All Sufficient Grace for Even Me
Dave Faust
On an arid Arabian mountainside, a shepherd took a hard look at himself and asked, "Who am I to be a leader?" After all, he wasn't a good public speaker, and his hot temper sometimes got him into trouble—including one time in the past when he killed a man who was mistreating one of his countrymen. Was God's grace sufficient for Moses?
Centuries later a king watched while his subjects gave money for a massive building project, and he asked, "Who am I, and who are my people, that we should be able to give as generously as this?" His past was a mixture of great love for God mingled with grave faults—sexual sin, a broken family. Was God's grace sufficient for David?
Somewhere near the Sea of Galilee the disciples quarreled among themselves over which one of them was the greatest. The truth? None of them was very great. One was an impulsive man who often blurted out ill-advised opinions; three times, he even denied knowing Christ. Two stormy-tempered brothers revealed their ambitions when they requested high-ranking kingdom positions. Before becoming part of the group, one of them had held a job most people considered the work of traitors and cheats, and another was known for his doubts. Was God's grace sufficient for Peter, James, John, Matthew, and Thomas?
Outside a Samaritan village a woman with a checkered past began the humdrum task of drawing water from a well. She had been married five times, then lived with another man out of wedlock. Was God's grace sufficient for the woman at the well?
Filled with hostility, a proud religious leader tried to stamp out Christian faith. But later he became a believer and devoted his life to missionary service. Was God's grace sufficient for Paul?
Somewhere today a child feels unloved and insecure—and wonders if there really is a God who cares. Somewhere a senior citizen stirs his coffee and ponders the things he would have done differently if only he'd known then what he knows now.
Somewhere a new believer feels deep pangs of guilt as he realizes the depth of his sin and the strength of his old habits. And someone who's been a Christian for years feels amazed at the still-powerful tug of secret sins like arrogance, lust, selfishness, and worry.
Somewhere a prisoner sits alone in a cell, regretting his crimes and unsure about his future.
Somewhere a preacher drives home from church, suffering silently because deep in his heart he knows all too well that he doesn't always live up to everything he said in today's sermon.
Somewhere a parent ponders the painful realization that her inadequacies and mistakes—even well-intentioned ones—have made life harder for her children.
Somewhere a teenager cries herself to sleep as she remembers what she did last weekend.
Somewhere a group of mourners gather at a funeral home while unspoken questions fill their minds—"Did my loved one know how much she meant to me? Did I do enough to show her my appreciation?"
Guilt is a powerful emotion and a legal reality. But thanks to our heavenly Father, the misery of guilt can be replaced by the marvel of grace. Far more than a list of rules we've failed to keep, the Bible overflows with glorious gifts we do not deserve. A blood-stained cross. An empty tomb. Slate-clearing forgiveness. New birth. The Holy Spirit's power to change and grow.
And from the throne-room of Heaven the Father's voice resounds: "My grace is sufficient . . . for you."
This column first appeared in The Lookout on Mar 16, 1997.