2 min. read
This week’s episode of the Reimagining Podcast concerning reimagining grace has me … well … reimagining grace. Imagine that! Ha.
Since I’m more of a Hebrew Scripture guy, I don’t think grace is a purely New Testament thing. Sure, Jesus shows us what both divine grace and human grace might look like. But his life springs from the reality contained in the Old Testament narrative.
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Messed Up “Saints”
Those ancient stories do not contain saints. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and all the rest were a bunch of messed up people. Maybe just like us. And the narrative stories show us a deity who seems to take delight in these very un-delightful people. Maybe, just like us.
It’s offensive to think that, if there is a divine personality, that God actively loves and accepts messed up people. Why is that offensive? Because we tend to thirst for our brand of justice.
Usually our justice has to do with getting what one deserves. The God of the Hebrew Scripture, and the Jesus who called that God “Father,” don’t seem to be at all interested in the idea of making sure people get what they deserve.
The grace we see displayed in these narratives is entirely unbalanced.
God’s grace seems reckless and anything but moderate.
Human Grace
As we are human and not divine, how do we live out a human grace toward others?
Well, I have to look at Jesus in all of his humanity to see how he does it. Paul seems to accurately describe how Jesus lived in 2 Corinthians 4.7-10. In this letter he is equating his own life with the life of Jesus, the human.
We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed.
And in the next line he makes the direct comparison:
Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies.
Could this be how we messed up humans might live graciously? If so, I have to ask, if we are pressured, why aren’t we crushed? If we are perplexed, why are we not hopeless? If we are persecuted, why aren’t we abandoned? If we are struck down, why don’t we quit?
Maybe it has something to do with the offensive and audacious act of equating our own lives to the human life of Jesus. Just like I can share in the wisdom of Socrates; just like I can share in the ethics of Aristotle; just like I can share in the discipline of Seneca; just like I can share in the humanism of Shakespeare; just like I can share in the angst of Kierkeegard; just like I can share in the questioning of Camus … I can also share in the grace of Jesus of Nazareth.
And you can, too.
If more of us embraced offensive grace, who knows what injustices might actually be rendered moot?