Falling into Arms

Falling Into Arms--Sept. 2, 2016

"Then the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' But the father said to his slaves, 'Quickly, bring out a robe--the best one--and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!' And they began to celebrate." [Luke 15:21-24]

In some ways, grace is less like a courtroom scene and more like a reunion.

Over the centuries, Christians have been known to talk about the gospel like it is a grand courtroom scene in which God (the judge) bangs a gavel and declares us "not guilty." Or, depending on how they have wanted to push the metaphor, they might say the judge declares us guilty but then Jesus serves our sentence. Or, we are declared guilty, and then the sentence commuted and Jesus pays all of our fines.  You can see how the variations could play out. And sure, there is something--something--about the good news of grace that is somehow like an official decree or verdict that you are free and there will be neither a life sentence nor a lightning bolt.

But there is a critical difference between the gospel's promise of grace and the verdict scene in the courtroom: when you walk out of the courtroom, you are done with the judge. Relationship (such as it was) over.  There is no future or continuation of your connection with the judge.  Honestly, the judge may never give you another thought again, unless you end up on trial again for something else.  In other words, a judge may declare you "not guilty," but that doesn't really give you a fresh start with the judge--it gives just an ending.

But when the Bible really gets going talking about what the grace of God is like, it shifts away from courtroom language pretty quickly in favor of the language of relationship.  Grace is not God saying, "I'll cook the books and pretend your debt is gone, but we'll never speak again..." but more like God saying, "Here is a robe and a ring and new sandals. Here is a party in your honor.  Here is a renewed relationship, because you had been dead and are alive again. You were lost and now you are found!"  In other words, it is a welcome back into relationship.

And, rather unlike the formal, drawn out proceedings of a courtroom, in which both sides have opportunity to make their speeches and call their witnesses, the grace of God stops us mid-speech like the returning son in Jesus' famous parable. Before he can offer a deal back to his dad by which he could try to earn his keep on the payroll as an employee, the father in the story cuts him off and just lavishes all the signs of belonging on him.  The father doesn't wait for the son to beat himself up sufficiently, or even make the offer to be a hired hand.  The father (a picture of the grace of God if ever there were one) just cuts him off and restores the father-son relationship.

The son and the father will start over again--but as father and son, truly, not as boss and worker, or debtor and creditor.  But the idea is a relationship that stretches out into the future, not something in which they each walk away from the transaction unchanged. 

That's how it is with us and God. God doesn't just bang some forgiveness gavel and say, "You're covered up through here, but afterward you're all on your own."  God pulls us back into relationship--back into the daily dependence, daily sharing, daily hope, daily love, rather than saying, "You're on your own now, kid...."  That means that even our starting over is not a starting alone--we are promised that God goes with us.

For us today, the hope we are given is not merely that we are on our own, with a clean slate but left to fend for ourselves.  But rather our hope is that God starts us over like a returned son coming home to find open arms waiting for him.  The relationship continues. We are brought back something that will keep on going.  The Gospel is not about "getting away" with our sins but more like getting into something good--or maybe more to the point, discovering that even if we thought we were "kicked out of the club" or "voted out of the family," we had never lost our belonging at all--robe and ring and sandals were waiting for us all along, kept ready for us while a pair of worried eyes kept looking out for us on the edge of the horizon day by day. 

We were never out of the grace of God.  You cannot "fall from grace," as though you were out of the reach of mercy--you can only, rather, fall into the arms of grace and discover they had been held out all day long for you.

That's what grace is like--that's what holds us on this day.  That is so much more than a heavenly "get out of jail free card."

Go and know you are beloved today.

Lord God hold out your arms, and let us fall into them today.