Doing Things by Grace

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. (Hebrews 4:16)

Each day my computer generates a list of people, places and things to pray for. I choose a Bible verse or passage that strikes me as important to pray over my list. Today, my regular Bible reading had me in Hebrews, and I turned 4:16 into this prayer: “[May you] hold firmly to what [you] believe [and] come boldly to the throne of our gracious God [to] receive his mercy, and find grace to help [you] when [you] need it most.”

The Greek says we “receive” (λαμβάνω) mercy, but we “find” (εὑρίσκω) grace. I know I have a tendency to make more of semantics than may be necessary, but the choice of these two words, and the way they complement each other sparked my interest. First, lambano (λαμβάνω) has a variety of meanings, receive being one legitimate way to translate it. Another word often used in translating it is “take.” Strong’s lexicon has an interesting note on this: “to take by craft (our catch, used of hunters, fisherman, etc.). Mercy is there “for the taking,” as we might say.

The word used by the writer of Hebrews for “find” (eurisko, εὑρίσκω) is also fascinating. Again, Strong’s has this to say in part, “to find by enquiry, thought, examination, scrutiny, observation, to find out by practice and experience.” I do not mean to suggest that we somehow work to find grace. Grace is freely given by God to all. However, I know in my life it has taken some “practice and experience” to find grace. I have a natural tendency to do things my way instead of the “grace-way.”

I suspect I am not alone in struggling to live by grace. The so-called American way is to pull oneself up by one’s own bootstraps as they say. The image of that old adage is instructive: pulling on one’s bootstraps will only make the boots too tight; little will be accomplished as far as getting “up,” wherever that may be. This is a good picture of what happens when we try to do something in our own human power instead of relying on God’s gracious provision of His infinite power.

The writer of Hebrews encourages us to, “come boldly unto the throne of grace” as the KJV puts it. The ESV says we should draw near, “with confidence.” Boldness comes with the confidence that we will be well received. Due to the work of our forerunner, Jesus, we have such confidence, but often we either ignore the offer of grace, or we forget that it has been made. I don’t intend to shame anyone, (least of all myself), but don’t we belittle the work of Christ for us when we refuse the free gift of grace He bought for us?

I am challenged by this thought. I share the challenge with you, my reader. Let’s drop the bootstrap analogy and practice the new one given to us “new creations.” If we fish the mercy out of the ocean of promises God offers, and then we thoughtfully apply the grace of God to our tasks, there is no limit to what we can accomplish. Literally, no limit; that’s what infinite means, and God’s grace is infinite.

Ruthless Mercy

I had been contemplating something that I knew would result in another blog post soon. Then in church yesterday, we looked at the Beatitude in Matthew 5:8, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” The sermon not only gave me much to think about, it gave me the title for this post.

Here’s the plot: A powerful man has an adulterous affair with his neighbor’s wife who becomes pregnant as a result. To cover his tracks, the adulterer has the adulteress’s husband murdered. In a turn of what must be poetic justice, the child of the sordid affair dies shortly after birth. Later, another child is born to the same couple, and he rises to the highest levels of power in the world. Apparently plagued by the same problem with lust as his father, the son also complicates his life with multiple intimate relationships. In a tragic irony, his children ignore his wishes and after he dies, they destroy everything he and their grandfather had built.

Most of you reading this were not fooled into thinking it was the plot of the latest Hollywood blockbuster, but rather the story of David and Solomon, two “heroes” of the Bible if there ever were such a thing. Two heroes, by the way, who were specially blessed by God in almost unimaginable ways. David was a giant-slayer; Solomon was the wisest man who ever lived. In their writings, both give God the credit for their accomplishments. Even though they were giants among men, their problems were gigantic as well.

If these two were the only examples of morally fallen heroes, it would be notable, but unusual. It’s not unusual at all, strangely enough. Start with Abraham: he slept with his wife’s servant… at her request. His son, Isaac, pulled a fast one on his father-in-law to increase his own wealth. Isaac’s son cheated and lied his way into stealing his older brother’s lawful inheritance (with the collusion of their mother). The prophet Jonah ran the opposite direction when God called him to Nineveh. The Apostle Peter denied Christ three times on what was arguably the most important night of his life. And that’s not a complete list. The lineage of the Messiah himself is peopled by a whore, an incestuous daughter-in-law, and a prohibited union with foreigner. Sheesh!

At first it seems counter-intuitive to have the record of God’s redemptive history peppered with so many downright unsavory personalities. It seems like the people of God should be stainless saints, models of good behavior. They are anything but that. In fact, they look just like normal people; dare I say, they look just like me. Samson, the one super-hero who shows up has so many bad characteristics that it is almost embarrassing to call him one of God’s chosen – but he was.

The Bible clearly says that God’s ways are beyond figuring out; his thoughts are as far above mine as the sky is high. Yet the Scripture also says that God knows exactly what he is doing in all things, and that his purposes cannot be thwarted – even by deeply flawed humans. In fact, God seems to revel in using deeply flawed humans to accomplish his will. That’s probably a good thing, since flawed humans are all he has to work with if he is going to use any of us. That is precisely my point.

None of us can say, “God couldn’t use me; I’m too (fill in the blank).” If God only used perfect people, his one chance has come and gone (although he is coming again!). It looks to me as if God chooses to use a certain kind of imperfect person. David will serve as an example. Scripture calls David a man after God’s own heart (this after he messed up royally). Because David was such a prolific writer, we can see his attitude toward his self-confessed waywardness: he was contrite; he was repentant. Read Psalm 51 if you want one example.

You might also want to read Psalm 139, another penned by David. The reason David could remain a man after God’s own heart is because of what he prayed in Psalm 139. In the first verse David admits that God knows him inside and out, but especially inside. In the last verse David prays that God would share what he knows: “if there be any wicked way in me.” David knew that his loving Heavenly Father would find the dirt inside, and cleanse it (Psalm 51). David knew he couldn’t hide anything anywhere, so he submitted himself to God’s cleansing.

Being prepared for service by God can be scary. In church yesterday, Pastor Troy Champ used the analogy of turning over rocks to uncover all the creepy things that hide there. In “Not Our Father’s God” I recalled C. S. Lewis’ picture of the lion Aslan as a figure of Christ who is not tame, but safe. In Voyage of the Dawntreader Lewis has another powerful picture of the work God will do if we let him. The wayward child, Eustace, had turned into a dragon as a result of his sinful ways. Aslan offers to lovingly remove the dragon flesh, a process which Eustace describes as both painful and delightful. It is never fun to discover the things that hide in the dark places of our souls, but it is necessary to become the “pure in heart” Jesus identified in the Beatitude.

Someone said that God loves us just as we are, but loves us too much to leave us the way we are. That is a good thing; that is how we become clay in the Potter’s hand so we can be shaped into vessels for his use. God is tirelessly seeking to conform us into the image of his son. Troy referred to this loving pursuit by God as his ruthless mercy. He does not give us what we deserve, that’s his ruthless mercy. But in his boundless grace, he makes us the best we can be if we only let him. Bring it on, God of mercy; bring it on.

To Love Mercy

If you are a regular reader, you know I have written several times about the importance of love, agape love particularly. (See "The Pursuit of..." or "Goodness of Wrath" ) This morning at my home church for this winter, Capital Church, Salt Lake City, pastor Troy Champ brought something to my attention that I hadn’t seen exactly this way before. I have stressed that the agape love of the New Testament is unlike the love of Hollywood or even that of many warm, fuzzy churches. Agape love is a love of the will – it is more than an emotion, although emotion is not absent (See More Than a Feeling). This morning, I saw a picture of how God demonstrates the love that agape replicates.

We are in a series on the Beatitudes, this morning landing on verse seven of Matthew five, blessed are the merciful. Troy brought us back to the Old Testament to see what mercy looks like. To understand the New Testament meaning of the Greek word Matthew used for mercy , eleos (ἔλεος), we looked at the three Hebrew words the Greek Old Testament (Septuagint) translated as “mercy” (ἔλεος). One Hebrew verse uses all three, Psalm 103:8: “The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” Each Hebrew word has something to teach us, but it is the third, hesed (חָסַד), translated “steadfast love” in this verse that struck me this morning.

Troy pointed out that hesed is God’s covenant love for His people. (Ligonier has a good article on this.) Typically, a covenant is between two parties, but as we see regarding the covenant with Abraham (Genesis 15), God pretty much takes both parts. He’s basically saying, no matter what you do on your side, I will be faithful on my side. That sums up Old Testament history completely. Israel repeatedly broke their side of the covenant, but God remained faithful. At the Cross of Calvary, God said, “It is finished” through the God-Man, Jesus Christ, meaning the covenant promise was fulfilled.

The reason this teaches us about mercy is that God showed His love for us “while we were still sinners.” In other words, mercy takes no measure of the worthiness of the object of mercy. To be merciful is to show love and forgiveness to those who don’t deserve it. God’s covenant love is not like the human love we see most often. Human love is commercial or transactional: we expect a return for our investment. I love you because of what you can do for me. I give this; you return that. But in the case of God’s love for us, we can give back nothing. Nothing.

So what we are called to give in the New Testament, that agape love, is really hesed, covenant love. It is love toward all of God’s image bearers regardless of what they have to offer in return. Let’s face it: all humans are created in God’s image, but not all seem worthy of the hesed God promises. That’s precisely the point. This morning, Troy called us to show mercy and love to those who “sin differently” than we do. His meaning: we are all sinners; it is self-righteous to think we are better than this one or that one.

There is one caveat: the relationships we build with this covenant love of God are not without boundaries. Our love does not extend to enablement. Our love does not become complicity in sin. All things to all men to win some (1 Corinthians 9:23) does not excuse unrighteous behavior on our part. But we can love someone all the way to the prison cell or recovery center and back if that is what it takes. “Love the sinner; hate the sin” is a cliché, but it seems to be God’s position in this matter.

I was reminded this morning that the love we are called to is not transactional, it is covenantal. We are not supposed to expect anything in return. Our “covenant” with the lost should reflect God’s covenant with us. Mercy is mercy precisely because the recipient does not deserve it. We should be watching for people in our lives who don’t deserve mercy, and then we should show them what mercy looks like. At that point we will be God’s true image-bearers. We will be acting as God’s agents of mercy in a world that desperately needs to see God. Micah summarizes the call: “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” Okay, “Mortal,” it’s your turn.