Grace is Not Always Practical
The other night I walked into Camden’s bedroom and asked him whatamden can devour a book in hours.
“I’m reading the Bible,” he said.
“You’re reading the what? The Bible?” I replied.
“Yeah, I’m reading the Bible,” he said with a bit of frustration.
Trying to be cool and nonchalant, I asked, “Well, what are you reading in the Bible?”
“I don’t know. I’m just flipping around. What do you think I should read?”
“This is my shot,” I thought to myself. “Pastor, don’t F this up.”
“Uh, check out Mark or if you’re not interested in that, we can find one of your favorite stories,” I suggested."
“I’ll figure it out,” he fired back.
Over the past five months, I’ve led a group of families at church in discovering how they can begin or start anew to teach their children about the faith they have been baptized into.
In Mini-Vangelism (thank you Rev. Drew Colby for the name) we have adult conversations about faith, raising kids in the church, the best ways to talk with our children about current events, and how to help our children explore God's presence as they go out into the world.
This past Sunday we wrapped up a study of Philipp Cary’s book Good News for Anxious Christians. Our conversation centered on story vs. theory or practicality. Living where we live, with the types of people in our community, it can be easy to skip over the story and skip straight to the application for our everyday life or theory.
Searching for practicality is what we do when we can’t make sense of the scriptures. Rather than looking for what the second person of the Trinty is doing in the gospels, we instead opt to split hairs over how to best apply a story we barely understand to our everyday life (as though there is a cookie-cutter model for everyday living).
What we neglect in our desire for practicality is the story being told. The story is what draws us in because each of us is in the story. Where we get lost is by misidentifying ourselves in the unfolding drama. Then, we get confused and begin looking for 5 simple steps to fill in the blank.
We label ourselves the Good Samaritan instead of the person in the ditch or the people who pass by.
We think ourselves to be the father running to meet the prodigal son when in reality we could be someone invited to the party not knowing what is going on or the brother who scoffing.
The Bible, from Genesis through Revelation invites us in because from cover to cover we find the good news of the gospel. But if we are constantly looking for a practical angel that is not the good news of Jesus Christ then we miss that the good news we are (possibly) glossing over is for us, for them, and for all creation.
We find the good news of Christ in his story, not ours.
Phillip Cary writes, “But the gospel is not a theory to apply; it’s a story to believe. It is good news that gladdens our heart, glad about—something we embrace by faith alone, not by doing something about it. To be precise, it gives us someone to be glad about. For the gospel, believing the story of our Lord Jesus Christ, does not give us practical advice or a theory about how to live our lives. It gives us God in the flesh.”
Think back to December or jump ahead to April. The stories of Christmas and Easter are two of the most well-known stories in all of humanity. The most casual Christian knows these stories. They may cross their fingers when reciting the Apostles’ Creed, or think the stories are nothing but fanciful tales, but these stories are known far and wide. And that is because these stories are shaping the world.
Whether we like it or not, God is at work. Changing hearts, minds, and the world, regardless of the practicality we attach to individual stories.
Practicality is not the gospel because by our standards the gospel is not practical.
In his book Between Noon and Three: Romance, Law, and the Outrage of Grace, Robert Capon wrote, “The Gospel is not a philosophy or a morality or a cultural tradition. It is an event. It is the story of Christ, God's incarnation and victory over death. It is the proclamation of a grace which is bestowed on a world of scoundrels who have no claim to it."
Story before practicality.
The story leads us to our theology.
Don’t get me wrong. Theology is important.
How we talk about God is important.
What we say about the Trinity is important.
That bread and wine transform in holy mystery into body and blood is important.
But the only way we can make sense of this theology is to immerse ourselves in the story and experience it for ourselves.
I walked back into Camden’s room after saying goodnight to Nora.
“Are you still reading?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m reading about Noah. I like the story. I think it is my favorite,” he told me.
Then, without warning, he went into a stream of consciousness:
“Hey, dad, I don’t know if I believe this.”
“How could anyone make the water rise that fast?”
“No one lives to be 600 years old. Well, no one except Santa, and he’s like 300.”
“And how did the animals all get to the ark? They all couldn’t swim but some had to right? How could the polar bears get to the ark from the North Pole?”
“Those are some serious questions,” I told him.
He wasn’t looking for answers.
“Can I ask you a question? How do you think all of that worked itself out?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but it’s a good story and God can do anything, right?”
“Are you asking me?” I replied.
“No dad. I’m just saying, I’ve read the stories and there is some crazy stuff that happens. You preach crazy stuff. Your job is crazy.”
“If you only knew,” I thought.
“Listen, dude,” I said to him, “what do you think about the story? What’s your take?”
“Well, if God can do the stuff Jesus did, then why can’t God do the stuff with Noah? What story are we going to read next?”
“We"?” I asked.
“Yeah, I figure you know these stories. Let’s read them together.”
And with that, I was moved from practicality to story.
From practical to grace.
From life application to Good News.