There’s something about this strange, weird, sea that we swim in…
We can receive the message of God’s grace like a tyre getting slow punctured; a monopoly player picking up a ‘Get out of jail Free’ card; Year 9 students being informed they’ve got a supply teacher. It seems to deflate, to relax, to take us off the hook. We breath our sighs of relief, get on with a christianized version of that which we would have done anyway, and throw a bit of sin management in should any guilt still linger. We’re broken, flawed and fragile and, thank goodness, it doesn’t matter too much now anyway.
In the scriptures, when people received grace. It seemed more like a fire receiving petrol; Leicester city players getting their medals; like a blind man receiving his sight. It appears to have emboldened, to have steeled their spines, to have propelled them towards service and brave deeds. They rejoiced, changed course, and were stirred to wage brutal war on their sin.
It seems grace, rather than leaving people thankful for being let off, actually caused people to want to put themselves more on the hook than they ever had been before.
Grace hooks, doesn’t it?