A Word of Grace

Tona Herndon had every right to be angry.

She had every right to be offended.

Tona had been violated – shamelessly, unexpectedly and unconscionably violated.

There she was in the small town of Bethany, Oklahoma visiting her husband’s grave. Suddenly, without warning, a man had grabbed her pocketbook and run away.

Tona Herndon had been robbed – in a cemetery, while paying her respects to her dead husband.

If anything good could come from that incident, it’s pretty elusive.

Christian Lunsford didn’t know Tona Herndon or what had happened to her. He might have been a bit suspicious when his father, Shane, had presented him with a surprise gift of $250. Especially since his dad is an ex-con.

The 15 year-old boy might have wondered – or not.

Then Shane got arrested and charged with the crime. It broke Christian’s young heart but didn’t exactly shock him. Christian loved his dad. He also knew him.

At this point in the story you might be tempted to ask: “So what did the boy do? After all, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree”. True enough, but someone named this lad “Christian” for a reason.

He contacted Tona Herndon and arranged to meet her. The teen apologized for what his dad did. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out the $250 and handed it to Herndon. She was surprised and moved.

She thanked Christian and took the money. Then she handed it back to him.

“He gave and I received,” she said later, “and I gave and he received”.

Tona Herndon smiled. “So it worked out”.

When he led Prison Fellowship, Chuck Colson was a strong advocate for criminal restitution, arguing persuasively that it was practiced in the Old Testament under the Hebrew system of justice. Colson believed that bringing the offender face to face with his victim was the first – and most important – step toward true justice; what he called restorative justice.

The ultimate objective of biblical justice is reconciliation – shalom – peace.

In the case of Christian Lansford and Tona Herndon, a young man intervened on behalf of another whom he loved. Though he had done no wrong, Christian pursued forgiveness and reconciliation in the place of his father and on his behalf.

Tona would have been within her rights to keep the money as at least a partial payment for what had been done to her. After all, the money was hers. She had been assaulted by a robber.

This was only just.

Instead, Tona responded not with justice but with mercy and kindness. She had received the payment. She was satisfied. Then she generously returned it to the son of her offender.

This was an act of grace.

It was an expression of forgiveness; it was a symbol of reconciliation.

It has been well said that in God’s economy, justice is getting what we deserve, mercy is not getting what we deserve, and grace is getting what we don’t deserve. If we all realized this more, we’d be less judgmental of others and more grateful for God’s patience with us.

We’d be less harsh in our condemnations and more honest in our confessions.

On the cross, Jesus intervened on our behalf. He did so because of his love – and his Father’s. We were the ones who had sinned. We were the ones who had so grievously violated God’s law and his justice and holiness. Jesus had done nothing wrong but he stood in our place and paid the price we owed.

This was death. It’s what we deserved.

God responded by forgiving us, cleansing us and saving us – and by giving us eternal life.

This was grace. It’s what we didn’t deserve.

Paul explained it to the Romans:

“Therefore, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us” (Romans 5: 1, NLT, emphasis added).

Jesus did this “for us”.

God was merciful. We didn’t get what we deserved.

He did this for you and for me, in all of our presumption, and all of our arrogance; in all of our self-congratulatory self-righteousness – in all of our hopeless and pitiful “filthy rags”.

Yet, “because of our faith, Christ has brought us into this place of undeserved privilege where we now stand …” (verse 2, NLT, emphasis added).

The King James Version states it in simple eloquence:

“By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand …”

By God’s grace we stand. By his grace we live. By his grace we are forgiven. By God’s grace – and by his grace alone – “we rejoice in hope of the glory of God” (verse 2, KJV).

Without this grace we would have no joy. We would have no hope. Without it we would perish.

You and I have been reconciled to God – the chosen recipients of his matchless and amazing grace. How much now should we, just like Tona Herndon, be the dispensers of grace to those around us?

He gave and we have received. We must give that others may receive.

When we do, we’ll discover that “it works out”.

It all began with a poem.

Lynda Frederick, who lives in New York, wrote it and posted it on her old high school’s Facebook page. The poem spoke of Lynda’s sad and tormented experiences being bullied by her classmates.

She also wanted everyone to know that life had gotten a whole lot better for her over the intervening 25 years.

Lynda wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

Her Facebook post was flooded with heartfelt apologies from her onetime bullies. They begged her for the chance to make the past right. And they did more than that. They also raised $800 in order to bring her to California for a class reunion.

Moved by the reach for reconciliation, Lynda was reflective. “We can’t fix yesterday,” she observed, “but we can try to fix today.”

While the past cannot be undone, it can be redressed.

Reconciliation begins with forgiveness – that sweetest and most profound of virtues.

In his model prayer, Jesus urges us to seek God’s forgiveness for our offences and in the same manner to extend forgiveness to those who have offended us. Jesus goes so far as to assert that God will not forgive us if we refuse to forgive others. [Matthew 6:15].

Neither Jacob nor his brother Esau could “fix” the many years of deceit, treachery and rivalry that had marred their relationship. What was done was done. But when they finally met again, “Esau ran to meet [Jacob], threw his arms around his neck, and kissed him. And they both wept” [Genesis 33:4, NLT].

The tears of forgiveness melted away the frozen bitterness of wounded pride and lost opportunities.

His brothers feared his power to retaliate, but Joseph was overcome by a deep and compassionate forgiveness for them. He was led by a love that never died despite the long separation caused by their betrayal. Nothing in his fascinating and eventful life tells us more about Joseph’s abiding character than his willingness to forgive his brothers for what they did to him.

How could Jesus ever forgive that disciple who had pledged loyalty to the death and then in the crisis denied three times he even knew the Savior? There is hope for each of us in those moving and powerful words of the angel:

“But go, tell his disciples, even Peter, that he is going ahead of you into Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you” (Mark 16:7, NET, emphasis added).

Yes, even Peter – even you and even me.

Forgiveness is the sincerest form of love.

It’s often the costliest and most difficult. But an unforgiving spirit has no place in the believer’s life. It is flagrantly unhealthy. Holding a grudge is not only a sub-Christian attitude – it’s an emotional grind.

Over time, such poison in your system will weaken your spiritual constitution and make you vulnerable to other diseases of the soul such as vengeance, gossip and envy.

An unforgiving spirit is a moral and spiritual cancer. It may begin small and undetected, but it grows inexorably and spreads until it has consumed the heart with cynicism and malice. Only when unforgiveness is cut away by the scalpel of God’s grace and transplanted with genuine, Christ-centered forgiveness can new life breathe into the soul. Only then can love be rekindled, hope renewed and joy restored.

This is why Jesus ties forgiveness to the very heart of worship.

“So if you are presenting a sacrifice at the altar in the Temple,” he says, “and you suddenly remember that someone has something against you, leave your sacrifice there at the altar. Go and be reconciled to that person. Then come and offer your sacrifice to God.” [Mathew 5: 23-24, NLT].

We must put first things first.

Jesus tells us that the first order of spiritual business for each of us is forgiveness and reconciliation. Even if we are already sitting in the church pew and about to drop our offering in the plate, if we recall the slight that hurt, we must stop and go and seek forgiveness.

Reconciliation precedes worship and authentic worship is conditioned upon forgiveness – and virtually impossible without it.

Paul tells the Ephesians to flush the bad attitudes and rotten behavior out of their lives. “Instead, be kind to each other, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.” [Ephesians 4: 32, NLT].

For Lynda Frederick, it was a poem that led to forgiveness, reconciliation and a new lease on life she hadn’t expected.

Perhaps the past was gone and forever shrouded in regrets. But Lynda’s old classmates proved that seeking, offering and finding forgiveness can turn a class reunion into something far grander and more lasting than the petty cruelties of a high school hallway.

Forgiveness – what a beautiful thing.

He detested typewriters.

He wrote all his personal correspondence – and it was extensive – with a pen. He believed the noise of a typewriter interfered with the flow of creative thought.

His brother later typed his letters, being the only one who could decipher the scrawled handwriting.

This particular letter on this day required thoughtful attention. It was the reply to a young girl named Ruth Broady. Ruth had written to say how much she enjoyed his books.

He smiled at the affirmation. He loved children as much as he hated typewriters. Taking pen carefully in hand, he wrote the date in the upper corner: 26 October, 1963.

“Many thanks for your kind letter, and it was very good of you to write and tell me that you like my books; and what a very good letter you write for your age!”

He paused for just a moment. Then he wrote:

“If you continue to love Jesus, nothing much can go wrong with you, and I hope you may always do so.”

Then he paused again. This next part would be interesting:

“I’m so thankful that you realized the ‘hidden story’ in the Narnian books. It is odd, children nearly always do, grownups hardly ever”.

The Chronicles of Narnia, one of the greatest pieces of children’s literature ever written, was sometimes attacked by academics as racist. Others assailed it as sexist. Everyone had an opinion; everyone had an interpretation.

The scholars thought they knew. This work of allegorical fantasy was examined and analyzed from various perspectives and prejudicial mindsets in search of supposed underlying cultural themes.

In the end, CS Lewis knew that children would get it.

They would embrace it in its purity and creative beauty. They would accept it and enjoy it for the wonderful and imaginative story it is.

Children would cast no cynical judgment on the work nor offer any smug critiques. They would perceive “the hidden story” that “grownups hardly ever” recognized.

What Lewis appreciated about children is what Jesus also celebrated.

Jesus attached great importance to child-like faith.

When his disciples got into an argument about who would be the greatest in the kingdom of heaven – a childish preoccupation typical of adults – Jesus stopped them and startled them.

“And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them” (Matthew 18:2, KJV). Jesus didn’t want these arguing grownups to miss “the hidden story” and so he brought it center stage.

Jesus looked at the little boy and smiled. He caressed the lad’s tousled hair. And he held him tenderly in his arms.

Then Jesus looked at his disciples – the men who would be the first leaders of his church.

“Except ye be converted and become as little children,” he told them, “ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3, KJV).

How often have men and women missed the profound simplicity of the Gospel because they’ve refused to believe it could be that uncomplicated? They’ve wanted to add to it, analyze it and work for it. Anything but simply accept it as God’s free gift.

That’s too easy. Nothing this important could be that simple.

People remain blinded by their sophistication and cynicism; by their success, their money and their power; by their intellect, the approval of their peers or political correctness.

Saddled by skepticism, they miss the “hidden story” of God’s great love. They fail to “become as little children” and so never enter the kingdom of heaven.

They miss it.

When the disciples scolded parents for bringing their children to Jesus to be blessed by him because they thought it was a distraction, Jesus brought them up short.

“When Jesus saw what was happening, he was angry with his disciples” (Mark 10:14, NLT). These men had a lot to learn about children and the Kingdom of God and this was another teachable moment.

“Let the children come to me,” Jesus told them. “Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children” (vs. 14, emphasis added).

Then Jesus said:

“I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it” (vs. 15, emphasis added).

Jesus gathered these little boys and girls lovingly into his arms; he hugged them and put his hands on their heads and blessed them.

Children are humble, transparent, trusting, affectionate and unaffected. Many lose these qualities as adults. When they do, the kingdom of God grows more distant.

The true Christian is one who has not lost the child’s heart.

Pray that you may always be child-like in your love and faith. Yes, there’s perhaps good cause for cynicism today but don’t let it overtake you.

“I’m afraid the Narnian series has come to an end,” Lewis wrote in closing his letter to Ruth Broady, “and am sorry to tell you that you can expect no more.

God bless you”.

It was one of his last letters.

Less than a month later, CS Lewis, who never lost his child’s heart and never stopped loving Jesus, walked through the Gates of Splendor.

He entered a heavenly kingdom more glorious, more beautiful, more colorful and more creative than even he could ever have imagined.

It was illegal but still done.

You wanted to find a good used car at a reasonable price.

You asked the owner if those incredibly low miles were original.

“Yes, as far as I know”, was the reply.

If a car looked like a low-mileage vehicle, it was fairly easy to make the mileage match the appearance. The odometer could simply be turned back. Thousands of recorded miles would vanish in as much time as it took to say “crooked”.

The automobile – more worn than the unsuspecting buyer would ever know – had suddenly been given a new lease on life by a dishonest dealer.

It might be nice if the years of our lives were like the odometer on a used car.

They’re not.

Time can never be set back to something more preferable and enjoyable – more in keeping with the age we feel and want to be. Regardless of how we feel – or look – time only marches forward. To strive to appear younger than we really are – and billions are spent on that every year – makes us feel better about ourselves and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look more attractive. And since God gave us our bodies as precious gifts – and the temple of his Holy Spirit – we are responsible to God to take care of our health.

There are products which give us energy and soothe our aches and pains; others take away the gray hair and the wrinkles. But regardless of what we spend or do, the mistake would be in deceiving ourselves.

There’s no turning back the years.

My own odometer rolled over last week. I’m another year older.

When I see the doctor for my physical he won’t give me a pill or injection that will miraculously make me forty again. Medicine’s come a long way – it will never go that far. When I leave that office my aging body will go with me.

And speaking of self-deception, I must stop thinking of myself as middle-aged; people don’t live to be 130.

I got a nice birthday card from my dear Aunt Bunny. She still lives on beautiful Deer Isle, Maine, where my mother was born and my ancestors are buried. Aunt Bunny is 83. She penned a note in the card about the day I was born:

“I’ll always remember May 15th! I was grocery shopping with your mother. She left me to finish shopping, because she was in labor. Stan [a dear family friend in whose honor I bear my middle name] came back to get me. The years sure do go by fast, don’t they?”

Yes, Aunt Bunny they sure do.

And once they’re gone, they never come back.

My mother, who now remembers nothing about that day – or me – once told me that she was nervous the night Dr. Gibson came in to deliver me. He was upset about the outcome of the world heavyweight boxing championship and she feared he might be distracted.

Rocky Marciano, in a Chicago rematch, had just knocked out Jersey Joe Walcott in the first round. Not much of a fight and Dr. Gibson felt cheated. But I came out just fine.

Dwight Eisenhower was a mere four months into his presidency.

“The years sure do go by fast, don’t they?”

Yes, “swifter than a weaver’s shuttle” Job tells us (Job 7:6).

When it comes to our time on this earth, the transcendent, recurring themes in the Bible are brevity and uncertainty. The metaphors are fleeting: a shadow, a mist, a tale that is told, the morning grass, clouds, spilt water on the ground, sailing ships and eagles in the sky, flowers of the field and a handbreadth.

Dust and clay.

“We all do fade as a leaf” (Isaiah 64:6, KJV).

God wants to make sure we get that – in all of its implications for how we choose to live our brief intervals between the massive eternities of the past and the future.

“Time, like an ever rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.”

But wait!

As great a hymn as it is, the Apostle Paul refuses to let Isaac Watts have the final word.

There is, Paul asserts in his second letter to the Corinthians, the rest of the story.

And it makes all the difference in how we see our own mortality.

“That is why we never give up,” Paul writes. “Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day” (II Corinthians 4:16, NLT).

You and I will age and “perish” (KJV) physically, every one of us, but the most important part of us – our very souls – are, through the power of Jesus Christ, basking in eternal youth.

“For we know that when this earthly tent we live in is taken down – when we die and leave these bodies – we will have a home in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God himself and not by human hands” (II Corinthians 5:1, NLT).

Mortality and eternity have struggled.

Eternity’s won.

Forget the odometer.

Someday you are I will be in brand new showroom condition.

Forever.

The sky had been blue, the lake calm.

These men knew the water, loved it, and had made their living from it since childhood.

Now, as the sun began to set across the beautiful azure sea, he said to the men, “Let’s cross to the other side.”

The crowds had been large and attentive but his relentless teaching had taken its toll.

Jesus was tired.

When he told the disciples to come with him into the boat to cross over, they understood and obeyed. It wasn’t long after they launched that Jesus took a pillow, climbed to the stern and fell asleep.

Mark tells us in his account of this incident that very suddenly and without warning a fierce storm swept down across the Sea of Galilee. The sea is small – more like a lake. It is surrounded by hills, especially to the east, that rise in some places 2,000 feet. These mountains are the source of dry, cool air. In contrast, the climate around the sea itself is almost tropical; warm and moist.

This can create strong winds that quickly descend upon the water to the center of the lake like a giant funnel. The result is a violent and dangerous storm.

In a small boat is not where you want to be.

The disciples were seasoned fishermen but this storm had taken them by surprise and was threatening their lives. The huge squall sent high waves crashing over the boat. The ferocious winds lashed the rain hard across their faces until they were nearly blinded by it.

The boat was taking in water – a lot of it. Their hearts pounded with fear. And where was Jesus? Awake? Worried?

No.

Mark says he was in the back of the boat, “asleep on a pillow” (Mark 4:38, KJV). In the midst of this storm, surrounded by the violence of the natural world and men scared out of their wits, the Savior of the world was … sleeping!

Some folks can sleep through anything. Jesus apparently was one of them.

These men were in this desperate situation because the man now sleeping had told them to get into this boat. They had obeyed their Lord’s command and done his will.

And now here they were – and here he was.

Christians may be tempted to think that as long as they are living good lives in accordance with God’s word and purpose, he will protect them from all danger and difficulty. This is not so. As quickly as these men found themselves in the midst of a severe storm, our lives can turn from peace to trouble without a moment’s notice.

If you’ve been a Christian for very long then you know this is true.

The disciples obeyed but they were still in trouble – “in this world.” If our best life is now then we are, as Paul told the Corinthians, most to be pitied.

In their desperation, powerless to change circumstances beyond their control, these men turned to Jesus.

Hundreds of years ago, when believers faced cultural and religion storms that buffeted their new faith, the future martyr Savonarola preached in the great Cathedral of Florence.

“Sirs,” he told his congregation, “the light of faith is being extinguished; the soul of the Church is perishing. The ark of the Lord is going under. The billows of unbelief are going over her. The waves of trouble are swamping her … Sirs,” he cried, “what are we do to do? What can we do?”

Then in a thunderous chorus that shook the stately edifice and signaled the coming Reformation, the crowd shouted, “Wake Christ! Wake Christ!”

And so the disciples did. They roused the Savior from his slumber with a question:

“Teacher, don’t you even care that we are all about to drown?” (Mark 4:38, NLT).

“Master, carest thou not that we perish?” (KJV).

“Carest thou not?”

This was the first concern these terrified men had.

Is it not ours? In our despondency, discouragement and fear, the devil whispers to our heart that God doesn’t care.

Our nation and the world are in great crisis.

“Carest thou not?”

You don’t know when or from where your next job is coming.

“Carest thou not?”

You’ve prayed for years for your unsaved family to believe in Christ.

“Carest thou not?”

You’ve struggled with illness; perhaps you son or daughter is in the grip of drug addiction; maybe your marriage is on the rocks.

“Carest thou not that we perish?”

Jesus stood up and “rebuked the wind and said unto the sea, ‘Peace, be still’” (verse 39, KJV).

And suddenly there was a great calm.

“Why are you so fearful?” Jesus asked them. “How is it that you have no faith?” (verse 40, NKJV).

Oh yes, he cares. Do you believe that he does?

Is it not enough that Jesus was in the boat with his disciples? That he was present in their storm? Would this boat – or any boat – sink with Jesus in it?

We shall not perish in the presence of Christ – no matter the fierceness of our storm.

What was Jesus doing? Strengthening the disciples’ faith with his power and comforting their fear with his presence.

He did that in their storm.

He does the same in ours.