I've Grown Accustomed to His Grace

Scott Shelton is one gracious guy. Scott is a fellow staff member at my congregation – specifically, the Director of Family Life Ministries at Zionsville Presbyterian Church. He also happens to be roughly my height and my build, although my body is increasingly becoming what that small boy used to call Mrs. Butterworth’s Syrup in the TV ads: thickerer.

About five years ago I noticed that a beautiful navy blue blazer was hanging just behind Scott’s office door, alongside his pastoral robe. I own a navy blue blazer, too – it’s a standard wardrobe accessory for the smartly dressed male pastor – but mine has clearly seen better days. When I volunteered that information one day, Scott perked up. “You can borrow mine any time you want.” “Really?” I said. “Of course,” he answered.

Wow. That was a gracious offer. Guys, of course, typically don’t borrow clothes from other guys. But maybe I would wear Scott’s blue blazer after all. You know, until I went out and bought a new one for myself. Just once, on a Sunday morning.

First, I re-sought Scott’s permission. “Are you sure this is OK? I’ll make sure absolutely nothing happens to it.” As it turned out, his jacket fit me better than my own. It looked so nice on me that I decided to borrow it again. And then again. And suddenly I realized that I was no longer jumping through the hoop of even asking for it.

I would arrive on a Sunday morning, sans coat, and hope (OK, expect), that the blue blazer would be hanging there behind the door. A couple of times Scott has come to church on a Sunday expecting the same thing. I’ve been tempted to say something like, “Oh, so you’re going to be wearing our jacket for the first hour, and I can put it on after that?” On every occasion, Scott has been exceedingly gracious.

Fast-forward to the present. I have now worn the blue blazer to several weddings outside the church. And to a couple of speaking engagements. And on a few trips to other states. And to Turkey, Greece, Germany, Holland, and Romania. But who’s keeping track? The other day my wife said to me, “Honey, is that Scott Shelton’s jacket hanging in our closet?” Oh, yeah. I should probably get that back to him. Soon.

What has happened over the past five years? Like Henry Higgins in My Fair Lady, I haven’t merely grown accustomed to Scott’s face. I’ve grown accustomed to his grace. At first his generosity seemed amazing and surprising.You would really let me do that? But gradually, imperceptibly, I began to take Scott’s kindness for granted. Of course he will let me wear his blue blazer. That’s just what Scott…does.

The parallels to my relationship with God are stunning. When I first learned that God offers his love and grace to me, I couldn’t believe it. I mean I literallycouldn’t believe it. There had to be a catch. Why would God care about my misguided life? What would prompt him to invest time and energy in my future? How could there be a never-ending reservoir of hope and good will in God’s character that would call me, again and again, to imitate his Son who died for me?

After choosing to believe that God was entirely serious about blessing me, I was overcome with grief the first few times I disappointed him. God, is our relationship finished, or can we still walk together? It’s hard to overstate the wonder of discovering his forgiveness.

But soon enough I grew accustomed to God’s forgiveness. I became accommodated to his grace. I stopped feeling the sense of wonder and gratitude that had permeated the earliest days of my life with Christ. Would God continue to love me, even if I should obstinately make decisions that would break his heart? Well, sure. That’s just what God…does.

And it’s that attitude that kills the spiritual life. Human beings have the unimaginable privilege of enjoying God’s amazing grace. But God’s love and forgiveness are not entitlements. We cannot presume upon them, else the very capacity within us to receive such love and forgiveness begins to die. All we can do – humbly, and with a sense of brokenness and wonder, just as did when we first heard that God might truly care for us – is to lay ourselves before him and to say “Thank you.”

Just this last week I brought Scott’s blue blazer back to the office and hung it behind his door. “Thank you,” I said. “It has meant so much that you’ve let me borrow this so many times.” Scott was his usual gracious self. “Any time, Glenn,” he said.

I'm thinking of asking Scott something else one of these days. Is there any chance I could borrow your car this weekend?