Grace

John La Farge, Visit of Nicodemus to Christ, 1880, oil on canvas, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C., public domain, click to link.

Sermon Series “Through the Bible,” № 57.

Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. – John 3:17

In our journey through the Bible, we move to the fourth book of the New Testament, the Gospel of John.  Bible scholars emphasize how different John is from the three previous gospels. John was either unaware of the other gospels, or purposely omitted much of the information they share: Jesus’ temptation and transfiguration, the sermon on the mount and the Lord’s Prayer, and more. While John records Jesus using richly descriptive metaphors like the vine and the branches, he records no parables. But John does give attention to other matters that the first three gospels ignore. The events of Jesus’ early ministry recorded in chapters 2-4 are not mentioned in the other gospels. The extended Farewell Discourse, in chapters 13-17, takes up about 20% of the entire book, and is unique to John.

How do we make sense of these differences between John and the other gospel writers? Some say that the earlier gospel writers displayed a descriptive style. John, writing with the benefit of 25-40 additional years, offered a more reflective version of how Jesus changed everything. Matthew, Mark, and Luke were interested in recording Jesus’ history, while John was more interested in the meaning of Jesus’ history.

In our Protestant Reformed theological tradition, one of the chief texts we highlight to proclaim the meaning of Jesus’ history is today’s gospel reading. In context, it records the end of Jesus’ response to Nicodemus. Jesus had explained to Nicodemus that citizenship in the kingdom of God wasn’t just a matter of Jewish heritage. Physical birth is one thing, and spiritual birth is another.

In effect, John draws an equals-sign between spiritual birth and belief in Jesus, particularly belief in his sacrificial death to atone for sins. There are many ways to describe what spiritual birth looks and feels like, and one word often used is “grace.” The Greek form of the word – “charis” – appears about 130 times in the New Testament. Long ago, I learned a definition formed as an acrostic from the letters in “grace,” “God’s riches at Christ’s expense.” The simplest definition I know is “undeserved favor.”

Therese and I recently returned from a couple weeks in Europe, and our travels almost always give us a few opportunities to experience grace. We’ve learned to enjoy traveling with a public transportation pass to see just how far we can go and how much we can see for a minimal expense. At some level, we draw inspiration from the TV reality show, “The Amazing Race,” which, next month, begins its 35th season. If you’ve never seen it, teams composed of two people travel around the world, competing to complete various challenges and legs of the race faster than the other teams. Typically, the last team to complete each leg of the race incurs a penalty, perhaps even elimination from the race.

There’s a lot of emotional drama underneath the actual activity of racing. Sometimes, the members of the team are marriage partners trying to maintain or renew their relationship. Sometimes, they’re aging athletes trying to prove they still have what it takes to be competitive. Sometimes, they’re people with a special life experience who are trying to boost awareness or improve understanding of a cause near and dear to their hearts.

Inevitably, teams make costly mistakes. One will misread a clue, and go miles and hours in the wrong direction. Another will engage in a grueling physical challenge that proves too exhausting. Then, you’ll see them running, sweaty, muddy, or even bloody to the end of their journey, and hear the host of the show say, “I’m sorry to tell you that you are the last team to arrive.”

Sometimes, though, that’s not the final word. The game has built in certain pre-determined legs at which the last team to arrive is allowed to continue the race. Sometimes, after a word of judgment, the last team to arrive hears something like, “I’m pleased to tell you that this is a non-elimination leg,” and you will not be leaving the race.” Every time I’ve heard those words, the team reacts with smiles, sighs of relief, even tears of joy.

Most of us can relate to that feeling. At one time or another, we have been racing through life, trying to make the right decisions and accomplish important things. One day, we look around, and realize we’re at the back of the pack. We incorrectly evaluated the circumstances; we arrived at the wrong conclusion. In a panic, we’re backtracking to where we think we ought to be, and we’re late getting there. Then, if we are very lucky, we are surprised by the good news that we are going to get another chance.

Grace is like that. It’s knowing that you should have been eliminated, but weren’t.

Reinhold Niebuhr, one of the great theologians of the 20th century, explained to his readers that the word “grace” has a double meaning in the New Testament. On the one hand, it represents the mercy and forgiveness of God; on the other hand, it represents the power of God in humans.[1] Our text from Ephesians – originally part of a first century baptismal liturgy – contains reminders of this duality. Verse eight is about the first part – the mercy and forgiveness of God. Verse ten is about the second part – the power of God in Christ’s disciples. The ones to whom grace has been extended are called to live out their baptism through works in which they, in turn, extend God’s grace to others.

Those of us who participated in Thursday’s meeting of our regional presbytery glimpsed what this may look like. To summarize the primary item of business as briefly as I possibly can, about one year ago our presbytery led a general assembly action to apologize for our nation’s sin of slavery and to repair the lasting breach of racism. In the wake of approval, there were lingering questions about what it meant “to repair the lasting breach,” and what reparations would look like. At our meeting, the presbytery leader reviewed some past actions of the presbytery that he believes placed one of our primarily African-American congregations at a disadvantage in ways that seem to many people unfair and unjust. So, at the meeting two proposals were considered and approved to make financial reparations. The first action authorized eliminating the remaining loan debt of the congregation by transferring responsibility to the presbytery. The second action authorized returning to the congregation all the principal and interest paid on its loans during the past 17 years. All totaled, the financial reparations to the congregation amount to $718,884, to be paid from the reserves of our presbytery.

The business of a presbytery is difficult to process, and, as I preached during my term as moderator, we pray that God is somehow with us in the midst of the messiness. There are aspects of this action that may be criticized, depending upon an individual’s perspective.

Looking around the room after the two-part vote, it would be impossible not to notice the small contingent from Third Presbyterian Church locked in a group hug, the sobs of relief, and the tears of joy. I don’t know how these approved actions will be embodied, and I don’t understand the implications for the health and future of our presbytery. But for some people present Thursday night, this is what it looks like when the grace we have received from God is extended to others. Sometimes we experience grace as life-changing mercy and forgiveness. And sometimes we experience grace as the power of God within us, enabling us to be Christ’s agents of healing and peace in ways we never imagined possible.

On the issue of financial reparations for the sin of racism, it’s to be expected that Presbyterians will stand on either side, some of us pro and some of us con.  In living through similar conflicts and debates, I’ve often wondered whether God cares less about the precise details of of our resolutions and actions, and more about the spirit of the debate and how we treat one another along the way.I find myself coming back again and again to the words of St. Francis. His prayer is mine, and, I hope, may be yours, too:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy. O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

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