Grace: Free, But Not Cheap

We value things more when we pay for them. Grace is something we receive as a gift, not through payment or our own works. Maybe that’s why, in the world of cultural Christianity, cheap grace is so prevalent. Cheap grace is when we use religion to make ourselves feel better, without actually changing anything. When we acknowledge Christ but do not follow him. When we market God for the masses, dilute him so he fits comfortably with our own priorities. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes, it is “forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, communion without confession, absolution without personal confession… Instead of following Christ, let the Christian enjoy the consolations of his grace!”

That’s why I love how John writes that Jesus came “full of grace and truth.” The truth is, the sin we commit is wrong, a deep, deep wrong against a perfectly just God. Therefore, the truth is, Jesus had to pay dearly for the grace I receive. “What has cost God much,” Bonhoeffer writes, “cannot be cheap for us.” I value scribbles with a crayon because I know my kid spent half the morning creating it. I value a gift from Dave because I know he put considerable thought and maybe money into it. How much more do I value Jesus setting aside heaven, sweating blood, enduring the full weight of eternal judgment condensed into those hours on the cross? If someone I knew were to die for me, would it not be priceless?

“Costly grace,” Bonhoeffer goes on to say, “is the treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it a man will gladly go and sell all that he has. … It is the kingly rule of Christ, for whose sake a man will pluck out the eye which causes him to stumble; it is the call of Jesus Christ at which the disciple leaves his nets and follows him… Such grace.. is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life.” And that’s the key: grace is not cheap for me, because I want to give all I have to follow Jesus, and that costs me a lot of things. At times it costs me comfort, outward acclaim, control, self-centered desires. But in it I gain real life, life to the full.

I think about John the Baptist: when his own followers were pointing out that this guy named Jesus was baptizing more people than they were, John said look, this guy is the bridegroom. I’m just his best man. And when I hear his voice, I rejoice greatly—“therefore this joy of mine is now complete.” Have you ever experienced complete joy? When you just felt like nothing else was missing, when you felt completely replete, deeply happy? Does anything we follow bring us that, for more than a passing moment? But Jesus does. Sure, I gain eternal life, countless returns on whatever I’m giving up—but most of all, I gain him. And the more I follow him, the more I see that whatever it costs me is cheap and passing compared to that.