Grace is amazing — or can be. It depends on the God giving it.
The grace that is truly amazing flows from a vulnerable God of love, expressing that love by showering grace freely toward all in an ever-widening flood. A God ruling the universe with fear allocates a less amazing “grace” to a narrowing group of recipients.
Which God is truly God? The answer matters. The faith and practice of many who call themselves Christians seems more aligned with a God of fear. I know; this was my own faith and practice for many years.
J. Claude Huguley
We spoke of grace and our love of Jesus but the real force driving all this was fear — fear of God, fear of neighbor, fear of self. We believed the whole universe was awash in fear.
It is taking me a lifetime to unlearn the fear and trust grace.
Grace, as I am coming to understand it, is far more than a “get out of hell free” card for exclusively chosen believers. Grace, to me, is the very substance of the universe, finding its source in the ever-giving, ever-loving God embodied in Jesus and his message of grace. The whole universe is filled with this grace.
“Grace, to me, is the very substance of the universe.”
This grace is available for all and at all times, healing, renewing, restoring, strengthening and empowering. It frees us to be open, creative, inclusive, curious and empathic. It is quantitatively and qualitatively different from the “grace” I learned about as a child.
What I was taught
I grew up in a Southern Baptist church, professing my faith in Jesus and being baptized as an 8-year-old. From this early grace, I started on a lifetime journey, seeking to comprehend the “breadth and length and height and depth” of grace and the one who gives it. I felt a call to seminary and full-time ministry and have served as a hospital chaplain for more than 35 years.
In my childhood and youth, I believed what my church taught me about God and about grace. Grace, in their understanding, was God’s gift of salvation made possible through Jesus’ sacrificial death on the Cross along with God’s vindication of Jesus’ sacrifice through his resurrection. In this divine transaction, grace made possible the forgiveness of my sins, justified saving me from hell, and assured me I would be in God’s presence for eternity.
While this forgiving grace and being in God’s presence for eternity seemed far better than the alternative, we also were glossing over a darker reality. This same God would have sent us to hell for eternity without the intervention of Jesus and his violent death appeasing the divine wrath. And … those who did not believe and trust Jesus were still on the hook for God’s judgment.
“We may have called it ‘grace’ but the threat of fear was always there.”
We may have called it “grace” but the threat of fear was always there.
This “plan” of salvation presented a Holy God of perfection, control and fearsome power demanding obedience and worship from all the creation. This God ruled, using fear and coercive power, threatening retribution or the withholding of good from all who did not perfectly comply. While often described as a God of love, this God seemed more about fear and control.
Humanity in this view was depraved, evil and opposed to God. Humanity may have initially been deemed “good” by the Creator God but then disobeyed, unleashing evil and disharmony into the creation. Humanity, separated from God, was now joined with evil in a cosmic war against God and God’s creative purpose. In the perfect judgment of this God, those who were disobedient and ungodly deserved banishment and eternal punishment for their sin.
But then, we were told, God made a surprising shift in strategy. Responding to this rebellious threat to divine power and control, God unleashed the new and decisive weapon in this war — the grace revealed in Jesus. It came at great cost, requiring the bloody and violent death of God’s self on the Cross. But in this act of self-giving love, this God’s perfect righteousness was satisfied and forgiveness and grace were now available for all who would believe.
If I believed, God would no longer see me and my sin but would instead see Jesus who had died in my place.
“A limited, conditional grace would not really drive out fear — it merely repackaged it.”
In a sense, this was “grace.” But was it not a limited grace if it still did not see and love the real me without the protective covering of Jesus’ blood blocking a full view? And if it only applied to those who believed, was it not more like a business transaction conditioned on a believer’s acceptance of the terms? A limited, conditional grace would not really drive out fear — it merely repackaged it.
Nevertheless, I and other believers were to join with God in this cosmic spiritual war against evil. As members of God’s “team” we were to live out our faith by avoiding worldly temptations, opposing unrighteousness and introducing others to the grace of Jesus. We spoke frequently of God’s love for us, our love for God and our love for others.
Fear remained
But fear remained more prevalent than we would usually acknowledge. We still feared God and we feared for the souls of our friends and loved ones. We also feared that unbelievers might lead us astray or our own demons might entice us into sin and put at risk the “grace” we were relying on to save us.
The spiritual war narrative continually shaped how we saw ourselves and others in the world. It became easier to divide the world into an “us versus them” mentality, suspiciously seeing ourselves and God under relentless attack. This constant sense of threat prompted a defensive and distrustful posture toward any outside influences.
For some, this fear led to passive avoidance and isolation. For others, these perceived attacks justified active aggression, using weapons of fear, coercion and control in the battle because “the end (fulfilling God’s purpose) would justify any means.”
An unbiased observer might have noted the incongruency between these strategies of fear and Jesus’ message of love. Unfortunately, fear distorted what we saw, how we thought and what we did.
It is taking me a lifetime to unlearn the fear and trust grace.
Path of unlearning
My path of unlearning began as I started reading the Bible for myself. In my church, Scripture was held in highest regard as God’s perfect and holy word, carefully preserved from error (inerrant) by God’s Spirit. As God’s very words to humanity, the Bible itself carried an aura of fear and authority where every word, sentence, paragraph, chapter and book within it revealed the truth of God. My childhood mentors would have resonated with the simplistic slogan, “The Bible says it, I believe it, that settles it.”
“My path of unlearning began as I started reading the Bible for myself.”
Initially, I looked at familiar verses and passages that corresponded to what I was taught at church. Over time, I expanded my study to the verses, paragraphs and chapters surrounding these familiar passages and made a wider search of the whole Bible. I found much that enhanced and reinforced my understanding, growing my budding faith.
But I also encountered passages that challenged and appeared to contradict it. When a nonbeliever friend in high school asked me to explain Psalm 137: 9 (“Happy shall he be who takes your little ones and dashes them against the rock!”), it triggered a spiritual crisis for me. Here was something the Bible clearly said that I could not believe to be true. How could I reconcile this verse with what I knew and believed about Jesus?
Fortunately, I was graced to have some mature guides who encouraged my questions. These pointed me beyond a strict literal reading/understanding of the words to the more profound and deeper truth these words could convey. I learned to pay attention to the context surrounding both the original writing and that first audience. I noted the ways my own context might be similar and different.
This approach allowed me to take Scripture more seriously and apply it more honestly even as it left room for uncertainty, doubts and new insight in my lived faith.
(An aside: Psalm 137:9 took on new meaning with this approach. This verse no longer had to be an indefensible and cruel imperative we believers had to defend. These were instead words expressing human despair, rage and grief in response to unspeakable acts of violence experienced by victims of war. These words were directed toward their captors and voiced a lament to God. That these words would be preserved in Scripture speaks volumes about a faith relationship with a God who empathizes with humanity and the depths of human emotion and pain.)
‘No fear in love’
As my journey continued, one particular passage helped me begin to recognize and critique my learned faith and its connection to fear. 1 John 4:18-19 reads: “There is no fear in love, but (God’s) perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. We love because he (God) first loved us.”
The light of these words gave me permission to reconsider the place of fear in my faith. They invited me toward trusting a source of love that contains no fear, casts out fear when encountering it and responds with grace instead of punishment when fear manifests itself in hurtfulness.
“The more I trusted this grace, the more fear I unlearned.”
Over time I began to realize this was a completely different way — a new paradigm — for seeing faith and reality. My eyes opened to grace, helping me see the relationship between God, humanity and creation from a far more lifegiving perspective. Grace tells us God is love, humanity and all creation is loved, and grace is the ever-giving, ever-present expression and substance of that love.
The more I trusted this grace, the more fear I unlearned.
And the more grace I began to see.
See grace anew
I reconsidered my understanding of the Genesis creation stories and the prologue of John’s Gospel (John 1:1-18), discovering within them that grace already is present from the very beginning. Creation is thus the very first of many ongoing expressions of grace. And Jesus is more than just a new “strategy” or “weapon” in the divine war against evil.
Jesus is the very embodiment of this grace and the message of grace he brings. John’s prologue tells us, “The Word became flesh and lived among us” “full of grace and truth.”
If grace is eternally synonymous with God’s being and Jesus is the embodiment of this grace to humanity, then this is a different gospel from the fear-infused one I learned about as a youth. This grace that always was, always is and always will be transcends fear, dispelling any notion of a god of fear. If this grace is truth, any god characterized by fear, coercion, violence and punishment must be a false representation of the true God of grace.
“I started re-reading the Gospels, the epistles and the rest of the New Testament through a grace-assumed vantage point.”
So, then I started re-reading the Gospels, the epistles and the rest of the New Testament through a grace-assumed vantage point. I found this grace paradigm to be a more accurate framing of the text. Jesus’ central message could be paraphrased as “I have come from the God full of grace — trust me, trust and live into this grace.”
We see this message in Jesus’ first sermon found in Luke: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
We see this in “For God so loved the world,” “A certain man had two sons,” and Jesus’ words, “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” Everything in all the Gospels — narrations, dialogues, miracles, parables and stories leading to the Cross and resurrection — carries the same central message: “Trust Jesus, trust and live into this grace”.
This pattern continues as we see Paul’s words to the Philippian jailer in Acts, “Believe on the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household.”
The Epistle to the Ephesians tells us, “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God — not the result of works, so that no one may boast.”
In these and many other examples from the New Testament, we can see different ways of expressing the same central message of grace: “Trust Jesus, trust and live into this grace.”
“Trust Jesus, trust and live into this grace” is an invitation — not a demand. Living into grace is to be a choice where we choose to be gracing in response to the grace we are receiving. As I describe in my book Trusting Grace, we are invited to join a divine/human dance of giving, receiving and giving again with trust. We and all creation are beloved by God and this love is continually expressed through grace. We then love God and all creation, one another and ourselves in ongoing responses of gracing trust.
What about sin?
Of course, there is still the matter of sin.
Growing up in my church, we were told that the word “sin” we found in our English Scriptures came from Hebrew and Greek words that literally meant “missing the mark” as in missing a target. We understood the “target” we were shooting for and missing was God’s rules for righteous living. The list of rules included the Ten Commandments but grew to encompass anything large or small that someone with authority deemed “bad” (and usually saw practiced by others different from themselves).
The focus here was on individual acts done by individual people. Assigning blame/responsibility to the perpetrator of wrongful acts was necessary in determining the just and appropriate punishment/retribution needed to rebalance the scales. The logic of fear assumed that punishing the perpetrator (hurting them back) would teach them not to be hurtful going forward. Furthermore, the one originally hurt would hopefully derive some sense of satisfaction from knowing the one who hurt them was hurt back on their behalf.
While acts of wrongdoing often resulted in hurt to ourselves, other individuals or the wider world, each act of sin was ultimately considered a defiant challenge to God’s rightful authority and control. Sin separated us from God, turned God against us, and subjected us to God’s fearful wrath and punishment.
“This understanding of sin made God’s love toward us conditional, putting us always at risk of losing that love.”
Practically speaking, this understanding of sin made God’s love toward us conditional, putting us always at risk of losing that love. Seemingly, the only way around the fear this engendered was a scrupulous keeping of every jot and tittle of every rule, every time, or constantly begging for forgiveness in hopes that God would not tire of granting it. This is the ongoing dilemma for those feeling compelled to “trust” a god of fear — the paralyzing fear never really goes away.
This fear of punishment might prompt resentful compliance but cannot bring lasting healing for hurts or a genuine changing of hearts.
The God of grace, revealed and embodied in Jesus, relates differently to both sin and those who are “sinners.” This grace and love revealed is unconditional and unending. It is for all of us, always: “Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Nothing we do or don’t do changes God’s love for us all. Even when we “sin,” this God of grace still loves and graces us again and again and again.
The wrong target
The faith of my childhood was correct when defining sin as “missing the mark.” We just had the wrong target.
The target in the realm of grace may be hard to get our heads and hearts around but its essence is expressed in being “full of grace and truth.” As we have been graced and are being graced, we are to be grace ourselves. In this view, “sin” results when we are being un-gracing and/or hurtful.
When our actions or attitudes are un-gracing and hurtful, it is sin. We do bear a level of responsibility for the hurt we inflict and the ripples of hurtfulness that follow from our actions.
But grace looks deeper, knowing that “hurt people hurt people” and a past hurt is likely triggering or energizing my hurtful action today. The most awful perpetrators of abuse toward vulnerable victims almost always were recipients or observers of abuse when they themselves were vulnerable. This pattern of abuse passed down and carried forward often goes back multiple generations, fueled by unresolved hurt and fear.
Grace sees the fulness of the underlying hurt or fear experienced by all who are hurt — perpetrator, victim and bystanders — and all the wounds and fears (past and present) that brought each to that moment. Grace also sees the systemic hurtfulness of racism, sexism, ageism and all the forms of exploitation, injustice and violence that embed and multiply hurt across generations.
Grace knows that every individual and systemic hurtful act communicates to the recipients of hurt that they have less value or worth. Hurtfulness is ungrace. All hurtful acts deny the truth of grace and the universal belovedness of all creation.
“Grace responds by hurting with each and every one of us.”
But grace responds by hurting with each and every one of us, empathizing with each of us, and continuing to love us abundantly, inviting us into a fuller grace.
Grace comes in many ways and many forms but always with the steady hope that we all will freely move toward being more “full of grace and truth.”
Consequences
This means grace sometimes comes in the form of consequences. The gracing consequence of my hurtful action may result in a loss of trust, loss of relationship, loss of opportunity or a loss of freedom (when the justice system becomes involved). While these consequences may bring me lasting hurt, they serve a redemptive purpose when they soften my heart to be more receptive to the grace I need to receive and give.
Unlike a punishment that seeks to bring retributive justice and added fear to my hurt, a consequence coming from grace looks to facilitate healing for both me and all those hurt by my ungracing action. Coming alongside me with love, grace provides a safe space that invites me to accountability and a growing awareness of the impact of my hurtfulness. It triggers remorse and proactive efforts to own my ungrace and makes gracing responses offering repair, restitution or whatever is required from me for reconciliation.
“Grace changes me — freeing me to be grace in the lives of those I have hurt.”
Grace changes me — freeing me to be grace in the lives of those I have hurt.
Grace also reaches out to those I have hurt — both directly and those impacted by my action. Grace comes alongside each of them, empathically hurting with them in their hurt, encouraging, strengthening and offering renewal. It brings the ever-present reminders that no hurtful experience changes the truth of the infinite value and worth of all the creation. Grace creates safe space for inviting empathy and reframing, making possible forgiveness and reconciliation. In fostering this healing, grace transforms my once hurtful acts into new expressions of grace to me, to those I have hurt and to the wider world.
Grace holds the steady hope that every individual, every group and every hurtful system in the whole of creation will be transformed to be more and more “full of grace and truth.”
But for many, trusting grace from a trustworthy God might seem like a pipe dream, a fool’s errand, a naïve hope. Fear appears to be the sole reality in a world filled with suffering, distrust and inhumanity. Staying trapped in the lies of fear may seem like the only choice.
Nevertheless, the truth of Jesus’ message of grace transcends the lies of fear.
“Trust Jesus, trust and live into this grace.” How do we answer this invitation and trust and live into this grace?
We are trusting this grace and living into this grace when:
- We start looking for grace all around us and celebrating the abundance of grace
- We start attributing the source of grace to the trustworthy God revealed in Jesus
- We start recognizing the grace in every possession, relationship and experience we are gifted to receive
- We start acknowledging our failures and our need for grace
- We start opening ourselves to receiving grace and being grace
- We start being grace by loving God, our neighbor and ourselves with more grace
- We start being grace by modeling an authentic honesty that invites trust
- We start being grace as we extend the grace of forgiveness to ourselves and those who have hurt us
- We start being grace as we grieve our losses and grieve with others in their losses
- We start being grace as we practice kindness, empathy, patience and generosity with those who are hurting
- We start being grace as we help meet needs for food, shelter, health care and safety
- We start being grace as we advocate for justice and nonviolence while standing with the marginalized
- We start being grace when we come alongside those needing strength, encouragement and hope in the face of fear
- We keep unlearning more fear and trusting more grace
- We keep choosing grace in response to all forms of ungrace
- We keep trusting this God of grace and praying for more grace to flow in us and through us into a world still trapped in the lies of fear.
We may not do all of these even some of the time and some of these we may struggle to do any of the time. Grace invites us to start where we are, trust as we can and live into this grace in the full knowledge that the trustworthy God of this truly amazing grace is patiently working in us and though us until we too become “full of grace and truth.”
May it be so in your life and mine, and throughout all creation.
Claude Huguley is a son, brother, husband, father and grandfather who has served as a hospital chaplain for more than 30 years in Nashville, Tenn. He is the author of a new book, Trusting Grace: The Journey from Fear to Love. He and his family are members of Immanuel Baptist Church in Nashville.
