PLAIN, VANILLA, GRACE

In his book By Grace Alone, Sinclair Ferguson cuts straight to the heart of Western Christianity's crisis: "A chief reason for the weakness of the Christian church in the West, for the poverty of our witness and any lack of vitality in our worship, probably lies here: we sing about 'amazing grace' and speak of 'amazing grace,' but far too often it has ceased to amaze us. Sadly, we might more truthfully sing of 'accustomed grace.' We have lost the joy and energy that are experienced when grace seems truly amazing."[1]

Accustomed grace. Let that phrase settle for a moment.

Somewhere between the sweet sound of amazing grace and ten thousand years of singing God's praise, the Church has lost something vital. We've tasted the goodness of God. We've experienced the surreal reality of divine forgiveness. And then we've grown comfortable with it. Accustomed to it. How could it be?

Think about what grace actually means. With no intrinsic worth of our own and no salvific value to any of our deeds, we discovered at once that our reach was too short. With dirty hands, dirty hearts, and filthy rags, though we couldn't earn it, couldn't impress Him, couldn't bargain with the God who spoke galaxies into existence, He came to us, offering Himself in an expression of divine condescension that should leave us breathless.

The thought is almost preposterous. How does the One who wears light as a cloak, stretches heaven like a curtain, makes the clouds His chariot, and rides upon the wings of the wind make Himself known to frail humanity? (Psalm 104, paraphrased) More to the point: how could anyone grow accustomed to such auspicious love?

Yet here we are.

God has revealed Himself in the most extraordinary way imaginable, and this story of redemptive love is unwrapped in the Gospel of Christ crucified. Grace is articulated in the Gospel and expressed in Christ on the cross. You need look no further for an appropriate reason for amazement. As Charles Spurgeon reminds us, "Grace is the good pleasure of God that inclines him to bestow benefits upon the undeserving."[2] The cross is where that good pleasure was paid for in blood.

Nevertheless, like the Corinthians, we're a people more interested in self-promotion and personal prerogatives. The result? An old shoe Gospel and a less than astonishing Christ. The fear that haunts anyone willing to engage in sincere self-evaluation is this: our stammering tongues of song-singing worship may someday be revealed as instruments of melodic lies. To sing of amazing, ceaseless grace with a disenchanted heart is to offer worship fit only for the offspring of Judas.

So How Do We Recapture the Wonder?

What will it take to stir hearts toward renewed passion and zeal for the Gospel of Christ crucified? Start here:

Recognize the problem. Is His grace still amazing to you? Be careful not to answer too quickly. Your secret behavior has a rather effective way of betraying your supposed beliefs. John Piper challenges us with this: "One of the great uses of Twitter and Facebook will be to prove at the Last Day that prayerlessness was not from lack of time."[3] Where you spend your time, attention, and affection reveals what truly amazes you.

Ask yourself hard questions:

• When was the last time the Gospel moved you to tears, to worship, to action?

• Do you talk about grace more than you marvel at it?

• Has your Christianity become more duty than delight?

• What occupies your thoughts more: God's mercy or your circumstances?

  
  

Rehearse the Gospel daily. Martin Luther understood this when he said, "Most necessary it is, therefore, that we should know this article well, teach it unto others, and beat it into their heads continually."[4] Beat grace into your own head. Remind yourself every morning that you were dead and are now alive, lost and now found, condemned and now justified.

Practice concrete gratitude. Don't just acknowledge grace theoretically. Write down specific ways God has shown you mercy this week. Name them. Thank Him for them. Tell someone else about them.

Expose yourself to what you were saved from. Read Romans 1-3 slowly. Consider what you deserve. Then read Romans 3:21-26 and let the contrast devastate you in the best possible way.

The path back to amazement isn't complicated, but it does require honesty. It requires admitting that somewhere along the way, the most extraordinary news in human history became ordinary to you. And then it requires doing something about it.

Grace should never be accustomed. It should always be amazing.

[1] Sinclair Ferguson, By Grace Alone: How the Grace of God Amazes Me (Reformation Trust, 2010), xiv.

[2] Charles Spurgeon, All of Grace (Chicago: Moody Publishers, 2001), 24.

[3] John Piper, Twitter post, June 25, 2010.

[4] Martin Luther, Commentary on Galatians, trans. Theodore Graebner (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1939), 101.