Scandalous Grace

This is a follow-up to last week's post on Abundant Affirmation for Abundant Sinners, which you can read HERE. We take what we learned last week and apply it all our roles, and even to those serving as pastors and ministers. 

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Grace is scandalous to many. Just as some hate God’s law, so some hate God’s mercy because it just doesn’t seem fair. The natural woman or man drifts toward, “I don’t want to pay for my sins, but I certainly want you to pay for yours.”

In her novel Golden Girl, Elin Hilderbrand recounts a daughter’s falling apart after her mother dies. The daughter starts acting out—drugs, alcohol, and an affair with a married man (Carson—the daughter—is single). Her boss tries to show Carson mercy but warns her that if she does drugs again while on duty as a bartender, she’ll be fired. Giving an ultimatum like that to an addict is like telling someone who is falling that if they don’t stop falling, they’ll hit the ground. I’m not faulting the owner of the bar, just pointing out how words are so impotent in the face of painful desperation.

Carson’s behavior disgusts you as you read her story. I don’t have space to get into the atrocious level of betrayal and selfishness she displayed. And the owner of the bar seems like a good guy who wants to give Carson a chance, but she pushes him too far. He can’t overlook what she’s doing.

But Hilderbrand is brilliant in the way she shows an eventually repentant Carson (who finally quits drinking) confess to a guy why she got fired. She recounts what she did—and it’s horrific—but you have empathy for her.

“I got fired,” Carson says. She holds his eyes. “I had a douchebag customer, big-money guy, who ordered kamikaze shots and asked that I do one with his group.”

Marshall groans…

“That happened four times,” Carson says, shaking her head…What had she been thinking?

“You did four shots with a customer?” Marshall says. He looks equal parts impressed and aghast. “Can you imagine if I did that here?”

“Then the guy asked me for a kiss,” Carson says.

“You slapped him, I hope?”

“I was too angry to slap him. I kissed him good, trying to make a point, which was lost among all the people cheering us on and filming it.”

“Oh, Carson.”

“And that’s not even why I got fired,” Carson says. “I got fired because I insulted a barback who worked with me and she saw me doing coke in the ladies room and told our boss.”

Marshall is quiet. She has horrified him.

“My boss, George, the owner, had been clear about us never doing drugs on the job. So I got fired.”

“I’m sorry,” Marshall says.

“Don’t be,” Carson says. She stirs her Shirley Temple and watches the grenadine swirl through the ginger ale like watercolor paint. “I deserved it. George was way cooler than he had to be. He said he’ll give me a glowing reference when I get my act cleaned up…which is what I’m trying to do now.”[i]

If I’m counseling a guy and he described to me behavior similar to what Carson did, asking for my advice, everything within me would want to scream, “Run, don’t walk, run to anyone else. Not her!”

And yet you cheer when Marshall eventually asks Carson out. Carson is repentant. She comes to terms with her pain. She sort of straightens herself out and then does straighten herself out.

The underlying theme of the novel is Carson’s mom’s death, a famous novelist who was killed by a hit-and-run driver. When, near the end, they finally uncover who the hit-and-run driver was, Carson wants to argue for a maximum prison sentence. Her older sister wants to offer a statement of mercy.

“I just feel like we aren’t honoring Mom unless we ask for the maximum sentence,” Carson says.

Her older sister pushes back. “As usual, you have things backward. We honor Mom by offering forgiveness. You know how she treats the characters in her books? She gives them flaws, she portrays them doing horrible things—but the reader loves them anyway. Because Mom loves them. Because they’re human.”[ii]

What a statement of grace! Can we love people who do horrible things because God the author loves them? That question alone will anger a lot of angry people because they’ll assume we are giving a pass to people to do more horrible things. Grace doesn’t eclipse accountability. In fact, grace is the most compelling call to accountability: “God’s kindness leads us to repentance” (Romans 2:4). But grace colors our attitude and motivations with a gloriously godly hue. There is nothing on this planet quite like God’s grace because it is ultimately heavenly.

In his book All In, Mark Batterson talks about the difference between “prophets” and Pharisees.

Pharisees treat people based on past performance.

Prophets treat people based on future potential…

Pharisees write people off.

Prophets write people in.

Pharisees see sin.

Prophets see the image of God.

Pharisees give up on people.

Prophets give them a second chance.[iii]

When you understand the good enough for God life, you realize that God is more like a prophet than he is a Pharisee. To live the good enough for God life, stop listening to the Pharisees and start listening to the Great Prophet.