I can’t fake grace (and you can’t either)

Posted on November 24, 2019November 24, 2019 by Matt Todd

This post about living a life full of grace and forgiveness contains affiliate links. That means I will be compensated if you make a purchase after clicking on the appropriate links. You can learn more in my Disclosure Policy. As always, thank you for your support.

I can't fake grace - and you can't either

I keep reminding you that it behooves us to live. But what does that look like in our daily lives? One way to live life to its fullest is to live a life full of grace and forgiveness. It lightens our load, lessens our spiritual burden, and it really is just the right thing to do. But it’s not easy.

I like to think I can fake that I’m living a life full of grace. But I’m going to be honest here: there’s a lot of work to do. It does behoove us to live with grace and forgiveness. And I can’t fake it. You probably can’t, either.

Summer in the Son, sometime in the early-90s

Much like my Shock the World story, the details are a little fuzzy, but the message hit me square between the eyes. The speaker told a story about a man whose teenage son had just died in a car crash. This kid had been the light of this man’s life. He loved his son with every ounce of his being. He was so proud of him. And now his son was gone. Taken by a reckless driver who ran a stop sign.

To put it mildly, the man was devastated.

He prayed to God as he left his dead son’s hospital room. In his sorrow and uncertainty, he collapsed into a chair in the waiting room, trying to find some measure of hope or comfort. He was angry. Angry at the world. Angry at God. And angry at that punk who ran the red light.

After a while, he realized he wasn’t alone. He noticed a young man on the other side of the waiting room with a small cut above his eye. The two began a very surface-level conversation. The older gentleman would really rather get up and go home. But he didn’t have the energy. He didn’t have the energy to move. And he most certainly didn’t have the energy to deal with the wave of heartache that awaited him in his son’s empty room. So he continued the mindless small-talk with the young man.

A life-changing realization.

The young man was in pretty bad shape. Sure, he only had a small cut over his eye, but it was apparent that he was in a lot of emotional pain. He was beating himself up over something that had happened – something he couldn’t forgive himself for. He was lost. And afraid. And alone. As they continued their mindless small-talk, the older gentleman realized who this young man was.

He was the one who ran that red light.

He was the one who killed the man’s son.

The man walked over to the younger one and sat down beside him. “I don’t know what to do,” the killer said. “Well,” the dad replied as he looked into his eyes…

“Have you ever met Jesus? Let me introduce you to him.”

And the dad shared the gospel with him that evening.

“…be kind and merciful, and forgive others, just as God forgave you because of Christ.”
Ephesians 4:32 (CEV)

I remember thinking, “Wow. I don’t know how that dad could do that. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t do that.”

More than 25 years later? I’m still pretty sure I’d have a pretty tough time doing that. I’m not so sure I’ve really grown that much in the grace and forgiveness department. I mean, I do generally forgive people. Eventually. Sometimes it takes a while, though.

I’m more like the Sons of Thunder (still)

I don’t know if that story’s really true or not. It doesn’t matter. The message is clear: a follower of Jesus should display an unnatural amount of grace. It should ooze out of our pores. Grace should lead every step that we take and should define who we are. Jesus makes that point very clear.

“For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” – Matthew 6:14 & 15

“And forgive us our debts (trespasses, sins) as we have forgiven our debtors.” – Matthew 6:12

“And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive them, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins.” – Mark 11:25

“Forgive and you will be forgiven.” – Luke 6:37b

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” – Luke 23:34

It’s easy to shout out verses like this:

“Rend your heart
and not your garments.
Return to the Lord your God,
for He is gracious and compassionate,
slow to anger and abounding in love,
and he relents from sending calamity.” – Joel 2:13 (emphasis mine)

We love sharing verses like this. Right? I know I do. Because it’s fun to share what God has done. I love singing songs like Amazing Grace and Wonderful Grace of Jesus and other songs that share the grace that Jesus freely offers.

Maybe, then, we don’t have to focus on what we have to do. Unless you’re good at theological gymnastics or a doctrinal contortionist, it’s pretty obvious that forgiveness doesn’t end with what Jesus did for us. that might just be the beginning, honestly. Forgiveness continues when we extend the same grace that was offered to us.

As someone who is trying to follow Jesus, my default setting should be to offer grace. It should be to extend mercy. I need to forgive. That should be my starting place. Jesus makes this pretty clear. Doesn’t he?

I’ll be the first to admit this: I don’t like it.

I’m a lot more like the Sons of Thunder in the New Testament. While I might not be as hot-headed as these guys, I certainly understand them. When they were wronged, they wanted to call down fire from heaven to punish their offenders.

I guess I’ve never really thought of calling fire down from heaven. If I had, there are probably instances where I would have gladly done such a thing.

Earlier this week, we were hit with our first snow of the season. It was followed by a snap of frigid temperatures. Although the roads were mostly cleared by Wednesday morning, we still had a few patches of ice. As I drove Mihret to school Wednesday morning, I was overly cautious about turning onto a relatively busy street. Any normal morning, I probably would have taken advantage of a small opening in the traffic. But this was no normal morning. I wasn’t about to risk trying to pull into traffic while potentially sitting on a small sheet of ice. That’s how accidents happen.

The person in the car behind me wasn’t having it, though. He (or she…but we’ll keep referring to the driver as “he” because I imagine it was a “he.”) decided to let me know by honking. After I didn’t move immediately after his loving tap of the horn, he honked again.

And kept honking.

I’m sure he held his horn for only 10 seconds or so. But it felt like five minutes. He was not happy that I hadn’t risked potential death by attempting to rush into traffic while sitting on a sheet of ice. And he blared his horn to let me know. Do you know what I did in response?

I put the van in park.

And I waited. I even let a few openings pass me by.

I didn’t call down fire from heaven. But that’s only because I didn’t think of it. I was determined to make the guy pay for insulting my decision making as a driver.

So there’s my stellar example of living in grace this week. Now go and do likewise.*

Josie Rinehart, November 8, 2018

A drunk driver took her family. They were on their way home from the Bands of America Grand Nationals competition in Indianapolis. The horrific incident sent shockwaves throughout southwestern Indiana and the marching band community. It also shook me to the core. Josie’s dad, David, had a huge impact on my life. He was also a major influence on many of my friends. The hole left by this senseless act ran deep and wide. I can’t even begin to imagine the impact it had on Josie herself.

I’m not going to lie. I was pretty angry at the driver. I didn’t know him. I’d never met him. But I was counting down the days to this guy getting exactly what he deserved.

The day finally came. After two years of waiting, it was time for justice to be served.

The young man had already changed his plea from not guilty to guilty. And I don’t remember anything about his sentencing because I have this image burned in my memory:

That’s Josie Rinehart right after she told the man who killed her dad, sister, and grandma that she forgave him. That’s already more than I can imagine doing. Then she hugged him.

I’ll say it again: She hugged him.

If you read her caption, she’s pretty honest. She wanted to yell and scream and be hateful. I can’t say I blame her. I’d be tempted to throw something at him. Or worse.

But Josie. She hugged him instead.

She forgave the young man who killed three of her family members. That’s a whole lot of grace. And it’s much more grace than I think I’m capable of giving.

I have a problem.

I think you’ve figured out by now that I’m pretty sure I have a grace problem. I’d wager that you do, too. It’s easy to pretend that I’m freely offering grace. “It’s OK,” I’ll say. “Not a big deal.” And instead of living out that grace in a tangible manner, I just bury things deeper down into my soul. And I keep pushing it down. And down again. Until one day I just can’t take it anymore and all of this bitterness and unforgiving spirit that I’ve allowed to fester deep within me kind of explodes everywhere. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now.

Forgiveness is hard work. It’s often uncomfortable. And there are times when it certainly doesn’t make any sense. So I choose the easy way out. I avoid the hard work on the front-end and just kick the can down the road. What I keep forgetting, however, is that cleaning up the mess left by an unmerciful, unforgiving spirit is a whole lot more hard work than just forgiving someone to begin with. But, no. I choose to nurse that bitterness in my heart. And it can have devastating consequences.

Have you been there?

I hope you haven’t. But you probably have. It’s kind of our default, “go-to” setting. I like to pretend that everything is OK and that I have moved on when I really haven’t. In short: I think I can fake grace.

Here’s the truth:

I can’t fake grace.

You can’t fake grace, either.

So why do we keep pretending? If I clam to try to follow Jesus and want to live out his teachings, why on earth do I do this? It’s completely contrary to his message.

Why do we choose to forego the messiness now when we know it’s going to be even messier later?

I don’t know the answer, but I know something needs to change. It’s time for my heart to be softened. And it’s time for my default setting to change. Maybe the same is true for you.

Brandt Jean, October 10, 2019

Brandt’s brother, Botham, was shot and killed by an off-duty police officer in his Dallas apartment. The world watched as Amber Guyger was tried for murder. The jury found her guilty and convicted her to 10 years in prison. Much has been made about the sentence, and rightfully so. It sounds woefully inadequate if you ask me.

When it came time for the victim impact statements from family and friends who loved Botham Jean, the world watched. If you’re like me, you hoped someone would pierce Guyger’s soul with their words. It only seems fitting to do whatever possible to make her feel as small as possible for what she did. You know, maybe there’d even be some fire called down from heaven. Because that’s what I’d like to see, if I’m really, truly honest with you.

Of course, that’s not what Brandt Jean did. He showed a grace that was completely contrary to all of us expected.

If you haven’t watched it, do it now. If you’ve already watched it, do it again.

I don’t know about you, but I’m a long way from this. And you probably are, too.

I have much to learn. And I really need a heart adjustment.

How about you?

Endnotes

*Don’t do that. Seriously. I typed this with my tongue firmly planted in my cheek. I’d better not hear that any of y’all put your car in park because someone wanted to hurry up and insulted your driving decision making because you didn’t want to jump out into oncoming traffic.

Bio
Latest Posts

Matt Todd

Howdy. I'm Matt. My wife, Christy, and I have four kids and two dogs, I'm passionate about orphan care. I'm a die-hard fan of the Evansville Aces, the Indiana Hoosiers, and Star Wars. I'm trying to live life by the Todd family motto: "It behooves us to live!"