for duty.

Somehow, that one afternoon has turned into four years of Friday lunches, countless dodge ball games and amazing opportunities to let kids know they matter.

More then anything, it has been a chance to be available—available to my daughter, available to her friends. I never show up with an agenda and I don’t really consider it ministry. It is just life. It is my daughter’s life, and I get tobe a part of it in a way that matters to her.

About halfway through my first year of doing this, I prayed a prayer that meant as much to me as any prayer I have ever prayed, “God, I pray that you would allow me to see these kids graduate high school.” I was asking God if I could be a weekly campus presence until Lily’s final week of her senior year in 2020. It was a big prayer with big consequences. It was a commitment to stay put and not seek the next big opportunity.

At this point, I don’t know what it would take for me to break that commitment. Cancer maybe? It would most definitely not be for a better paying job or career advancement. I just don’t really care about all that. The cost is too high, those fourth graders too precious. I know them now, their struggles, their joys, their hopes.

There have been no miracles yet that I know of. No one has given his or her life to Christ as a result of me being there. Rather, it is just common grace in ordinary events and an opportunity at long devotion in a single direction. May God bless you in yours!

For more on Parental Discipleship check out : http://www.giveyourkidsthekeys.com/

Grace, Love & Murder?

Christian Buckley — Thu, 26 May 2011 10:52:54 -0700

Grace, Love & Murder?

May 20, 2011

Christian Buckley

Some questions, or rather problems, are too big for my head to get around. I try my hardest to work through and dissect them – but my mind just gives out. It is like when you ask an old computer to do too many things at the same time and it just locks up and stares at you with indignation. That’s what happens to me when I try to figure out something like how Grace, Love, and Murder - a specific murder – fit together. Brain lock.

A couple of preface notes to what follows are in order.

-- This is a horrible post and will unsettle you – I hope – assuming you have a soul.

-- I, unlike I would venture to say 99.9999% of you, have first hand deep experience in this topic. I go to death row in California every couple of months because I represent men there who have murdered people. That work takes me through dark places, lives, and realities I didn’t know existed and still wish I didn’t. That doesn’t make me special – it just gives you some background and probably gives me a different view of the topic.

-- I have no answers at all so you won’t find one at the end if you are looking.

The story.

A thirty-two year old girl, Emily, and her father, Russ, are murdered.

Emily is a wife of two years and the mother of a seven year old daughter and a three month old son. After years of fighting her first husband, Robert, Emily is finally given custody of her daughter by the court and takes her father Russ to get her from Robert’s home. The door opens and Robert, her ex-husband, begins firing. The daughter isn’t there because he sent her to get ice cream with his second wife and as Emily and Russ run back to the car Robert chases them, firing and reloading, until he finally kills them both – shooting them in the backs of their heads while they lie on the street. Emily’s three-month old is in the car waiting for his mom – hearing the gun shots. Emily’s seven year old special needs daughter is eating ice cream. There is a day care center across the street from the home and shots spray across the scene hitting anything and everything, but not another person. The police arrive and the madness draws to a close.

My connection.

As horrible as this may sound -- people, lots of people, are murdered every day all over the world and I don’t think a thing of it.

But when my wife came sobbing into my office early last week it was different. Emily Ford went to college with us, and while I didn’t know her, my wife did. Emily was Bridget’s “little sis” in their sorority – the girl you take under your wing and help become part of the family. She danced at our wedding and, thanks to Facebook, was in touch with my wife from time to time. So this murder was different.

I listened silently to the story through my wife’s tears and then began to try and make sense of it.

The Reality.

Lives were destroyed on the 3^rd of May. Nothing that will happen now, or ever, will bring Emily and Russ back. The lives of Emily’s mom, husband, and children have been forever devastated. The hundreds of friends and family connected to the children have been forever marked.

Robert’s second wife – her life was destroyed. And nothing will redeem Robert’s life. Robert will die in prison, as he should, one way or another. Robert’s parents, whoever they are, are now the parents of a murderer. His friends, or former friends, are the friends of a murderer.

Murder changes everything.

Homicide is killing someone. But murder, this kind of murder, is killing someone with planning, deliberation, and reflection. It’s not killing in rage or a drunken stupor. It’s not killing in a gang fight or a robbery gone bad. It’s killing with such soberness of mind and desire that you send your wife and daughter out for ice cream before you do it and reload your gun to make sure it is done. We have a death penalty, right or wrong, for this kind of murder. It is as bad as it gets.

The Problem.

While I stood in the back of the church last Friday during the funeral for Emily and Russ, I couldn’t help thinking about Robert sitting alone in a cell; probably knowing the funeral was taking place for the wife he once loved and her father.

The word murder was never mentioned at the funeral and the event wasn’t even hinted at, but it was there.

Standing there, the word “Broken” just kept running through my head over and over again. Everything was so broken. Not just because of the murder but because of what happened before it. Lives were broken for years before that. A short marriage ended in divorce and then a fight for a child. I can’t tell you why Robert did what he did, but in a perfect world he wouldn’t have. Our world is so broken that this happens. Things are not okay.

But the real problem in this story is figuring out how Grace and Love and Murder somehow exist together. How Evil of this magnitude can be reconciled with Good of God’s magnitude.

We all know that God so loved the world that he gave His son for Emily and Russ and Emily’s kids, and Emily’s husband, and Emily’s mom. I pray that God sends a special angel to love those kids in the ways that only God can and in time bring them redemption for their lives and eternity.

But we also know, as much as we might not like it – even hate it right now – that God so love the world that He gave His son for Robert as well. Robert had a chance and still has a chance to accept that love – to accept eternal redemption.

This is the truth.

Jesus died for the murdered and the murderer. Grace exists for the murdered and the murderer. We are commanded to love the murdered and the murderer. As Christ hung dying on the cross he looked down at the very men that nailed him to it – the men that literally murdered him – and asked God to forgive them. His body and heart were breaking at the same time.

For God - Grace and Love and Murder can and do fit together.

But not for me, at least not yet.

For more information on Emily Ford:

http://articles.latimes.com/2011/may/06/local/la-me-costa-mesa-murder-20110506

Solidarity in Opposites: A Lenten Contemplation

Kristin Ritzau — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 11:48:19 -0700

This past Thursday, Nate and I took the metro into downtown LA for the monthly art walk event. Dozens of business and stark empty halls transform into colorful displays as dusk approaches.

First, we found our way to the menagerie of food trucks nestled tightly together in vacant parking lots. Now full with colorful doors and windows shaping an eclectic food court, we were almost paralyzed by our options: pulled pork, creative wraps, dim sum, fusion tacos. It was a feast for the eyes, ears, and nose for sure.

After our bellies were content from the Lobster Truck and French Fried Chicken Truck, we meandered through the different art galleries. We pondered the meaning of someone taking old scraps and binding them together with glue and paint to make a wonderful art statement. We were also struck by the notion that in a city struggling to redefine itself, we were instantly handed maps to art walk despite the others walking by too. Did we stick out that much?

The sites, sounds, tastes, and feelings made for a night of sensory overload, but there was one picture whose impact has stuck with me.

Linda Alterwitz displayed her work where she took x-rays and laboratory images and fused/superimposed them on photographs of the environment and nature. There were algae that looks like small stars over a pictures of a seaside pier. A canine hip jutted out of the ocean, making it look like angels were descending from the clouds. As people moved dutifully from picture to picture, my eye kept wandering back to one of her pieces.

At a glance it looked like an old photo gone wrong, something to disregard, but if you lingered, something else emerged. It was black and white, simple enough to miss, but wrought with profundity. Its fuzziness either captured someone's interest or sent them on their way (and I can't help but think the same it true when we're dealing with people too).

I could make out a beach fairly easily, but that was only the first wave of recognition. The waves encroached on left side of the image, washing ashore on the gray sand. Just a few feet in from the water was the outline of a person with two legs under a black over coat. It looked as if they were walking away from the camera. Alone. The picture didn't seem moody though- more thoughtful than anything. And I kept looking at this person walking on the beach.

In the lower right corner was a sonar image with some lines and another fuzzy image. Had I not looked at the description, I would have missed it. It was an ultrasounds of a human uterus - a womb. And the person walking on the beach was in the womb. Though the harsh waves approached, they were safe, protected, thought of. There was a sense of tentative peace amongst the fuzziness that could be misunderstood.

I couldn't pry my eyes away even as my husband beckoned me, "Look at this one! It's a dog elbow." Later, I went to the artist's website and discovered her passion is combining both sides of the brain - logical and creative. She juxtaposes images from medicine and science with nature, the environment and play. Her biography page explains, "It is this dichotomy that gives her work a comforting sense of familiarity while simultaneously creating tension."

That - in a 17 word count - is my life. A crossroads of creating home, but not becoming too comfortable to not be challenged in it. Of living to work, not working to live. In the Fall, our pastor said, "We have a tendency to separate that which is useful and that which is beautiful." And to me Alterwitz's images seek to fuse them together like a cast. The repair/reconciliation will be sure to not make it "go back to the way it was." Rather, it's not supposed to be the same as we carry the memories and scars and move into the next season. We are marked by life's images and the greatest beauty is sharing them so we can still see their use among the mess of the story of life.

That is why we must see the images from Japan, Egypt, Libya, Wisconsin, but also listen. There is an urgency to collect stories, instead of befriending people who are in these situations or who have family and friends in these locations. To walk with them and not make assumptions will assure that we are there long after the headlines are gone. It's a matter of moving on in remembrance instead of forgetting; of fusing our lives to other lives even if it doesn't make sense.

It is also why I was rather upset when John Piper recently dismissed Rob Bell over the controversy of his new book. With one twitter message (a tweet) - "Farewell Rob Bell," Piper wiped a relationship away. We cannot just dismiss people. We cannot let leaders dictate who we should or should not care about when we are supposed to love everyone. Love. Everyone. It takes a real leader who can declare that they can do that... I am not there.

I am so exhausted from national conversations whose goal is to only seek further polarization. Thus I couldn't help but be drawn in by an image that seeks to bring two opposites together. However, they're not even opposites -- they just haven't been brought together before, so why not now? There is such beauty in understanding, in the in-between where things collide.

I think that is where the Sacred dwells - where earthquakes, water, nuclear reactors, oil spills and war meet humanity. Suddenly the only remedy is an eye looking for grace.

So in this Lenten season, I am seeking solidarity. I'm not trying to diet or "Give up chocolate for God." I'm wanting to find moments of Divine Presence. Places where left and right, science and nature, beauty and mess all meet so that we can stop looking at each other in disagreement and look forward toward a grace-filled Easter morning.

(Linda Alterwitz website) Click here to see her work. They will be the images for the blog this week.

Nick Watney's improvement and ours

Jeff Hopper — Mon, 14 Mar 2011 10:23:51 -0700

The devotion I have written for Tuesday's Links Daily Devotional speaks to issues of grace and spiritual growth. It may be helpful here in light of recent discussion:

We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives,so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience… (Colossians 1:9-11, NIV)

Johnny Miller couldn’t get over it. He kept returning to the statistic about Nick Watney’s short game.

Last year Watney, who won the WGC-Cadillac Championship on Sunday against the world’s best players, was 146^th on Tour in scrambling, the ability to get up and down from off the green to save par. After Sunday, Watney is—and this truly is amazing—second.

That’s right. Watney’s short game has improved so much that he has gone from one of the worst regulars on tour to nearly the best. I’m with Miller. This is both impressive by itself and indicative of why Watney walked away with the trophy on Sunday.

But here’s my question in light of so much of what I read on discussion boards and blogs these days: why is it that we can be so enamored with improvement in the athletic world and so resistant to it in one’s spiritual life?

So many places these days I read that grace is enough. And it is. Enough for our forgiveness, enough for our salvation, enough for our blessing. Grace is enough.

And yet, there is room for improvement in our walk with Jesus. Grace was never meant to give us a day off in the kingdom.

Understand, this is not self-improvement I am speaking of. This is improvement assigned and empowered by God.

Improvement by assignment. Look: when a coach wants his players to improve, he assigns them various drills and sets them to practice. The players do not resist this, saying, “You’re the coach. You are far above us and know so much more. Why should we even try?” What an absurd response that would be! Rather, they take on the instruction and discipline the coach assigns—for the sake of improvement. Obedience is not a rejection of grace, it is an acceptance of it. It says to God, “Thank You for making the way clear for me so that I don’t have to stumble through a life of trial and error. When I follow Your ways, I can count on the best life possible.”

Improvement by empowerment. And yet our work for Jesus is not a work we dare perform alone in our smarts and our strength. We consult with Him, plead with Him, trust Him, follow Him. We do this with confidence knowing precisely that His grace will pick us up when we fall. We do this “fill[ed]…with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives.”

Grace is first. It is what puts us on Christ’s “team.” Now we are set to play—and to strive to get better in the playing!

Basketball, honor codes, and grace

Jeff Hopper — Sun, 06 Mar 2011 17:18:54 -0800

Brandon Davies. Rob Bell. When it comes to hot bulletin board topics this week, you probably have to take your pick.

I’ll let you read for yourself all the Rob (Hell) Bell stuff. In this space, I’ll be sticking to Davies. And premarital sex. And LDS morality. And, hopefully, Scripture.

In the afterglow of BYU’s second win of the season over Mountain West basketball rival San Diego State, all should have been well in Cougarland. The blue-and-white appeared poised for a possible No. 1 seed come next Sunday’s NCAA tournament selection time.

Then the fan started spinning and the result was not pretty.

Davies, you likely know by now, had violated the university’s honor code, having had sex with his girlfriend sometime last fall. The university didn’t actually come forth with this information. It leaked. So while some were quick to want to forgive Davies over a “common college activity,” for all we know this was no singular incident. University officials may have already “rendered grace.”

And that’s where I want to head for a bit here, because while I am willing to give ground to those who do not hold to biblical morality and are asking what the big deal is, I wonder sometimes just what has happened to what we might call Christian common sense, that which should make us wise both in the world and in Scripture.

For instance, why do some people miss the fact that big-college athletes, in addition to normally having a large chunk of their education paid for, represent the university more visibly than almost anyone on campus? I can tell you that I have certainly heard of Davies and potential college player of the year Jimmer Fredette—a teammate of Davies. I wouldn’t have a clue who the president of BYU is. So if a college wants to ask its most visible reps to adhere to certain contracts over their conduct—especially contracts that all students are supposed to adhere to—this seems like no greater request than those made by employers everyday. Student athletes are like employees: they sign up for these expectations. Don’t like what one school or corporation demands? Go elsewhere. That’s simple earthly common sense.

But let’s consider this more deeply, from a biblical standpoint, because somewhere along the way, too many Christians have fallen in love with an unmitigated grace. They seem ready to instantly and easily forgive virtually every sin on a moment’s notice. Some felt BYU was out of bounds for this very reason; they were said to be graceless in the Davies situation. But I am not sure the application of grace applies in the Davies case, and here are three biblical looks at why:

1. What do you call a Nazirite who cuts his hair, drinks wine, and touches a dead person? Here’s a hint: You wouldn’t call him a Nazirite. It is in Numbers 6 that we read of this special class of Hebrew. Above and beyond the common law, a Nazirite voluntarily took a vow to follow God with an extra measure of self-discipline. While we would not say that the breaking of this vow was a sin of any great consequence, the breaking of the vow—even an accidental encounter with a dead body—necessitated a period of cleansing and restoration. The point? Sometimes, God’s people take upon themselves a discipline “above and beyond,” not for their own honor but for the honor of God.

2. You find the same principle in 1 Corinthians 7:5, where Paul wrote this to married couples about their sex lives: “Do not deprive each other except by mutual consent and for a time, so that you may devote yourselves to prayer”—people honoring God with an extra measure of self-discipline. Who is dis-graced when the vow is broken? I certainly would not be bothered. How about God? Many people are not bothered by Davies’ action, even suggesting that no punishment should be given, because this is akin to the casting of stones by those who have likewise sinned themselves. But again, this was an agreement of Davies’ own doing. He signed the contract; he broke the contract; his school was dis-graced—not only in the unchastity but also in the lie that signed an agreement not kept.

3. And herein lies the clincher: If you want to make the argument that God’s grace is enduring through your continuing and intentional sins, you’ll find yourself arguing with Scripture itself. Grace, the Bible teaches, is a remedy for the sin of our old lives; it is never a license for sin in our new life. “Shall we go on sinning that grace may abound? By no means!” Paul wrote to the Romans. And to the Corinthians, “You are not your own; you were bought with a price.”

I will give grace quickly to any sinner who turns to Jesus. By His grace, the old is gone. This is the grace that was given to me. It is the grace that forgave me and it is the grace the keeps forgiving me. But if I (a) harbor a sin-habit and presume on that grace, or (b) set out with sin-intent to disregard that grace, what I show is that I have no intention of honoring God. I dis-grace Him. I should not then be surprised if His grace is staunched as it was in the days of Jeremiah (read Jeremiah 44)—not because He does not want to give it, but because we have no intention of honoring it.

Believe me, I will not rush to judgment. Not only is that God’s work, I wouldn’t have the least idea as to the details of Brandon Davies’ life. But I also will not fall into the modern trap of dispensing God’s grace where it is only going to be trampled upon. This would be casting pearls before swine. Remember, it was right after saying that we should not judge others that Jesus approved the kind of discerning judgment that holds back the treasures of the kingdom from those who have no honorable interest in them. I pray this is not the case for Davies, but I am afraid it is increasingly the case for others whose God-disgracing actions are being too readily dismissed.

Two Porches and the Moon's Special Honey

Abbie Smith — Fri, 19 Nov 2010 09:24:39 -0800

For a while I wondered why Jesus went to the cross. Seemed a little extreme. I was a decent person, relatively speaking, and quite liked the idea of being judged based on my rule following. A gifted Pharisee seems to have no fear of morality. What she fears, rather, are things like love and forgiveness and living by faith alone.

Someday maybe I’ll write a book about the characters that line our street. Today I’ll simply mention two, and how they’ve been gnawing away at my Pharisee-prone compulsions.

We live in a transitional community, so it’s constantly lending lessons and paradigm-shifts to concepts like “family,” “wealth,” or “the Gospel.” A neighbor and close friend of ours, whose name I’ll leave concealed, knocked yesterday at 8am. As far as we knew, he’d been sober since February, aside from an alcohol binge last month, which stuck him in jail for seven days. Micah has been friends with this fella for years, gleaning from his carpentry skills, among other talents.

I remember the first time we had him to dinner, and how oddly glamorous—sickeningly virtuous, even—was the sensation of having an ex-convict in my home. The glamour wore-off quickly, however, as meal upon meal, plus prayers and rides and encouragements and lendings of petty cash added up to what seemed like nothing. Addictive patterns remained and this neighbor’s growth seemed neutral, at best. But most days my capacities of hope and serving this troubled neighbor remained. He didn’t put me out any and sometimes would even bring over a home-cooked meal, or lend a hand around our house.

But yesterday hit a roadblock.

Our friend had been on a three-day binge—in a matter of minutes, smearing his latest record with drugs, alcohol, stealing and shacking-up with at least one prostitute.

He arrived at our door shaking and ashamed. His car had been stolen, his cell-phone dead and his pockets empty. What had been a delightful and tidy Thursday morning quickly went sour.

What did forgiveness mean as we stood on the porch? What did it mean to love this neighbor of ours, granting him stains of the Gospel and Cross, by which we had been touched time and again?

Punishment told us to close the door and go our own way.

But Forgivness said, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven,” for you, too, are forgiven at such lengths.

I lent our neighbor my car and phone for the “hour” it would take to unclutter some of the mess he’d made. He returned in closer to eight, petitioning for food and another ride. What an inconvenience to my day—what an annoyance to my expectations of November 18^th—what a lesson toward understanding forgiveness. Apparently giving, and forgiving are a lot easier when they don’t require anything. But apparently ease, along with glamour, tidiness, or convenience, are not ways to true forgiveness, at least if we’re going the Jesus way.

Neighbor #2 as my latest teacher is Marcus. Marcus is seven and lives about a stone’s throw away, in the house diagonal from ours. He’s one of five children, each from a different dad and raised by the care of a drug-addicted mom.

Upon returning from our honeymoon, one of the first things we did was visit Marcus and his sister, America. He was playing on his porch and welcomed us with a tender grin (minus two teeth that, “the tooth fairy’d stole without asking when we went away”).

“Guess what, Marcus? The wedding countdown for Mr. Micah and me is done. We got married and went on our honeymoon, and now I get to be your full-time neighbor!”

“Gettin’ married means you go all the way to the moon to eat special honey?”

“No sweetie,” I said with a smile. “A honeymoon is a vacation after a wedding. And getting married means…well…that I get to live with my best friend and learn about things like love and forgiveness and living by faith alone.”

“Oh. Do you wanna see the fort I made while you went away?”

“I’d love to, dear.”

Sister From Another Mother

Renee Johnson — Sat, 18 Sep 2010 19:49:46 -0700

It’s a running joke between my brother and I who’s adopted. Whenever we introduce each other at church (North Coast) and they know Richard or myself, eventually we’re asked…uh…are you sure you’re…related?

“He’s adopted.” I say.

“She’s adopted.” Richard says.

No! Kidding. But, seriously…was I?

For all intensive purposes my brother is perfect. Athletic. Tall. Tan. Good looking. Never. Had. A. Health. Problem.

Growing up, I missed out on everything, and he was involved in everything. It was tough not to hate him or envy him—or both.

[Insert many years here.]

Last year I quit my job and it took me a year to get over it. Why? Because I think I got lost and tried to cover it up. I’m…perfe….wait.

Grace defined

I am the prodigal daughter. More like the envious one of the brother who got all the attention. Not to say that my brother is a bad person…because he’s not, but why is it most people and pastors don’t define grace by the prodigal son’s brother? They use it all [GRACE] up on the prodigal son himself.

Well what about the wallflower that used to be me?

I fought hard against that stereotype. To overcome bouts of health issues including eczema and anxiety. To read my story, Renee of the Fourth Chance read here.

Once I… finally…succeeded….and got the attention I thought I deserved, I fell away from His graceland and ended up in…well…legalismland.

You-know-the-kind-that-judges-everything-based-on-performance-how-good-you-are-how-much-money-you-bring-home-your-status-friends-image-you-name-it!

Yuck! Just thinking about it makes me want to crawl back into comfort of lega…

NO! I can’t. What's WRONG WITH ME?????

Well I did.

I had concealed my legalismland as ministry. Or business as ministry. And I was successful at it. Until God told me to give it all up and serve the 20/30-somethings. And I realized I couldn’t!!!

That’s the moment (now a year later I realized) when I became the prodigal son’s sister. Who am I to tell God He can’t give or take grace away as He sees fit? And who am I to forget how to bend my knees (do they bend that way still) and ask for forgiveness (when I didn’t think I needed to or deserved it)? Ouch.

Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!

I got all that from hearing one pastor (Tony Wood) share his heart today for his new church (Moment Church) launching in three weeks (10.10.10).

In one moment my life was changed.

Want to inherit the kingdom of heaven? Learn how to be a beggar.

If I remember correctly God is the kinsman redeemer for dirty beggars like you and me.