David Morris

Full of grace

In the first chapter of quite possibly my favorite book of the Bible (if it weren't for Romans and Hebrews and Haggai and...well, ok, maybe I'll stick with "favorite Gospel"), John records his inspired eyewitness testimony about the Messiah.

One of Christ's distinguishing attributes, the thing which stuck out about Him, was that He was full of grace. The One who had the same glory as the Father, when living as a human, exuded grace in His motives, actions, thoughts; in His work, His play, His ministry; with His family, His friends, His enemies; when He was tired or rested, speaking or listening. In short, John says He was full of grace.

While pondering the remarkable character of the Godman Jesus, I was struck anew by the disparity between His character and mine. Aware of my need to be like Him, I started comparing how much grace I understand and show to the Divine standard of "full."

When the convicting Spirit begins to break the dam of your memory, the ensuing flood is catastrophic. All the times I grimaced angrily (and worse inside) at the Greenville driver who cut me off, or spoke just a little more curtly (as I rolled my eyes in frustration internally) to the person who kept needing help to get logged in at our computer lab, or reacted with greater kindness to the faculty member who thought ahead than to the one who came asking for equipment at the last minute, all those times trickled, then streamed, then gushed into the forefront of my mind.

Whole villages of shoddy thinking were caught in the path. Railroad tracks of selfishness and the string of cars on them disappeared in the swollen current. At last the whole mess began piling up at the stone bridge, the last structure standing defiantly against the dirty, raging waters. Pride shuddered, convulsed, and at last gave way.

And that pride is really what I saw at the heart of it. (i know, i know, you're not surprised.) But I saw it so clearly in those moments.

I don't show grace to people because I don't think they deserve it.
I want grace shown to me because I think I do.

I hope the openness of that confession dulls none of its ugliness. That is nasty, putrid flesh. I know it's me, and I think it could be you, too.

But oh, the contrasting beauty of "full of grace." There is such a winsomeness to the character of our Christ, and that beauty reveals both the raunchy ugliness of pride and the sparkling glory of God.

Oh to be like Thee, oh to be like Thee...stamp Thine own image deep on my heart.

Posted by apelles at July 31, 2003 09:41 AM