The Shape of Grace
Sermon Series “Through the Bible,” № 65, Romans 12:1-2
Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect. –Romans 12:2
“Be transformed,” says Paul. Transformation can mean many things. Kalyn could tell you about the biological processes whereby a caterpillar feeding on milkweed is transformed into a butterfly. My wife Therese could tell you how introducing a particular bacteria into sugared tea creates Kombucha. Eric Voss or Mike Crider could offer a detailed explanation of how the combination of two reactants may be transformed into a new chemical compound.
Moral transformation is the particular mystery that claimed Paul’s attention as he penned the closing portion of this letter. From his point of view, moral transformation has something to do with not being conformed to prevailing cultural norms. It involves something he described as “the renewing of your minds.”
Peter Gomes was Professor of Christian Morals at Harvard Divinity School and Pastor of Harvard’s Memorial Church. He once said that if there were only one verse that could be inscribed above the door of every church in the world, then Romans 12:2 is the one he would choose. He said, “We tend to read the Bible not to be transformed, but to be confirmed in our own prejudices. It’s always amazing that when we create “god” we tend to do so in our own image, and “god” tends to share all of our convictions, particularly our political and social ones …. When you do read scripture, one of the points of Scripture is that it is meant to transform us and confront and disturb us … (but) since we have a very low tolerance for transformation, confrontation, and disturbance, we tend to domesticate the whole thing and only read those bits that work for us ….”[1]
I wondered a while about this. What is the difference between the mindset Gomes criticizes, and one he would praise? Using Paul’s words, what makes the difference between being “conformed” to the world, and being “transformed” by the renewing of our minds?
Something I read in a commentary on Romans caught my attention. It was by Paul Achtemeier, who taught Romans to master’s degree students for 25 years at Union Presbyterian Seminary in Richmond. He wrote, “Life under the Lordship of God means a life under the structuring power of grace …. Living under the power of the Spirit, and accepting the gracious Lordship of God, the Christian’s world has been made new; and the task is now to let the structuring power of grace transform that world into the shape of grace.”[2] The rest of Paul’s letter is an attempt to flesh out what that transformation – the shape of grace – will look like for the Roman Christians and their church.
For a preacher, this theological language feels refreshing. “The structuring power of grace” describes God at work in our lives. “The shape of grace” describes the new way of life that follows.
The text from Luke’s gospel shows us such a moment, I believe, in Zacchaeus’s life journey. Luke tells us he was short in stature. Bible scholars tell us a bit more about his role as a collaborator in the Roman system of taxation, and how he likely was held in contempt by many of the people with whom he interacted. But we have to use our imagination to fill in some gaps. While Jesus’ teaching no doubt was impressive, do you think an impressive public address all by itself prompted a change? Doesn’t it seem more likely that the structuring power of grace for Zacchaeus had something to do with the Jesus’ noticing him, speaking to him, sharing a meal with him, and, in at least a few concrete ways, showing Zacchaeus that he was loved?
Most of us probably have needed some help in order to experience the structuring power of grace. Someone coached us to be sensitive to God’s still, small voice, to step forward in measured ways, month by month, year after year. Someone loved us just enough to motivate us to be shaped by grace.
For years, I attended the annual Festival of Homiletics, probably America’s largest preaching conference, and actually hope to attend again next Spring. One of the least impressive preachers I ever saw enter the festival pulpit – if I were to judge by appearance, and style of delivery, and with no insult intended – was Fred Craddock. He was a country preacher from Tennessee, who eventually taught at Candler School of Theology in Atlanta. But as a skilled storyteller, many preachers would place him near the top of the list.
Once, I was sitting in the congregation when Craddock asked us to imagine a family out for a drive on a Sunday afternoon, a story which I will frame now, as he did, in the present tense. It is a pleasant day, and they relax driving at a leisurely pace. Suddenly, the children pound the seat, and say, “Daddy, stop the car! There’s a kitten back there on the side of the road!” The father says, “So there’s a kitten on the side of the road.” “But Daddy, you have to go back and pick it up.” “I don’t have to stop and pick it up.” “But Daddy, are you just going to let it die?” “Be quiet children, we’re trying to have a pleasant drive.” “We never thought our daddy would be so mean and cruel to let a kitten die.” Finally the mother turns to her husband and says, “Dear, you’ll have to stop.”
He turns the car around, and pulls off to the side of the road. “You kids stay in the car. I’ll check it out.” He goes out to pick up the kitten, just skin and bones. But when he reaches out to pick it up, with its last bit of energy the kitten bristles, barring tooth and claw. He picks it up by the nape of its neck, brings it to the car, and says, “Don’t touch it. It probably has a disease.” When they get home the children give the kitten a bath, a bowl of warm milk, and ask, “Can we let it stay in the house just tonight? The father says, “Sure, take my bedroom. This house already is a zoo.”
Several weeks pass. Then one day, the father walks in, feels something rub against his leg, and there is a cat. He reaches down toward the cat, carefully checking to see that no one is watching. When the cat sees his hand, it does not bar its claws and hiss, but arches its back to receive a caress. Is this the same cat he first met long ago? Genetically speaking, yes. But, in another sense, no, it’s not the same frightened, hurt, hissing kitten on the side of the road. Craddock says, “You know as well as I what makes the difference.”[3]
The structuring power of grace is something like that. A lot of difficult, tragic, and evil things may make us hiss in pain and anger. But, if we’re lucky, we meet people who are Christ for our world today. We feel God’s love. Week by week, month by month, we are shaped by God’s grace, and we are transformed.
NOTES
[1] Peter Gomes, “Be Transformed,” radio broadcast interview of Peter Gomes by Peter Marty, transcript published by Grace Matters: the radio ministry of the ELCA, 17 February 2008, pp. 3-4.
[2] Paul J. Achtemeier, Romans, a volume in Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, Louisville: John Knox Press, 1985, p. 195.
[3] Fred Craddock, personal note in my files, I don’t know whether or where this story has been printed.
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