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The concept of grace is wonderful until you begin to examine its very personal consequences.

I had a conversation with a young person recently who, in the midst of a personal crisis, felt the betrayal of confidence of a friend. This betrayal caused deep hurt to the point of contempt. From that moment, my young friend would no longer speak to the individual and the relationship began to grow deep roots of bitterness.

Now a quick glimpse of the situation might cause some of us to provide simplistic counsel — “Hey, forgive, make things right, offer grace.” But, if we were honest, we could probably admit to carrying on our own unsettled relationships. Over time we allow the passion of conflict to dull, but the truth of the matter is we tend to avoid conflict, leaving broken relationships perpetually unattended and unresolved.

Here is where our definition of grace is in conflict with the grace modelled by Christ. When it costs us little, we extend grace liberally. Like the store clerk who places eggs on top of your loaf of fresh bread, the distracted driver who cuts you off unintentionally, the young person dressed “inappropriately” for church — frustrating, but harmless. Given a little effort, we come to terms with these acts as temporary insanity, youthful immaturity, lack of experience, or unintentional. We forgive, forget, move on, extend another chance, all in the name of grace.

The question I would like us to consider is this: Is grace “grace” if we feel someone deserves it? Doesn’t this miss the true nature of grace as modelled by Christ?

If we aren’t cautious, we can gut grace to its most elemental, superficial base and lose the awesomeness of its magnitude. The grace I observe in the gospels is one that cost everything, offered to those who could never merit such sacrifice. We received what could never be earned and could only come as a result of grace, His undeserved grace.

It’s easy to extend grace to those who we feel are deserving of a second chance. But what about those who have hurt us deeply, perhaps with life-long ramifications? Is this not where real grace by its very nature ought to step in? That same grace extended to us through Christ?

My young friend was disturbed when I mentioned extending grace because she believed that she had done so, and extending more would be unreasonable. I feel for her because deep hurt can grip us, bind us, and deny us our peace.

Grace, real grace, comes at a price and a sacrifice. But real grace is also what redeems us.

Is there someone you need to extend grace — real grace — to?

Just a thought …

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By Ben Lowell