“Grace” is a word I use almost every day. I preach it to
myself and teach it to my kids. I memorize Bible verses about it and tape them
to my walls. I read books about it and sing songs about it. But I still think
it’s a hard concept to explain. It’s best described by metaphors and word
pictures and stories. I was especially affected by the one I heard during this
week’s church sermon.
A student was signed up for a class that she knew she would
fail. Distraught over the thought of certain failure, she asked her dad to
accompany her to the teacher’s office to see if she could drop the class. Together
they pleaded their case to the teacher. He stopped them midway through and
said, “What if I guarantee you, right now, that you will get an A in the class?
No matter what you do, the A is yours.” Of course that changed everything for
the girl. With the teacher’s guarantee, she not only survived the class, but
she was hugely successful in it. His promise brought out the very best in her.
In the classroom of life, God guarantees an A to all who
call upon the name of Jesus (Romans 10:13). You can’t earn your way into heaven, buy your
way into heaven, or hope your way into heaven. The grace of God—giving us not
what we deserve but what we need—is the only ticket we have. And it’s
guaranteed.
Just like the girl in the story, knowing we’ve got the A
already, that there’s nothing we can do to make the grade any better or any
worse, frees us up to be the best we can be—the people we were made to be. For
me, the key word in that sentence is “be.” No matter how deeply I think I’ve grasped
the concept of grace, I still feel like there’s more I should be doing. God is
not so concerned with my doing. It’s my being that He’s interested in. He’s not
looking for my great acts of service, ready to up my grade when I complete them
or flunk me when I fail or just stall out. I can’t impress God with what I do.
I can only take Him up on His gift of grace and cultivate a “being” heart, one
that is loving, humble, faithful, obedient.
The A is mine. Will I live like it? Will you?
