Grace-Works

Grace-Works Audio/Visual

Grace-Works

So what do we do? Keep on sinning so God can keep on forgiving? I should hope not! If we’ve left the country where sin is sovereign, how can we still live in our old house there? Or didn’t you realize we packed up and left there for good? That is what happened in baptism. When we went under the water, we left the old country of sin behind; when we came up out of the water, we entered into the new country of grace — a new life in a new land! (Romans 6:1-3)

Exactly what does a grace-driven Christian look like? In Romans 6 Paul asks a crucial question: "How can we who died to sin still live in it?" (v. 2 RSV) How can we who have been made right not live righteous lives? How can we who have been loved not love? How can we who have been blessed not bless? How can we who have been given grace not live graciously? Paul seems stunned that an alternative would even exist. How could grace result in anything but gracious living? "So what do we do? Keep on sinning so God can keep on forgiving?” (v. 1)

The two-dollar term for this philosophy is antinomianism: anti meaning "against," and nomos meaning "moral law." Promoters of the idea see grace as a reason to do bad rather than a reason to do good. Grace grants them a license to sin. The worse I act the better God seems. And this isn't Paul's first reference to the teaching. In Romans 3:7, Paul writes, "A person might say, 'When I lie, it really gives him the glory, because my lie shows God's truth.'" What a scam. You mothers wouldn't tolerate it. Can you imagine your teenager saying, "Mom, I'll keep my room messy so the whole neighborhood can see what a great housekeeper you are"? A boss wouldn't let the employee say, "The reason I'm so lazy is to give you an opportunity to display your forgiveness." No one respects the beggar who refuses to work, saying, "I'm just giving the government an opportunity to demonstrate its benevolence." Sound familiar in this election season? We wouldn't tolerate it, and we wouldn't do it. Would we?

Maybe we don't sin so God can give grace, but do we ever sin knowing God will give grace? Do we ever compromise tonight, knowing we'll confess tomorrow? It's easy to be like the guy visiting Las Vegas who called the preacher, wanting to know the hours for Sunday services. The preacher was impressed. "Most people who come to Las Vegas don’t think much about church." "Oh, I'm not coming to go to church. I'm coming for the gambling and parties and wild women. And if I have half as much fun as I intend, I'll need a church come Sunday morning." Is that the intent of grace? Is God's goal to promote disobedience? Hardly. "Grace . . . teaches us not to live against God nor to do the evil things the world wants to do. Instead, grace teaches us to live now in a wise and right way and in a way that shows we serve God." (Titus 2:11-12) God's grace has released us from selfishness. So, why return?

Think of it this way. Sin put you in prison. Sin locked you behind the bars of guilt and shame and deception and fear. Sin did nothing but shackle you to a wall of misery. Then Jesus came and paid your bail. He served your time; he satisfied the penalty and set you free. Christ died, and when you cast your lot with him, your old self died, too. The only way to be set free from the prison of sin is to serve its penalty. In this case, the penalty is death. Someone has to die, either you or a heaven-sent substitute. You cannot leave prison unless there’s a death. But that death occurred at Calvary. And when Jesus died, you died to sin's claim on your life. You’re free.

Near the city of Sao Jose dos Campos, Brazil is a remarkable facility. Twenty years ago the Brazilian government turned a prison over to two Christians. The institution was renamed Humaita, and the plan was to run it on Christian principles. With the exception of two fulltime staff, all the work is done by inmates. Families outside the prison adopt an inmate with whom to work during and after his term. Chuck Colson visited the prison and made this report:

When I visited Humaita I found the inmates smiling – particularly the murderer who held the keys, opened the gates and let me in. . . . My guide escorted me to the notorious prison cell once used for torture. Today, he told me, that block houses only a single inmate. As we reached the end of a long concrete corridor and he put the key in the lock, he paused and asked, "Are you sure you want to go in?" "Of course," I replied impatiently, "I've been in isolation cells all over the world." Slowly he swung open the massive door, and I saw the prisoner in that punishment cell: a crucifix, beautifully carved by the Humaita inmates – the prisoner Jesus, hanging on a cross. "He's doing time for the rest of us," my guide said softly.

Christ has taken your place. There’s no need for you to remain in the cell. Ever heard of a released prisoner who wanted to stay? Me either. When the doors open, prisoners leave. The thought of a person preferring jail over freedom doesn't compute. Once the penalty is paid, why live under bondage? And you have been discharged from the penitentiary of sin. Why, in heaven's name, would you ever want to set foot in that prison again? Paul reminds us: "Our old life died with Christ on the cross so that our sinful selves would have no power over us and we would not be slaves to sin. Anyone who has died is made free from sin's control." (Rom. 6:6-7) He’s not saying that it’s impossible for believers to sin; he's saying it’s stupid for believers to sin. Because what does the prison have that you desire? Do you miss the guilt? Are you homesick for dishonesty? Do you have fond memories of being lied to and forgotten? Was life better when you were dejected and rejected? Do you have a longing to once again see a sinner in the mirror? It doesn’t make any sense to go back to prison.

But not only has a price been paid, a vow has been made. "Did you forget that all of us became part of Christ when we were baptized?" (Rom. 6:3) Baptism was no casual custom, no ho-hum ritual. Baptism was, and is, "a pledge made to God from a good conscience." (1 Pet. 3:21) Paul's high regard for baptism is demonstrated in the fact that he knew all of his readers had been instructed in its importance. "You have been taught that when we were baptized into Christ we were baptized into his death." (Rom. 6:2) So, what kind of amnesia is this? Like a bride horrified to see her new husband flirting with women at the wedding reception, Paul asks, "Did you forget your vows?" (Rom. 6:3)

Baptism is a vow, a sacred vow of the believer to follow Christ. Just as a wedding celebrates the fusion of two hearts, baptism celebrates the union of sinner with Savior. We "became part of Christ when we were baptized." (v. 3) Do the bride and groom understand all of the implications of their marriage? No. Do they know every challenge or threat they’ll face? No. But they know that they love each other and vow to be faithful to the end. When a willing heart enters the waters of baptism, does he know the implications of the vow? No. Does she know every temptation or challenge? No. But both know the love of God and are responding to him.

To return to sin after sealing our souls in baptism is like committing adultery on your honeymoon. Can you imagine the distraught bride discovering her husband in the arms of another woman only days after hearing his vow at the altar? Among her many sizzling words (and that’s putting it nicely) would likely be the question, "Have you forgotten what you said to me?" Similarly God asks, "Does our union mean nothing to you? Is our covenant so fragile that you would choose the arms of a harlot over mine?" Who, in their right mind, would want to abandon those vows? Who will care for you more than Jesus? Have we forgotten what life was like before our baptism? Have we forgotten the mess we were in before we were united with him? I choose the word mess intentionally. Let me share mine.

Do you know the mess that I'm glad I’m finally out of? My college dorm. Of all the names I've been called, no one has ever accused me of being a neat-freak. Some people have a high threshold of pain; I have a high threshold of sloppiness. Not that my mom didn't try. And not that she didn't succeed. As long as I was under her roof, I stacked my plate and picked up my shorts. But once I was free, I was free indeed. Most of my life I've been a closet slob. I was slow to see the logic of neatness. Why make up a bed if you’re going to sleep in it again tonight? Does it make sense to wash dishes after only one meal? Isn't it easier to leave your clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed so they'll be there when you get up and put them back on the next morning? Is anything really gained by putting the lid on the toothpaste tube tonight only to remove it again tomorrow? I was as compulsive as anyone, only I was compulsive about being messy. Life was too short to match your socks; just buy longer pants. But then I got married and became a new man. I’d been exposed to my wife’s higher standards.

Isn't that what’s happened with us? Isn't that the heart of Paul's argument? How could we who have been freed from sin return to it? Before Christ our lives were out of control, sloppy and indulgent. We didn't even know we were slobs until we met him. Then he moved in. Things began to change. What we threw around we began putting away. What we neglected we cleaned up. What had been clutter became order. Oh, there were (and still are) occasional lapses of thought and deed, but by and large he got our house in order. Suddenly we find ourselves wanting to do good. Go back to the old mess? Are you kidding? "In the past you were slaves to sin – sin controlled you. But thank God, you fully obeyed the things that you were taught. You were made free from sin, and now you are slaves to goodness." (Rom. 6:17-18)

Can a discharged prisoner return to confinement? Yes. But let him remember the gray walls and long nights. Can a newlywed forget his vows? Yes. But let him remember his holy vow and his beautiful bride. Can a converted slob once again be messy? Yes. But let him consider the difference between the filth of yesterday and the purity of today. Can one who has been given a free gift not share that gift with others? I suppose. But let him remember that the gift was given freely. Let him remember that all of life is a gift of grace. And let him remember that the call of grace is to live a gracious life. That’s how grace works.

Grace,

Randy

Called-Up

Called-Up

Therefore, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us. Because of our faith, Christ has brought us into this place of undeserved privilege where we now stand, and we confidently and joyfully look forward to sharing God’s glory. We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. (Rom. 5:1-3)

Batters hustling to the plate to take their swings. Questionable calls going uncontested. Umpires being thanked after the game. Fans returning foul balls. Is this Major League Baseball? Well, it was. For a few weeks during the spring of '95, professional baseball was an entirely different game. The million-dollar arms were at home. The Cadillac bats were in the rack. The contracted players were negotiating for more money. And not to be deterred by the contractual impasse, the owners decided to throw the gates open to almost anyone who knew how to field a grounder, or run out a bunt. These weren't minor-leaguers. The minor leagues were on strike, too. These were guys who went from coaching Little League one week to wearing a Padres uniform the next.

The games weren't fancy, mind you. Line drives rarely reached the outfield. One manager said his pitchers threw the ball so slowly that the radar gun couldn't clock them. A fan could shell a dozen peanuts in the time it took to relay a throw from the outfield. The players huffed and puffed more than The Little Engine That Could. But the players had fun. The diamond was studded with guys who played the game for the love of the game. When the coach said run, they ran. When he needed a volunteer to shag fly balls, a dozen hands went up. They arrived before the park opened, greasing their gloves and cleaning their cleats. And when it was time to go home, they stayed until the grounds crew ran them off.

They thanked the attendants for washing their uniforms. They thanked the caterers for the food. They thanked the fans for paying the dollar to watch. The line of players willing to sign autographs was longer than the line of fans wanting them in the first place. These guys didn't see themselves as a blessing to baseball, but baseball as a blessing to them. They didn't expect luxury; they were surprised by it. They didn't demand more playing time; they were thrilled just to play at all. It was baseball again. In Cincinnati, the general manager stepped out onto the field and applauded the fans for coming out. The Phillies gave away free hot dogs and sodas. And in the trade of the year, the Cleveland Indians gave five players to the Cincinnati Reds – for free!

It wasn't classy. Fans missed the three-run homers, and frozen-rope pick-offs. But that was forgiven for the pure joy of seeing some guys play who really enjoyed the game. And what made them so special was that they were living a life they didn't deserve. These guys didn't make it to the big leagues because of their skill; they made it because of a lock-out. They weren't picked because they were good; they were picked because they were willing. And they knew it. Not one time did you read an article about the replacement players arguing over poor pay. There was no jockeying for position. No second-guessing the management. No strikes. No walkouts. These guys didn't even complain that their names weren't stitched on the back of their jerseys. They were just happy to be on the team. Shouldn't we be, too?

Aren't we a lot like these players? If the first four chapters of Romans tell us anything, it tells us we’re living a life we don't deserve. We aren't good enough to get picked. But look at us? Suited up and ready to play. We aren't skillful enough to make the community softball league, but our names are on the greatest roster in history. Do we deserve to be here? No. But would we trade the privilege? Not for the world. Because if Paul's proclamation is true, God's grace has placed us on a dream team beyond our imagination. Our past is pardoned, and our future is secure. And lest we forget about this unspeakable gift, Paul itemizes the blessings that God's grace brings into our world. "Since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God." (v. 1)

Peace with God. What a happy consequence of faith. Not just peace between countries, or peace between neighbors, or peace at home; salvation brings peace with God. I heard a story where a monk and his apprentice were traveling from the abbey to a nearby village. The two parted company at the city gates and agreed to meet the next morning after completing their tasks. According to plan, they met and began the long walk back to the abbey. The monk noticed that the younger man was unusually quiet. So, he asked him if anything was wrong. "What’s it to you?" came the terse response. Now the monk was sure his brother was troubled, but he decided to say nothing. But soon, the distance between the two began to increase – the apprentice walked slowly, as if to separate himself from his teacher.

Finally, when the abbey was in sight, the monk stopped at the gate and waited on the student. "Tell me, my son. What troubles your soul?" The boy started to react again, but when he saw the warmth in his master's eyes, his heart began to melt. "I have sinned greatly," he sobbed. "Last night I slept with a woman and abandoned my vows. I’m not worthy to enter the abbey at your side." The teacher put his arm around the student and said, "We’ll enter the abbey together. And we’ll enter the cathedral together. And together we’ll confess your sin. No one but God will know which of the two of us fell."

Doesn't that describe what God has done for us? When we kept our sin silent, we withdrew from him. We saw him as an enemy. We took steps to avoid his presence. But our confession of faults alters our perception. God is no longer a foe but a friend. We are at peace with him. And he did more than the monk ever did. More than share in our sin, Jesus was "crushed for the evil we did. The punishment, which made us well, was given to him." (Isa. 53:5) "He accepted the shame." (Heb. 12:2) And he leads us into the presence of God.

Being ushered into God's presence is the second blessing Paul describes: "Because of our faith, Christ has brought us into this place of undeserved privilege where we now stand. " (Rom. 5:2) Look at the phrase, "has brought us into." The Greek word means "to usher into the presence of royalty." Twice in Ephesians Paul reminds us of our right to enter God's presence: “It is through Christ that all of us are able to come into the presence of the Father.” (Eph. 2:18) “Now we can come fearlessly right into God's presence. . . .” (Eph. 3:12) Christ meets us outside the throne room, takes us by the hand, and walks us into the presence of God. Upon entrance we find grace, not condemnation; mercy, not punishment. Where we would never be granted an audience with the king, we are now welcomed into his presence. And if you’re a parent you understand that.

For instance, if a child you don't know appears on your doorstep and asks to spend the night, what would you do? Well, you’d likely ask him his name, where he lives, find out why he’s roaming the streets, and then contact his parents. On the other hand, if a youngster enters your house escorted by your child, that child is welcome. The same is true with God. By becoming friends with the Son, we gain access to the Father. Jesus promised, "All those who stand before others and say they believe in me, I will say before my Father in heaven that * * * they belong to me." (Matt. 10:32) Because we are friends of his Son, we have an entrance into the throne room. He ushers us into that "blessing of God's grace that we now enjoy." (Rom. 5:2) This gift is not an occasional visit before God, but rather a permanent "access by faith into this grace by which we now stand." (v. 2)

And here’s where my analogy with the baseball strike of ’95 ends. The replacement players knew their status was only temporary. Their privilege lasted only as long as the strike continued. Not so with us. Our privilege lasts as long as God is faithful, and his faithfulness has never been questioned. "If we are not faithful, he will still be faithful, because he cannot be false to himself." (2 Tim. 2:13) Isaiah described God's faithfulness as the "belt around his waist." (Isa. 11:5) David said that the Lord's faithfulness "reaches to the heavens." (Ps. 36:5) I suppose the baseball analogy would work if the team owner conferred upon us the status of lifetime team members. And if that were true, our position on the team wouldn’t depend upon our performance, but upon the owner’s power. But has a baseball owner ever given such a gift? I don't think so, but God has. And God does.

Finally, note the sequence of these blessings. The first blessing deals with our past; we have peace with God because our past is pardoned. The second blessing deals with the present. We have a place with God because Jesus has presented us to his Father. Any guess what the next blessing is? Right. Our future. "… and we confidently and joyfully look forward to sharing God’s glory." (Rom. 5:2) Because of God's grace, we go from being people whose "throats are like open graves," (Ps. 5:9) to being participants in God's glory.

We were washed up and put out; now we’ve been called up and put in.

Grace,

Randy

Rrack-rracked

Rrack-rracked

All need to be made right with God by his grace, which is a free gift. They need to be made free from sin through Jesus Christ. God gave him as a way to forgive sin through faith in the blood of Jesus. (Rom. 3:24-25)

Remember the good ol' days when credit cards were imprinted by hand? The clerk would take your plastic and place it in the imprint machine, and rrack-rrack, the numbers would be registered and the purchase would be made. I learned how to operate an imprint machine at a Sears’s store where I worked in sporting goods. For about a dollar an hour I sold all sorts of sports stuff. My favorite task, however, was imprinting the customer’s credit cards, usually a Sears card. There's nothing like the surge of power you feel when you run the imprinter over the plastic. I'd usually steal a glance at the customer and watch him or her wince as I rrack-rracked his card.

Credit card purchases today aren't nearly as dramatic. Nowadays the magnetic strip is swiped or inserted in a slot. No noise. No drama. No pain. Bring back the rrack-rrack days when the purchase was announced for everyone to hear. Buying some sporting goods? Rrack-rrack. Charge some clothes? Rrack-rrack. Paying for dinner? Rrack-rrack. If the noise didn't get you, the statement at the end of the month would. Thirty days is ample time to rrack up enough purchases to rrack your budget. And a lifetime is plenty of time to rrack up some major debt in heaven.

You yell at your kids, rrack-rrack. Covet a friend's car, rrack-rrack. Envy your neighbor's success, rrack-rrack. Break a promise, rrack-rrack. Lie, rrack-rrack. Lose control, rrack-rrack. Rrack-rrack, rrack-rrack, rrack-rrack. Further and further in debt. Now, initially, we attempt to repay what we owe. So, every prayer is a check written, and each good deed is a payment made. If we can do one good act for every bad act, then won't our account kind of balance out in the end? If I can counter my cussing with compliments, and my vices with victories – then won't my account be justified? It would, except for two problems. First, I don't know the cost of each sin. The price of a baseball at Sears is easy to figure. The cost of a sin? Not so much.

What, for example, is the charge for getting mad in traffic? I get ticked off at some guy who cuts in front of me, for instance. What do I do to pay for my crime? Drive fifty in a fifty-five mile per hour zone? Give a wave and a smile to ten consecutive cars? Who knows? Or what if I wake up in a bad mood? What's the charge for a couple of mopey hours? Will one church service next Sunday offset one grumpy morning today? And what qualifies as a bad mood? Is the charge for grumpiness less on cloudy days than on sunny ones? Or am I permitted a certain number of grouchy days per year? Kind of like sick leave. It can get confusing.

And not only don't I know the cost of my sins, I don't always know the occasion of my sins. There are times when I sin and I don't even know it. How do I pay for those? Do I get an exemption based on ignorance? And what about the sins I'm committing now without realizing it? What if somebody somewhere discovers it’s a sin to play golf? Or what if God thinks the way I play golf is a sin? Not good. I'll have some serious settling up to do. And what about you? Any sins of omission on this month's statement? Did you miss a chance to do good? Overlook an opportunity to forgive? Neglect an open door to serve? Did you seize every chance to encourage your friends? Rrack-rrack, rrack-rrack, rrack-rrack.

And there are other concerns, too. The grace period, for example. My credit card allows a minimal payment and then rolls the debt into the next month. Does God? Will he let me pay off today's greed next year? And what about interest? If I leave a sin on my statement for several months, does it incur more sin? And speaking of the statement . . . . Where is it? Can I see it? Who has it? How do I pay it off? There it is.

That's the question, isn’t it? How do I deal with the debt I owe to God? Deny it? My conscience won't let me. Find worse sins in others? God won't fall for that. Claim lineage immunity? Family pride won't help. Try to pay it off? I could, but that takes us back to the problem. We don't know the cost of our sin. In fact, we don't even know how much we owe. So, what do we do?

Listen to Paul's answer. “All need to be made right with God by his grace, which is a free gift. They need to be made free from sin through Jesus Christ. God gave him as a way to forgive sin through faith in the blood of Jesus.” (Rom. 3:24-25) Simply put: the cost of your sin is more than you can afford to pay. The gift of your God is more than you can imagine. "A person is made right with God through faith," Paul explains, "not through obeying the law." (v. 28) This may very well be the most difficult spiritual truth for us to embrace. For some reason, people accept Jesus as Lord before they accept him as Savior. It's easier to comprehend his power than his mercy. We’ll celebrate the empty tomb long before we'll kneel at the cross. We, like Thomas, would die for Christ before we'd let Christ die for us. We aren't alone, however. We aren't the first to struggle with Paul's presentation of grace. Apparently, the first ones to doubt the epistle to the Romans were the first ones to read it. In fact, you get the impression that Paul expects some questions. It’s like Paul lifting his pen and imagining his readers – some squirming, some doubting, and some denying. Anticipating their thoughts, he deals with their objections head-on.

The first objection comes from the pragmatist. "Do we destroy the law by following the way of faith?" (Rom. 3:31) The concern here is motivation. "If I'm not saved by my works, then why work? If I'm not saved by the law, then why keep the law? If I'm not saved by what I do, then why do anything?" You've got to admit, grace is a little risky. There’s a chance that people will take it to an extreme. There’s the possibility that people will abuse God's goodness. A word about that Sears card might be helpful here. I have a simple rule about credit cards: own as few as possible, and pay them off as soon as you can. I don’t like paying interest to a bank; I get so little from them in return, anyway. So, if it’s at all possible, I try to pay the balance in full at the end of each month.

So, you can imagine my children’s surprise when my wife and I put a credit card in their hand the day they left for college. Standing in the driveway with the car packed and farewells said, we handed it to them. Our only instructions were, "Be careful how you use it." Pretty risky, don't you think? And as they were driving away to college, it probably occurred to them that they were now free. They could go anywhere they wanted. They had wheels and a tank of gas, their clothes, money in their pocket and a stereo in the trunk. And, most of all, they had a credit card. The shackles were off. They could have been in Mexico before nightfall. So, what was to keep them from going wild? That’s the question of the pragmatist. What’s to keep us from going wild? If worshiping doesn't save me, why worship? If giving doesn't save me, then why give? If my morality doesn't save me, then watch out. Jude warns of this attitude when he speaks of people who "abuse his grace as an opportunity for immorality." (Jude 4) Later, Paul will counter his critics with the question, "So do you think we should continue sinning so that God will give us even more grace? No!" (Rom. 6:1-2) Or as one translator writes, "What a ghastly thought!"

A ghastly thought, indeed. Grace promoting evil? Mercy endorsing sin? What a horrible idea. The apostle uses the strongest Greek idiom possible to repudiate the idea: Me genoito. The phrase literally means, "may it never be!" As he has already said, God's "kindness is meant to lead you to repentance." (Rom. 2:4) Someone who sees grace as permission to sin has missed grace entirely. Mercy understood is holiness desired. "[Jesus] gave himself for us so he might pay the price to free us from all evil and to make us pure people who belong only to him – people who are always wanting to do good deeds." (Titus 2:14) Note that last phrase: "people who are always wanting to do good deeds." Grace fosters an eagerness for good. Grace doesn't spawn a desire to sin. If one has truly embraced God's gift, he will not mock it. In fact, if a person uses God's mercy as a liberty to sin, you wonder whether that person ever knew God's mercy at all.

When we gave the kids their credit card, we didn't attach a list of rules and regulations. There was no contract for them to sign or rules to read. We didn't make them place their hand on the Bible and pledge to reimburse us for any expenses. In fact, we didn't ask for any repayment at all. And, as things turned out, they went a few weeks into the semester without ever using it. Why? Because we gave them more than a card – we gave them our trust. And where they might break our rules, they weren’t about to abuse our trust. God's trust makes us eager to do right. That’s the genius of grace. The law can show us where we do wrong, but it can't make us eager to do what’s right. Grace can. Or as Paul answers, "Faith causes us to be what the law truly wants." (Rom. 3:31)

The second objection to grace comes from those who are cautious of anything new. "Don't give me any of this new-fangled teaching. Just give me the law. If it was good enough for Abraham, it’s good enough for me." "All right, let me tell you about the faith of your father, Abraham," Paul answers. "If Abraham was made right by the things he did, he had a reason to brag. But this is not God's view, because the Scripture says, 'Abraham believed God, and God accepted Abraham's faith, and that faith made him right with God.'" (Rom. 4:2-3) These words must have stunned the Jews because Paul points to Abraham as a prototype of grace, not works. The Jews upheld Abraham as a man who was blessed because of his obedience. Not the case, argues Paul. The first book in the Bible says that Abraham "believed the LORD, and he credited it to him as righteousness." (Gen. 15:6) It was his faith, not his works that made him right with God.

Five times in six verses Paul uses the word credit. The term is common in financing. To credit an account is to make a deposit. If I credit your account, then I either increase your balance or lower your debt. Wouldn't it be nice if someone credited your credit card account? All month long you rrack-rrack up the bills, dreading the day the statement comes in the mail. Then, when it comes, you leave it on your desk for a few days, not wanting to see how much you owe. Finally, you force yourself to open the envelope. With one eye closed and the other open, you peek at the number. What you read causes the other eye to pop open. "A zero balance?" There must be a mistake. So you call the bank that issued the card. "Yes," the representative explains, "your account is paid in full. A person who wishes to remain anonymous sent us a check to cover your debt." You can't believe your ears. "How do you know their check is good?" "Oh, there’s no doubt. Your benefactor has been paying off people's debts for years."

Jesus would love to do the same. And he can. He has no personal debt at all. And, what's more, he’s been doing it for years. For proof, Paul reaches into the two-thousand-year-old file marked "Abram of Ur" and pulls out a statement. The statement has its share of charges. Abram was far from perfect. There were times when he trusted the Egyptians before he trusted God. He even lied, telling Pharaoh that his wife was his sister. But Abram made one decision that changed his eternal life: "He trusted God to set him right instead of trying to be right on his own." (Rom. 4:3) Here’s a man justified by faith before his circumcision (v. 10), before the law (v. 13), before Moses and the Ten Commandments. Here’s a man justified by faith before the cross. The sin-covering blood of Calvary extends as far into the past as it does into the future.

We must not see grace as a provision made after the law had failed. Grace was offered before the law was revealed. Indeed, grace was offered before man was created. "You were bought, not with something that ruins like gold or silver, but with the precious blood of Christ, who was like a pure and perfect lamb. Christ was chosen before the world was made, but he was shown to the world in these last times for your sake." (1 Pet. 1:18-20) But why would God offer grace before we needed it? Good question.

God doesn't want us to sin. But he knows us. "He made their hearts and understands everything they do." (Ps. 33:15) "He knows how we were made." (Ps. 103:14) And he knew that we would someday need his grace. Grace is nothing new. God's mercy predates Paul and his readers, predates David and Abraham; it even predates creation. God's grace is older than your sin, and greater than your sin. Sound too good to be true?

That's the third objection. Just as there was a pragmatist who said grace is too risky, and a traditionalist who said grace is too new, there was likely a skeptic who said, "That’s too good to be true." This is by far the most common objection to grace. Questions of a young man who spent two university years saying yes to the flesh and no to God. A young woman who wonders if God could forgive an abortion she had a decade ago. A father who’s just realized he'd devoted his life to work and neglected his kids. All are wondering if they've overextended their credit line with God. They aren't alone. The vast majority of people simply state, "God may give grace to you, but not to me. You see, I've charted the waters of failure. I've pushed the envelope too many times. I'm not your typical sinner. I'm guilty of ___________________." And they fill in the blank. How would you fill in yours?

Is there a chapter in your biography that condemns you? A valley of your heart too deep for the firstborn Son to reach? If you think there’s no hope, then Paul has a person he wants you to meet. Our barren past reminds the apostle of Sarah's barren womb. God had promised Sarah and Abram a child. In fact, the name Abram meant "exalted father." God even changed Abram's name to Abraham, “Father of many.” But still no son. Forty years passed before the promise was honored. Don't you think the conversation became dreadfully routine for Abraham? "What’s your name?" "Abraham." "Oh, 'father of many'! What a great title. Tell me, how many sons do you have?" Abraham would sigh and answer, "None." God had promised a child, but Abraham had no son.

He left his home for an unknown land, but no son was born. He overcame famine, but still had no son. His nephew Lot came and went, but still no son. He would have encounters with angels and Melchizedek but still be without an heir. By now Abraham was ninety-nine, and Sarah wasn’t much younger. She knitted and he played solitaire, and both chuckled at the thought of bouncing a boy on their bony knees. He lost his hair, she lost her teeth, and neither spent a lot of time lusting for the other. But somehow they never lost hope. Occasionally, he'd think of God's promise and give her a wink, and she'd give him a smile and think, “Well, God did promise us a child, didn't he?” When everything was hopeless, Abraham believed anyway, deciding to live not on the basis of what he saw he couldn't do, but on what God said he would do.

Abraham didn't focus on his impotence and say, "It's hopeless. This hundred-year-old body could never have a child." Nor did he survey Sarah's decades of infertility and give up. He didn't tiptoe around God's promise cautiously asking skeptical questions. He plunged into the promise and came up strong, ready for God. That's why it’s said, "Abraham was declared fit before God by trusting God to set him right." (Rom. 4:18-21) Everything was gone. No youth. No vigor. No strength. The get-up-and-go had got up and gone. All old Abe and Sarah had was a social-security check and a promise from heaven. But Abraham decided to trust the promise rather than focus on the problems. And, as a result, the Medicare couple was the first to bring a crib into the nursing home.

Do we have much more than Abraham and Sarah? Not really. There's not a one of us who hasn't rrack-rracked up more bills than we could ever pay. But there's not a one of us who has to remain in debt. The same God who gave a child to Abraham has promised grace to us, too. So, what's more incredible, Sarah telling Abraham that he was a daddy, or God calling you and me righteous? Both are absurd. Both are too good to be true. But both are from God.

Grace,

Randy