It always annoys me when people connect Christianity with judgment.
The missing element? Grace.
Jesus spent the vast majority of his time on earth with people on the margins of society. He washed feet, dined with the outcasts and touched ‘unclean’ people.
How awesome is that?!
Yet, somehow, people still manage to connect Christianity with Type A personalities, perfect lifestyles and hierarchical dualism.
“Out of his fullness, we have all received grace upon grace!” -John 1:16.
Grace upon grace.
Not just a bit of grace, but a whole LOT of grace.
When my father-in-law and I had that heart-melting moment of love and grace abounding, it was because we’d both encountered Jesus. Love and grace. Jesus.
And when I landed my dream job at the amazing school against all odds, that is God’s grace in action right there.
Grace: Unearned, unmerited, undeserved favour.
God’s grace is an un-coerced initiative.
No hidden agendas.
Even when I am kicking, screaming and jumping up and down declaring how unfair my shitty, shitty life is, God just wraps his loving arms around me and he loves me. When I fall from grace, God just reaches down, picks me up, and dusts me off. Over and over again.
“God’s mercy and grace are new every morning” -Lamentations 3:23.
Grace is a process.
Love is a process.
Forgiveness is a process.
Life is a process.
And maybe that was my beef with the question in a previous chapter about “when” I became a Christian. Because it is a process. A journey. An adventure!
None of this, “Oh, I’m a Christian so I’m all good now!” Pfft!
More like, “I’m a Christian; I totally stink, but my flaws are a canvas for God’s grace.”
God just keeps reaching down, picking me up, and dusting me off. Over and over. Grace is amazing. Amazing grace. An uplifting, inspiring, liberating feeling of arriving home. Finding your true identity in Christ. Finding wholeness. My chains are gone; I’ve been set free! My God, my Saviour, has ransomed me! (yes, I’m quoting the song). And that is a wow-factor moment. And it frees me to be me! That whacky-doo mess that I am.
*Happy dance again*
…it doesn’t end there though.
While that is such an a beautiful concept to come to terms with, I could never seem to escape the reality that I will be set free when I give grace to others.
Jesus says, “As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you” (John 20:21).
And I often find that He is saying that to me.
Whether I like it or not.
In the form of a not-sugar-coating-anything friend or in a Bible verse that pops up or through the example of someone else showing grace, love and forgiveness to someone else who hurt them.
Yep, I face the rather unnerving task of somehow attempting to show grace to Mr Ex.
Mother of fuckery! Prickles on petunias!
I don’t want a bar of it!!!!!!
As Jesus was dying on the cross, crucified by the very people he was trying to save, he cried out, “Father, forgive them, because they don’t know what they’re doing” (Luke 23:34). Let’s not forget that Jesus was, in fact, completely innocent. He had done nothing wrong – only teach us that we should love each other – and we found that so offensive that we crucified him. Jesus’s disciples, who were witnesses to this whole miserable affair and then went on to all write books which can be found in the Bible, all give an account of this.
These are some excerpts of how Luke puts it:
Pilate told the high priests and the accompanying crowd, “I find nothing wrong here. Jesus seems harmless enough to me.” But the crowd kept insisting, “He stirs up the people…”
Pilate then called together the chief priests and the rulers and the people, and said to them, “You brought me this man as one who was misleading the people. And after examining him before you, I did not find this man guilty of any of your charges against him. Neither has Herod, because he sent Him back to us. Clearly, He has done nothing to deserve death. I will therefore warn him and release him.”
At that, the crowd went wild: “Kill him! Give us Barabbas!” (Barabbas had been thrown in prison for starting a riot in the city and for murder).
Pilate still wanted to let Jesus go, and so spoke out again. But they kept shouting, “Crucify, crucify him!'”
And Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; they don’t know what they are doing.”
What happened next? Plot spoiler: Barabbas, a murderer, was released from prison and Jesus, an innocent man, was tortured and executed.
Again, I say, mother of fuckery! Prickles of petunias!
Jesus loves the people who wanted him dead. Jesus is loving us. Jesus is loving me.
“We can understand someone dying for a person worth dying for, and we can understand how someone good and noble could inspire us to selfless sacrifice. But God put his love on the line for us by offering his Son in sacrificial death while we were of no use whatever to him.” (Romans 5:7-8).
Now, that’s love. And grace. And forgiveness.
Grace is essentially the opposite of karma. Grace is getting what you don’t deserve, and not getting what you do deserve.
Grace is God giving peace to the broken, love to the unlovable, hope to the hopeless, and light to the darkness.
And that gripes me when I think of Mr Ex and Cosette.
BECAUSE IT IS NOT FAIR.
They don’t deserve grace. And they don’t care whether I give them grace or NOT!
Yes, God, I see.
When Jesus told the story of the vineyard workers, the lazy good-for-nothing workers who slacked off and only worked half a day were paid the exact same amount as the diligent workers who sweated it out all day long.
How is that fair?!?!?!?!?
And that is Jesus’s point. He says, “So the last will be first, and the first will be last” (Matt: 20:16).
And that is how there came to be a screaming, mocking crowd wanting to crucify Jesus.
Jesus’s goodness and grace was offensive.
Because we don’t realise that it is what we need most.
It’s like posture. I know full-well that I shouldn’t slouch. I know I should keep stomach muscles in, chest out, and shoulders back. But dammit, shoulders curved over and back slumped over is just SO much more comfy.
But, alas, then I get a sore back and feel like an 95-year-old. And the more I try to sit upright, the more it feels uncomfortable. Even when physios or the health and safety expert at work tell me about correct alignment-blah-blah, I just keep thinking, I wanna slouch! But, lo and behold, when I do actually suck it up and stick my shoulders back – pushing through the initial feeling of un-comfort – I end up feeling much, much healthier from within.
That’s like grace.
Writing that, I do feel like a bit of a pansy. I have this image of grace going hand-in-hand with fairy floss, unicorns and rainbows. Like that marshmallow fantasy land in Nintendo’s Super Mario Party.
But I am reminding myself everyday that grace is actually hardcore.
It’s bad ass.
There’s nothing gentle and angelic about grace.
Grace sees shit in all its glory.
And it changes us from the inside out.
A friend once told me that she loved my blog, but she was surprised by my swearing. And I reckon there are probably at least four or five other people in my life who have read it and thought the same thing, but don’t want to say that to my face.
So, I prayed about it and I gave it serious thought.
I could easily sanitise my blog. I could remove the f-bombs and replace them with cleaner, wholesome words and a glossy cherry on top.
But my language is very deliberate. Why?
Because God goes there.
Yes, God meets me there in my pain-filled, gut-wrenching f-bombs. That is how low he will reach down to rescue us. And he will go lower still. There is no limit to how wide his grace-filled arms will span.
And really, ‘Christian’ is NOT a synonym of pansy, pushover, sucker, or weakling.
When Jesus prayed for the very people who wanted him dead, that would take SERIOUS GUTS.
When Jesus asked God to forgive the very people who wanted him dead, that would take SERIOUS GUTS.
And when Jesus said some of his final words, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” that would also take SERIOUS GUTS.
So, I try.
Some days, I’m better at it.
Other days = epic fail.
Grace is when I work through the chips on my shoulder.
Grace is when I accept that some Christians might choose to abstain from alcohol and dancing. Some Christians might prefer to dress modestly. Some Christians might favour the King James language. And, Essie – note to self – that is OK. Just because I think that’s bullshit, conformist and culture rather than biblical, doesn’t mean that I have to compromise my compassion for those people. The truth is that there are Christians in those conservative, fundamentalist churches and they are still people who are passionate about God. The same God that I worship.
Grace is every time I bite my tongue when I want to actually email Mr Ex to tell him about my AMAZING new job at the AMAZING new school. I’d absolutely LOVE to rub it in his face that MY God has blessed me, while HE and Cosette are up shit creek without a paddle.
Oh, fuck it!
I’ve just fallen off the grace-wagon.
Try again, Essie!
Grace is every time I manage to pray for Mr Ex and Cosette.
Yuck, muck, schmuck, bluck, cluck, ruck, stuck in chuck.
But it somehow changes me.
Prayer changes me.
I start praying for Mr Ex and Cosette through gritted teeth. I start praying, feeling either like, 1) a fraud who just wants to see Mr Ex and Cosette BURN in a FIREY PIT while I get to watch whilst enjoying popcorn and a glass of Molly Dooker, or 2) an absolute PUSH-OVER, weakling, doormat, and downright CHRISTIAN IDIOT who is praying for my ex-husband who CHEATED on me (MADNESS to pray for him, right?!?!)
But something kind of happens.
The coercing, plotting, vengeful Essie is somehow cleansed.
And I feel peace.
God reaches down, plucks me out of my ditch, and gives me a heart transplant. Makes me new. Resurrects me.
Don’t ask me how. But I can tell you now that that process is FAR BEYOND anything I could ever do. On my own, there is NO FRIGGIN’ WAY that I could EVER find that peace.
And that is another of the many reasons that I believe in God.
Then, on other days, I just screw it all up. Actually, I can sometimes screw it up something chronic.
My vengeance-loving, justice-seeking heart gets in the way. And the result? Grace incorrectly administered. And a thwarted view of the Bible and Christianity in general.
I have a particular memory in mind. It is one of those memories where I’d much rather just keep my mouth shut and move swiftly on. But, in the interest of authenticity and honestly owning my story, I admit that, early on this whole shebang, I sent Mr Ex a text. It went something along the lines of, “I am doing really well and I’ve never felt closer to God. That’s because I have God on my side.” And then I included that motherload Bible verse where God says “Vengeance is mine.” It is EASY-PEASY lemon-squeezey to use the Bible for bad. Or to twist it to suit our own purposes and our own emotions.
Essie Bell: GUILTY AS CHARGED.
And the sad thing is that it happens all the time.
Christians send that exact text message to pretty much every non-Christian everyday without even realising it.
“God is out to get you unless you change your cheating ways!”
“God SAID he’s gonna get revenge for ME”
“He’s MY God and he’s on MY side”
*Dr Evil pinky finger to mouth*
Yes, God does say that vengeance belongs to him. God is telling us to not take revenge, but to leave it up to him.
But really, I don’t think we are capable of understanding exactly what God means when he says that.
God is love.
And the thing with God, is that He doesn’t have our mean, vengeance-loving, spiteful heart. So when he ‘gets vengeance’, He can actually do it from a place of love.
And, I know I can speak for myself when I say that is SO beyond my comprehension. I can only imagine vengeance coming from a place of hatred and spite. I can’t even begin to imagine vengeance coming from a place of love.
By the way, don’t get me wrong; It would be completely inappropriate for me to tell Mr Ex and Cosette that I love them. He is my ex-husband and she is ‘the other woman’. I don’t think for one second that God wants me to email them saying, “Hey guys, just wanted you to know that I love you!”
But I can show grace by praying for them. And just for the record, I don’t get bogged down in praying for them everyday. That’s ridiculous. On a good day, they’re far from my mind. And that’s awesome! I shouldn’t be thinking about them. I have plenty of other things to think about and pray about. But on a bad day, I get bitter and twisted. And that’s when I need to practice grace. To pray for them. And to pray that God’s will be done in their lives.
Like antiseptic cream, it stings at first.
But it is what heals me when I need it.
And like a flood, His mercy reigns. Unending Love. Amazing Grace.