By Life

Contrary to what the majority of people think, grace takes practice. I think most of us were taught that grace is something that's being constantly poured into us by some sort of intrusive free pass to be lazy assholes. Grace has been referred to as an "easy way out" or a lazy man's excuse to stay stuck. We fuck up, pray a little prayer and then dive right back into our stench. It's not surprising that the idea of grace has been left sitting in the dusty bookcase between the Bible and the spare key to my 1987 Firefly that I sold in 1999.

It's almost like there's two major groups of people: the grace abusers and the grace refusers.

The grace abusers are the people we love to hate. They mess up like we all do but then the second they walk through those church doors on Sunday they assume that they're all good to go again. Church on Sunday? Check. Best casserole brought to the church ladies' brunch? Check. Pole stuck sideways up their bums? Check. Check. Check. They "do" all the right things, desperate to try to erase that nagging voice in their hearts that tells them that the ropes on their wrists can simply be untied by their good deeds. The sun comes back up on Monday and they, pregnant with good intentions, realize that they can only control their lives for so long before their white-knuckled grip starts to slip and they fall right back into their mess, throwing grace out with the bathwater.

The grace refusers wear martyr masks. They're the people who have an extremely hard time accepting free coffee bought by the people in the car in front of them in the drive-through. They bend backwards so far in a gumbyesque fashion that their heads end up in their asses. They say things like, "oh, save it for someone who really needs it," or "I couldn't possibly" and "I'll be okay (wearing a wounded expression) but thanks so much anyway!" They're not secure enough in who they are to be able to plant both feet firmly on the ground to receive that much-needed bear hug. They crumple and slink around, hunched over and pathetic, desperate for others to stroke their martyrdom.

I've been both a grace abuser and a grace refuser. Honestly, I felt much better about myself being a grace refuser. I felt stronger and more authentic, like I was doing the world a huge favor by not taking any handouts. At least when I was a grace abuser, I put in some sort of effort to accept grace. By refusing it, I simply became even more self-centred despite my seemingly selfless outlook on grace. It looks selfless on the outside but because I refused grace, I simply got stuck in my mess. We all shit the bed, but grace refusers just sit in it, reeking like death. People come to visit us, offering us buckets of water and soap but we refuse their help, reassuring them that, "I'll be okay, but thanks so much anyway!" Time goes by and we realize that we are alone and we wonder why.

It's the great paradox: grace is free but it takes an insurmountable amount of strength to receive it. Not strong by white-knuckling self-control, no, and not independent self-absorbed "strength" where we assume we "don't need anything from anyone." I'm talking about the strength that comes from acknowledging that sometimes, we need. It's so easy to puff our chests out in hot-headed pride and refuse help and sure, we'd "be okay" for a while. But by pushing everyone away, we'll end up awfully lonely.

There's a third category of people and this is where I want to be: grace believers. The word belief comes from the term, "by life" which essentially implies that a belief is not stagnant but dynamic--something that is lived out. Grace believers are strong enough to acknowledge that we need, and then we clean house and move forward. And because we know how to receive grace and then walk in it, we will then be able to hand it out to others. All we can do is hope that the people we give it to will be strong enough to believe in it too.