How do you define grace?
The Sunday School Answer: “God’s love for us.”
The Bible College Answer: Some cute acronym like “God’s Redemptive Atonement through Christ for Everyone.”
The Seminary Answer: A completely uninspiring discussion of five-point Calvinism, or some competing theological matrix designed to fully convey the intersecting nature of sovereignty and redemption. Yippee.
People who are lacking in one of these programmed responses—once they understand you are talking about the faith issue and not the grace of gazelles or figure skaters—will usually get a little dreamy-eyed, then stumble around trying to put words to their yearnings. I understand that feeling: beggared speech in the presence of my heart’s desire.
I have never been fond of rational explanations for something that is such a familiar mystery. I used to define grace as a hot cup of coffee on a rainy day; but something happened a few years ago that changed my metaphor. It was during the winter of ‘99 that I decided grace was a snow day.
I had spent ten years as a high school debate coach, my wife was a first grade teacher, and our girls were in elementary school. So when we heard a snow day cancellation on the news, it was like we were all axe murderers who had just gotten a stay from the governor. Ahh. Life.
If you live too far south you don’t understand the pure joy that comes when you sit up in bed, listening to the radio as the announcer makes his way through the alphabet.
The A schools…the B schools….(They had only forecast 2-3 inches the night before, which might not be enough to call off school; but it was still coming down.) Wait…wait…the K schools…the L schools….Commercial….Seven minutes of commercials! I really needed to pee, but I was afraid I’d miss it. Picking up with the M schools…wait…wait…here we go…THERE IT IS! The 2-3 inches was going to become 14 INCHES by the end of the day! This was going to be a snow week!
The house erupted with cheers, dances, and a flurry of activity in preparation for snow and snow-related fun (we love snow, mmmmm…snow). I walked past my oldest daughter’s room and my attitude soured. The room was a mess. She was supposed to have cleaned it yesterday.
“Cassidy.”
“Yeah,” she replied, while furiously tugging on her boots.
“Did you clean your room last night like I asked?”
Boot-tugging ceased. One on, one off.
A weak “no.”
“No snow for you until this room is completely cleaned up.”
You would have thought that I just told her I killed baby monkeys for a living. It wasn’t just a protest; it was the deepest heart-wrenching form of pain. She looked at me with those I-can’t-believe-you’re-a-monkey-killer eyes, and tears began to spill.
But I was going to hold firm, by God. (What a great piece of leverage, the snow. You don’t pay, you don’t play.) I had her and she knew it. She lodged her feeble complaints, but she knew she had no grounds. She also knew that her room was not going to be cleaned quickly. It was bad.
She turned and limped down the hall, mono-booted and fully resigned to her situation. As I watched her make her walk of despair and heard the sobs beginning, my mind turned to grace for some strange reason.
I had heard about grace all my life; it was a familiar term. But I had recently become attracted to the radical teachings of people like Henri Nouwen, Philip Yancey, and Brennan Manning, who describes grace as a “relentless tenderness” that is unmerited and transforms the way we inhabit the world. This new grace does more than provide cheap comfort and make us feel good, it causes us to adopt a posture of gratitude rather than fear. Becoming an agent of grace means having the faith to trust.
What a hypocrite you are. You talk about the way this irrational, radical grace can transform relationships, even whole cultures, but every chance you get you make sure that everybody gets what they deserve. That’s right. Serve up justice, baby. Make’em pay. Don’t let anyone get by with anything. Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile. If you don’t hold this girl accountable, there’s no telling what she’ll do next. Little sinner girl.
Stop.
Deep breath.
“Cassidy,” I said. “Go ahead and get your clothes on and go outside.”
“I can’t,” she replied with small shoulders hunching up and down and sob spasms pulling her chin in and out of her chest. “I (sniff) Have (hic) To (hic) Clean (snort) My (snort) Room (rapid F-sound inhale…head rises…then long exhale) Firrrrrrrrrrrst (head sinks).”
“You’re right; your room needs to be cleaned. But you go on out. I’m going to clean your room for you.”
The look will never leave my memory. It burned into me the way only the deepest delight and hardest pain can. The astonishment: Who are you and what have you done with my father? The ecstasy: Snowww Funnnn! It thrilled me that an act of grace had the power to elicit such a response. But it broke my heart that when my little girl looked at me she expected justice, not mercy.
She spent the morning dodging snowballs, making angels, and chasing down jewelry and clothing for the snowpeople slowing populating our yard. I spent the morning digging through layer upon layer of mess.
There were no thanks when she came in for the day. I expected as much. I reminded myself that this life of grace was going to be difficult. Some wouldn’t appreciate it. Some would resent it.
That evening Cassidy came to me with a wad of money in her hand.
“What’s this, honey?”
“It’s what’s left over from my allowance. I’m giving it back because I didn’t clean my room. I’m sorry. Thanks Dad.” She hugged me and ran off to get her hot chocolate.
Everything changed for me right then. In that moment of faith and glory, grace went from being a cute, domesticated religious idea to being my only source of hope. It became the single most important thing in the world to me. Without you, grace, I will surely fail. I will become the worst kind of angry, self-righteous Pharisee. I could do well in this life, I could even prosper; but without grace, it all collapses in on itself.
Justice and righteousness give us certainty and order. But grace gives us freedom and life.
I would like to report that my life has become much more grace-filled, but I’m not sure I can. My daughters still look at me with astonishment on the rare occasion that I show them gratuitous mercy and tenderness. I still don’t trust as much as I should.
I have not arrived, but I still reach.
Maybe it will snow tonight.
12 comments:
Thanks for Sharing! I often wonder why we're so quick to judge others for their actions, vocabulary, accomplishments and speech when so much grace was extended to us? In my day to day contact with strangers who I know nothing about, I'm made constantly aware of my wretchedness. But in the same contact with those strangers, God quickly changes my thinking, reveals his grace, and at some points has even brought me to tears. My ailment has not yet been cured but I'm praying that I can someday look at everyone the way Jesus does.
Ozark Public Schools are cancelled for today.
So are all (and I mean ALL) schools in Bolivar.
I need a snow day, big time.
Beautiful. Why do we make life so complicated when the simplest of moments illustrate the grandest of God's themes?
Weird. My buddy Chad recently blogged about snow days and grace. Must be a speech teacher thing =0)
I'm reading Manning's "Relentless Tenderness of Jesus" right now. I've actually been reading it for about two months. And while I find myself agreeing and being overwhelmed with the picture of grace, I don't think I'm any more gracious or loving than I was two months ago.
Perhaps it is time for a snow day. . . - Jennifer
All of you are testifying to the deep yearning we have for his kind of love. Thanks.
Brother, I'm glad you raised the issues you did in your first comment. You are correct that what I did is a poor model for parenting or leading. We couldn't behave like that all the time or we would soon slip into a form of anarchy. It wouldn't make sense.
I suppose that's what I love about grace--it isn't rational; it doesn't make sense. It is extravagant beyond reason. I think most of us have always equated grace with a sort of kindness or niceness. Grace is far more reckless than that. When warned that if you give them an inch they'll take a mile, grace replies, "Then let's give them 10 miles."
When we really start to respond to grace, our lives become marked by a posture of gratitude, not an attitude of fear or ambition. You can't earn grace, you just have to accept it. Once you do, you can't help but be thankful.
Those who get it (grace) will live lives of thankfulness, with some righteous anger aimed at those who would vandalize the idea of grace for others. Those who don't get it are always seeking to find approval in certainty and control, with some unrighteous anger reserved for those who don't agree with them. Most of us fall somewhere in-between hoping for snow days.
Brother, I think you get that. I appreciate your honesty.
brother requested I remove his comments. While I don't think the comments deserved removal, I respected his request.
This one really touched my soul. It is a beautifully accurate portrait of grace. Thanks for giving us another applicable example of God's ways versus humankind ways. Please keep writing and sharing your "right on the target" messages.
Reacher,
While we are @ polar opposites re: political perspectives and a few other things, I give you grand kudos for the snow day article. I work in a field where I serve people on the public till. They continually take the mile when given the inch, and then tear the hell out of products I and you paid for w/our hard work and tax money because they simply have no appreciation for what it took to aquire the item. So, I used to bitch and scream and raise my blood pressure to the point just short of popping my ears off w/ comments of,"I'm working twelve hours a day, why don't they get a job, etc."
What I've discovered over time, is that I'm not going to change culture nor those people w/my anger. So, I thank God for my ability and intelligence that allows me to work, and honor each individual as one created in God's image. I know they're still going to take the mile, and that they're wrong in doing so. But I can't get angry and ruin my health or my closeness to God. I guess that's grace to a small extent, coming to a point of not having to make things right.
hey cousin brett! that's my favorite story of yours :) i've been meaning to come to your site often, but i've been super busy. the funny thing is i'm learning a ton about grace right now and it's the seminary kind of grace with all the soveignty of God and the confusion of pre-destination, but it's been really good and challenging! i have a xanga site http://www.xanga.com/andrealeannhatman and i'm going to post this on my site b/c i want all my friends to read it :) feel free to come check it out and i'll talk to you soon!
you better believe you're gonna be a star...famous people read my xanga ya know ;) thanks for visiting!
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