Grace of God Brings Blessings
The passages below are taken from Max Lucado’s book “In the Grip of Grace,” published in 1996 by W Publishing Group.
Since we have been made right with God by our faith, we have peace with God. This happened through our Lord Jesus Christ, who has brought us into that blessing of God’s grace that we now enjoy. We are happy because of the hope we have of sharing God’s glory. Romans 5:1—2(NCV)
Batters hustling to the plate to take their swings? Questionable calls going uncontested? Umpires being thanked after the game? Fans returning foul balls?
This is Major League Baseball?
It was. For a few weeks during the spring of ‘95, professional baseball was a different game. The million-dollar arms were at home. The Cadillac bats were in the rack. The contracted players were negotiating for more money. The owners, determined to start the season, threw open the gates to almost anybody who knew how to scoop a grounder or run out a bunt.
These weren’t minor-leaguers. The minor leagues were also on strike. These were fellows who went from coaching Little League one week to wearing a Red Sox uniform the next.
The games weren’t fancy, mind you. Line drives rarely reached the outfield. One manager said his pitchers threw the ball so slowly the radar gun couldn’t clock them. A fan could shell a dozen peanuts in the time it took to relay a throw from the outfield. The players huffed and puffed more than the “Little Engine That Could.”
But, my, did the players have fun! The diamond was studded with guys who played the game for the love of the game. When the coach said run, they ran. When he needed a volunteer to shag flies, a dozen hands went up. They arrived before the park was open, greasing their gloves and cleaning their cleats. When it was time to go home they stayed until the ground's crew ran them off. They thanked the attendants for washing their uniforms. They thanked the caterers for the food. They thanked the fans for paying the dollar to watch. The line of players willing to sign autographs was longer than the line of fans wanting them.
These guys didn’t see themselves as a blessing to baseball but baseball as a blessing to them. They didn’t expect luxury; they were surprised by it. They didn’t demand more playtime; they were thrilled to play at all.
It was baseball again
In Cincinnati the general manager stepped out on the field and applauded the fans for coming out. The Phillies gave away free hot dogs and sodas. In the trade of the year, the Cleveland Indians gave five players to the Cincinnati Reds---for free!
It wasn’t classy. You missed the three-run homers and frozen-rope pick-offs. But that was forgiven for the pure joy of seeing some guys play who really enjoyed the game. What made them so special? Simple. They were living a life they didn’t deserve. These guys didn’t make it to the big leagues on skill; they made it on luck. They weren’t picked because they were good; they were picked because they were willing.
And they knew it! Not one time did you read an article about the replacement players arguing over poor pay. I did read a story about a fellow who offered a hundred grand if some owners would sign him. There was no jockeying for position. No second-guessing the management. No strikes. No lockouts or walkouts. Heavens, these guys didn’t even complain that their names weren’t stitched on the jerseys. They were just happy to be on the team.
Shouldn’t we be, as well? Aren’t we a lot like these players? If the first four chapters of Romans tell us anything, they tell us we are living a life we don’t deserve. We aren’t good enough to get picked, but look at us, suited up and ready to play! We aren’t skilful enough to make the community softball league, but our names are on the greatest roster of history!
Do we deserve to be here? No. But would we trade the privilege? Not for the world. For if Paul’s proclamation is true, God’s grace has placed us on a dream team beyond imagination. Our past is pardoned, and our future secure. And lest we forget this unspeakable gift, Paul itemizes the blessings that God’s grace brings into our world (see Romans 5:1—12 NCV).
Blessing #1: We Have Peace with God
“Since we have been made right with God by our faith, we have peace with God” (v. i).
Peace with God. What a happy consequence of faith! Not just peace between countries, peace between neighbors, or peace at home; salvation brings peace with God.
Once a monk and his apprentice traveled from the abbey to a nearby village. The two parted at the city gates, agreeing to meet the next morning after completing their tasks. According to plan, they met and began the long walk back to the abbey. The monk noticed that the younger man was unusually quiet. He asked him if anything was wrong. “What business is it of yours?” came the terse response.
Now the monk was sure his brother was troubled, but he said nothing. The distance between the two began to increase. The apprentice walked slowly, as if to separate himself from his teacher. When the abbey came in sight, the monk stopped at the gate and waited on the student. “Tell me, my son. What troubles your soul?“
The boy started to react again, but when he saw the warmth in his master’s eyes, his heart began to melt. “I have sinned greatly,” he sobbed. “Last night I slept with a woman and abandoned my vows. I am not worthy to enter the abbey at your side.”
The teacher put his arm around the student and said, “We will enter the abbey together. And we will enter the cathedral together. And together we will confess your sin. No one but God will know which of the two of us fell.”1
Doesn’t that describe what God has done for us? When we kept our sin silent, we withdrew from him. We saw him as an enemy. We took steps to avoid his presence. But our confession of faults alters our perception. God is no longer a foe but a friend. We are at peace with him. He did more than the monk did, much more. More than share in our sin, Jesus was “crushed for the evil we did. The punishment, which made us well, was given to him” (Isaiah. 53:5 NCV). “He accepted the shame” (Heb. 12:2 NCV) He leads us into the presence of God.
Blessing #2: We Have a Place with God
Being ushered into God’s presence is the second blessing Paul describes: “This happened through our Lord Jesus Christ, who has brought us into that blessing of God’s grace that we now enjoy” (v. 2). Look at the phrase, “who has brought us into.” The Greek word means “to usher into the presence of royalty.” Twice in Ephesians Paul reminds us of our right to enter God’s presence:
It is through Christ that all of us are able to come into the presence of the Father. (Ephesians 2:18 TEV)
Now we can come fearlessly right into God’s presence.
(Ephesians 3:12 TLV)
Christ meets you outside the throne room, takes you by the hand, and walks you into the presence of God. Upon entrance we find grace, not condemnation; mercy, not punishment. Where we would never be granted an audience with the king, we are now welcomed into his presence.
If you are a parent you understand this. If a child you don’t know appears on your doorstep and asks to spend the night, what would you do? Likely you would ask him his name, where he lives, find out why he is roaming the streets, and contact his parents. On the other hand, if a youngster enters your house escorted by your child, that child is welcome. The same is true with God. By becoming friends with the Son we gain access to the Father.
Jesus promised, “All who stand before others and say they believe in me, I will say before my Father in heaven that they belong to me” (Matthew 10:32 NCV). Because we are friends of his Son, we have entrance to the throne room. He ushers us into that “blessing of God’s grace that we now enjoy” (Romans 5:2 NCV).
This gift is not an occasional visit before God but rather a permanent “access by faith into this grace by which we now stand” (v. 2 NIV). Here is where my analogy with the replacement baseball players ceases. They knew their status was temporary. Their privilege lasted only as long as the strike continued. Not so with us. Our privilege lasts as long as God is faithful, and his faithfulness has never been questioned. “If we are not faithful, he will still be faithful, because he cannot be false to himself” (2 Timothy 2:13 NCV). Isaiah described God’s faithfulness as the “belt around his waist” (Isaiah 11:5 NCV). David announces that the Lord’s faithfulness “reaches to the heavens” (Psalms 36:5 NCV).
I suppose the baseball analogy would work if the team owner conferred upon us the status of lifetime team members. Upon doing so our position on the squad would not depend upon our performance but upon his power. Has an owner ever given such a gift? I don’t know, but God has and God does.
Before moving on, note the sequence of these blessings. The first blessing deals with our past; we have peace with God because our past is pardoned. The second blessing deals with the present. We have a place with God because Jesus has presented us to his Father. Any guess what the next blessing will cover?
Blessing #3: We Share in His Glory
You got it: our future. “And we are happy because of the hope we have of sharing God’s glory” (Romans 5:2 NCV).
Because of God’s grace we go from being people whose “throats are like open graves” (Psalms 5:9 NCV) to being participants of God’s glory. We were washed up and put out; now we are called up and put in.
What does it mean to share in God’s glory? May I devote a chapter to that question? (Why am I asking you? The book’s already written.) Come with me from the world of baseball and replacement players to a scene of a king and a cripple. You’ll understand what I mean in a few pages.
But God shows his great love for us in this way: Christ died for us while we were still sinners. ROMANS 5:8 NCV
Warning: The content of this chapter is likely to cause hunger. You might want to read it in the kitchen.
My first ministry position was in Miami, Florida. In our congregation we had more than our share of southern ladies who loved to cook. I fit in well because I was a single guy who loved to eat. The church was fond of having Sunday evening potluck dinners, and about once a quarter they feasted.
Some church dinners live up to the “potluck” name. The cooks empty the pot, and you try your luck. Not so with this church. Our potlucks were major events. Area grocery stores asked us to advise them in advance so they could stock their shelves. Cookbook sales went up. People never before seen in the pews could be found in the food line. For the women it was an unofficial cook-off, and for the men it was an unabashed pig-out.
My, it was good, a veritable cornucopia of Corningware. Juicy ham bathed in pineapple, baked beans, pickled relish, pecan pie. . . (Oops, I just drooled on my computer keyboard.) Ever wondered why there are so many hefty preachers? You enter the ministry for meals like those.
As a bachelor I counted on potluck dinners for my survival strategy. While others were planning what to cook, I was studying the storage techniques of camels. Knowing I should bring something, I’d make it a point to raid my kitchen shelves on Sunday afternoon. The result was pitiful: One time I took a half-empty jar of Planters peanuts; another time I made a half-dozen jelly sandwiches. One of my better offerings was an unopened sack of chips; a more meager gift was a can of tomato soup, also unopened.
Wasn’t much, but no one ever complained. In fact, the way those ladies acted, you would’ve thought I brought the Thanksgiving turkey. They’d take my jar of peanuts and set it on the long table with the rest of the food and hand me a plate. “Go ahead, Max, don’t be bashful. Fill up your plate.” And I would! Mashed potatoes and gravy. Roast beef. Fried chicken. I took a little bit of everything, except the peanuts.
I came like a pauper and ate like a king!
Though Paul never attended a potluck, he would have loved the symbolism. He would say that Christ does for us precisely what those women did for me. He welcomes us to his table by virtue of his love and our request. It is not our offerings that grant us a place at the feast; indeed, anything we bring appears puny at his table. Our admission of hunger is the only demand, for “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled” (Matthew 5:6 NKJV).
Our hunger, then, is not a yearning to be avoided but rather a God-given desire to be heeded. Our weakness is not to be dismissed but to be confessed. Isn’t this at the heart of Paul’s words when he writes, “When we were unable to help ourselves, at the moment of our need, Christ died for us, although we were living against God. Very few people will die to save the life of someone else. Although perhaps for a good person someone might possibly die. But God shows his great love for us in this way: Christ died for us while we were still sinners” (Romans 5:6—8).
The Portrait of a Pauper
Paul’s portrait of us is not attractive. We were “unable to help ourselves,” “living against God,” “sinners,” and “God’s enemies” (Romans 5:6, 8, 10 NCV). Such are the people for whom God died.
Family therapist Paul Faulkner tells of the man who set out to adopt a troubled teenage girl. One would question the father’s logic. The girl was destructive, disobedient, and dishonest. One day she came home from school and ransacked the house looking for money. By the time he arrived, she was gone and the house was in shambles.
Upon hearing of her actions, friends urged him not to finalize the adoption. “Let her go,” they said. “After all, she’s not really your daughter.” His response was simply. “Yes, I know. But I told her she was.”2
God, too, has made a covenant to adopt his people. His covenant is not invalidated by our rebellion. It’s one thing to love us when we are strong, obedient, and willing. But when we ransack his house and steal what is his? This is the test of love. And God passes the test. “God shows his great love for us in this way: Christ died for us while we were still sinners” (v 5:8).
The ladies at our church didn’t see me and my peanuts and say, “Come back when you’ve learned to cook.”
The father didn’t look at the wrecked house and say, “Come back when you’ve learned respect.”
God didn’t look at our frazzled lives and say, “I’ll die for you when you deserve it.”
Nor did David look at Mephibosheth and say, “I’ll rescue you when you’ve learned to walk.”
Mephibo-what?
Mephibosheth. When you hear his story you’ll see why I mention his name. Blow the dust off the books of 1 and 2 Samuel, and there you’ll see him.
(Saul’s son Jonathan had a son named Mephibosheth, who was crippled in both feet. He was five years old when the news came from Jezreel that Saul and Jonathan were dead. Mephibosheth’s nurse had picked him up and run away. But as she hurried to leave, she dropped him, and now he was lame.) (2 Samuel 4:4 NCV)
The parentheses around the verse are not typos. Mephibosheth is bracketed into the Bible. The verse doesn’t tell us much, just his name (Mephibosheth), his calamity (dropped by his nurse), his deformity (crippled), and then it moves on.
But that’s enough to raise a few questions. Who was this boy? Why is this story in Scripture? Why is Lucado mentioning him in a book about grace? A bit of background would be helpful.
Mephibosheth was the son of Jonathan, the grandson of Saul, who was the first king of Israel. Saul and Jonathan were killed in battle, leaving the throne to be occupied by David. In those days the new king often staked out his territory by exterminating the family of the previous king.
David had no intention of following this tradition, but the family of Saul didn’t know that. So they hurried to escape. Of special concern to them was five-year-old Mephibosheth, for upon the deaths of his father and uncle, he was the presumptive heir to the throne. If David was intent on murdering Saul’s heirs, this boy would be first on his list. So the family got out of Dodge. But in the haste of the moment, Mephibosheth slipped from the arms of his nurse, permanently damaging both feet. For the rest of his life he would be a cripple.
If his story is beginning to sound familiar, it should. You and he have a lot in common. Weren’t you also born of royalty? And don’t you carry the wounds of a fall? And hasn’t each of us lived in fear of a king we have never seen?
Mephibosheth would understand Paul’s portrait of us paupers, “when we were unable to help ourselves...” (Romans 5:6 NCV). For nearly two decades the young prince lived in a distant land, unable to walk to the king, too fearful to talk to the king. He was unable to help himself.
Meanwhile, David’s kingdom flourished. Under his leadership, Israel grew to ten times its original size. He knew no defeat on the battlefield nor insurrection in his court. Israel was at peace. The people were thankful. And David, the shepherd made king, did not forget his promise to Jonathan.
The Promise of a King
David and Jonathan were like two keys on a piano keyboard. Alone they made music, but together they made harmony. Jonathan “loved David as much as he loved himself” (1 Samuel 20:17 NCV). Their legendary friendship met its ultimate test the day David learned that Saul was trying to kill him. Jonathan pledged to save David and asked his friend one favor in return: “You must never stop showing your kindness to my family, even when the Lord has destroyed all your enemies from the earth. So Jonathan made an agreement with David” (1 Samuel 20:15—16 NCV).
Don’t you know this was a tender memory for David? Can’t you imagine him reflecting on this moment years later? Standing on the balcony overlooking the safe city. Astride his steed riding through the abundant fields. Dressed in armor inspecting his capable army. Were there times when he was overwhelmed with gratitude? Were there times when he thought, Had it not been for Jonathan saving my life, none of this would have happened?
Perhaps such a moment of reflection prompted him to turn to his servants and ask, “Is anyone still left in Saul’s family? I want to show kindness to that person for Jonathan’s sake!” (2 Samuel 9:1 NCV).
Those in the grip of grace are known to ask such questions. Can’t I do something for somebody? Can’t I be kind to someone because others have been kind to me? This isn’t a political manoeuvre. David isn’t seeking to do good to be applauded by people. Nor is he doing something good so someone will do something for him. He is driven by the singular thought that he, too, was once weak. And in his weakness he was helped. David, while hiding from Saul, qualified for Paul’s epitaph, “when we were unable to help ourselves” (Romans 5:6 NCV).
David was delivered; now he desires to do the same. A servant named Ziba knows of a descendant. “Jonathan has a son still living who is crippled in both feet.’ The king asked Ziba, ‘Where is this son?’ Ziba answered, ‘He is at the house of Makir son of Ammiel in Lo Debar’” (2 Samuel 9:3—4 NCV).
Just one sentence and David knew he had more than he bargained for. The boy was “crippled in both feet.” Who would have blamed David for asking Ziba, “Are there any other options? Any healthy family members?“
Who would have faulted him for reasoning. A cripple would not fit well into the castle crowd. Only the elite walk these floors; this kid can’t even walk! And what service could he provide? No wealth, no education, no training. And who knows what he looks like? All these years he’s been living in. . . what was it again? Lo Debar? Even the name means “barren place.” Surety there is someone I can help who isn’t so needy.
But such words were never spoken. David’s only response was, “Where is this son?” (v. 4).
This son. One wonders how long it had been since Mephibosheth was referred to as a son. In all previous references he was called a cripple. Every mention of him thus far is followed by his handicap. But the words of David make no mention of his affliction. He doesn’t ask, “Where is Mephibosheth, this problem child?” but rather asks, “Where is this son?”
Many of you know what it’s like to carry a stigma. Each time your name is mentioned, your calamity follows.
“Have you heard from John lately? You know, the fellow who got divorced?“
“We got a letter from Jerry. Remember him, the alcoholic?”
“Sharon is in town. What a shame that she has to raise those kids alone.”
“I saw Melissa today. I don’t know why she can’t keep a job.”
Like a pesky sibling, your past follows you wherever you go. Isn’t there anyone who sees you for who you are and not what you did? Yes. There is One who does. Your King. When God speaks of you, he doesn’t mention your plight, pain, or problem; he lets you share his glory. He calls you his child.
He will not always accuse us,
and he will not be angry forever.
He has not punished us as our sins should be punished;
he has not repaid us for the evil we have done.
As high as the sky is above the earth,
so great is his love for those who respect him.
He has taken our sins away from us
as far as the east is from the west.
The Lord has mercy on those who respect him,
as a father has mercy on his children.
He knows how we were made;
he remembers that we are dust. (Psalms 103:9—14 NCV)
Mephibosheth carried his stigma for twenty years. When people mentioned his name, they mentioned his problem. But when the king mentioned his name; he called him “son.” And one word from the palace offsets a thousand voices in the streets.
David’s couriers journeyed to Mephibosheth’s door, carried him to a chariot, and escorted him to the palace. He was taken before the king, where he bowed facedown on the floor and confessed, “I am your servant” (2 Samuel 9:6 NCV). His fear is understandable. Though he may have been told that David was kind, what assurance did he have? Though the emissaries surely told him that David meant no harm, he was afraid. (Wouldn’t you be?) The anxiety was on the face that faced the floor. David’s first words to him were, “Don’t be afraid.”
By the way, your king has been known to say the same. Are you aware that the most repeated command from the lips of Jesus was, “Fear not”? Are you aware that the command from heaven not to be afraid appears in every book of the Bible?
Mephibosheth had been called, found, and rescued, but he still needed assurance. Don’t we all? Don’t we, like the trembling guest, need assurance that we are bowing before a gracious king? Paul says we have that assurance. The apostle points to the cross as our guarantee of God’s love. “God shows his great love for us in this way: Christ died for us while we were still sinners” (Romans 5:8 NCV). God proved his love for us by sacrificing his Son.
Formerly God had sent prophets to preach: Now he has sent his son to die. Earlier God commissioned angels to aid, now he has offered his son to redeem. When we tremble he points us to the splattered blood on the splintered beams and says, “Don’t be afraid.”
During the early days of the Civil War a Union soldier was arrested on charges of desertion. Unable to prove his innocence, he was condemned and sentenced to die a deserter’s death. His appeal found its way to the desk of Abraham Lincoln. The president felt mercy for the soldier and signed a pardon. The soldier returned to service, fought the entirety of the war, and was killed in the last battle. Found within his breast pocket was the signed letter of the president.3
Close to the heart of the soldier were his leader’s words of pardon. He found courage in grace. I wonder how many thousands more have found courage in the emblazoned cross of their king.
The Privilege of Adoption
Just as David kept his promise to Jonathan, so God keeps his promise to us. The name Mephibosheth means “he who scatters shame.” And that is exactly what David intended to do for the young prince.
In swift succession David returned to Mephibosheth all his land, crops, and servants and then insisted that the cripple eat at the king’s table. Not just once but four times!
“I will give you back all the land of your grandfather Saul, and you will always eat at my table.”
“Mephibosheth. . . will always eat at my table.”
“So Mephibosheth ate at David’s table as if he were one of the king’s Sons.”
Mephibosheth lived in Jerusalem, because he always ate at the king’s table. And he was crippled in both feet.” (2 Samuel 9:7, 10, 11, 13 italics mine)
Pause and envision the scene in the royal dining room. May I turn my pen over to Charles Swindoll to assist you?
The dinner bell rings through the king’s palace and David comes to the head of the table and sits down. In a few moments Amnon---clever, crafty, Amnon---sits to the left of David. Lovely and gracious Tamar, a charming and beautiful young woman, arrives and sits beside Amnon. And then across the way, Solomon walks slowly from his study; precocious, brilliant, preoccupied Solomon. The heir apparent slowly sits down. And then Absalom---handsome, winsome Absalom with beautiful flowing hair, black as a raven, down to his shoulders---sits down. That particular evening Joab, the courageous warrior and David’s commander of the troops, has been invited to dinner. Muscular, bronzed Joab is seated near the king. Afterward they wait. They hear the shuffling of feet, the clump, clump, clump of the crutches as Mephibosheth rather awkwardly finds his place at the table and slips into his seat. . .and the tablecloth covers his feet. I ask you: Did Mephibosheth understand grace?4
And I ask you, do you see our story in his?
Children of royalty, crippled by the fall, permanently marred by sin. Living parenthetical lives in the chronicles of earth only to be remembered by the king. Driven not by our beauty but by his promise, he calls us to himself and invites us to take a permanent place at his table. Though we often limp more than we walk, we take our place next to the other sinners-made-saints and we share in God’s glory.
May I share a partial list of what awaits you at his table?
You are beyond condemnation (Romans 8:1 NCV).
You are delivered from the law (Romans 7:6 NCV).
You are near God (Ephesians 2:13).
You are delivered from the power of evil (Colossians 1:13).
You are a member of his kingdom (Colossians 1:13).
You are justified (Romans 5:1).
You are perfect (Hebrew 10:14).
You have been adopted (Romans 8:15).
You have access to God at any moment (Ephesians 2:18).
You are a part of his priesthood (1 Peter 2:5).
You will never be abandoned (Hebrew 13:5).
You have an imperishable inheritance (1 Peter 1:4).
You are a partner with Christ in life (Col. 3:4) and privilege (Ephesians 2:6), suffering (2 Timothy. 2:12), and service (1 Corinthians 1:9).
You are a:
member of his body (1 Corinthians 12:13),
branch in the vine (John 15:5),
stone in the building (Ephesians 2:19—22),
bride for the groom (Ephesians 5:25—27),
priest in the new generation (1 Peter 2:9), and a
dwelling place of the Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19).
You possess (get this!) every spiritual blessing possible. “In Christ, God has given us every spiritual blessing in the heavenly world” (Ephesians 1:3 NCV). This is the gift offered to the lowliest sinner on earth. Who could make such an offer but God? “From him we all received one gift after another” (John 1:16 NCV).
Paul speaks for us all when he asks,
Have you ever come on anything quite like this extravagant love of God, this deep, deep, wisdom? It’s way over our heads. We’ll never figure it out.
“Is there anyone around who can explain God?
Anyone smart enough to tell him what to do?
Anyone who has done him such a huge favor
that God has to ask his advice?”
Everything comes from him;
Everything comes through him;
Everything ends up in him.
Always glory! Always praise!
Yes. Yes. Yes. (Romans 11:33—36 MSG)
Like Mephibosheth, we are sons of the King. And like me in Miami, our greatest offering is peanuts compared to what we are given. (89-106)
Notes
1. I heard this story at a ministers retreat featuring Gordon MacDonald February 1990.
2. Dr. Paul Faulkner, Achieving Success without Failing Your Family (W. Monroe La.: Howard Publishing, 1994), 14—15.
3. 1041 Sermon Illustrations, Ideas and Expositions (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker, 1953), 244.
4. Charles R. Swindoll, The Grace Awakening (Waco, Tex.: Word, 1990), 70.