Thoughts from a ragamuffin

The American Church today accepts grace in theory but denies it in practice. We say we believe that the fundamental structure of reality is grace, not works--but our lives refute our faith. By and large, the gospel of grace is neither proclaimed, understood, nor lived. Too many Christians are living in the house of fear and not in the house of love.

It has been probably over six years since I've read Brennan Manning's book, The Ragamuffin Gospel, and I decided tonight to start going through it again. And i was humbled by just how judgemental, pious, and self-righteous I have become. I've turned into one of those Chritians who will pay lip service that God accepts everyone, but I'm the first to turn up my nose at the "big time sinners." I'm only just throught the first chapter, but I feel humble as I sit here.

Of course I believe that we're saved by grace through faith. But my idea of grace seems still to carry some idea of merit. I look at the man sitting next to me at the coffee shop right now, in his tattered biker jacket and his unkept grey hair and I watch my wallet. I don't even consider telling him about my Savior. Maybe, that pious part of me thinks, I should just look for the educated college kids. After all, isn't this man just a lost cause??

Aren't I just a lost cause? Am I not the person who has wasted his money, thrown out a whole bonus to chase fleeting pleasures? Aren't I the same guy who called a customer a "b----" a few months ago and ruined my witness with my coworkers? Wasn't that my voice gossiping about the socially awkward and laughing at their weakness instead of showing them the love of God in humility? Isn't that the same R-rated movie playing over and over in my brain?

It's not that I don't recognize my need for grace. I do. And I'm saved. God had mercy on me. But I think it's the fact that I keep using the word "had" instead of "has." God has mercy on me every day. He puts up with my selfishness, pride, and lust. He puts up with my bad attitude, foul mouth, and rotten temper. My wasted cash, gutter mind, and fair-weathered faith. And yet I still act as if I'm in a position that I've earned the grace God has given me (and yes, I see that "earned grace" is an oxymoron.) And yet, that idea of trying to pull myself along by my bootstraps and work at a sanctification that only God can complete has only made me frustrated and depressed, turned me into the person who Manning quotes in his book who cries out, "Why am I afraid to dance, I who love music and rhythm and grace and song and laughter? Why am I afraid to live, I who love life and the beauty of flesh and the living colors of the earth and sky and sea? Why am I afraid to love, I who love love?" I'm afraid of these things because I'm afraid of failing God. And in that fear, it shows how afraid I am to admit my need--my constant need--for grace.

And when I change my attitude and see my need for grace, I begin to realize the old cliche is true: the ground is level at the foot of the cross. And I think about what Fyodor Dostoyevsky wrote about what Manning calls "the shock and scandal of the gospel of grace." At the last judgement Christ will say to us, "Come, you also! Come, you drunkards! Come, weaklings! Come, children of shame! . . . And the wise and prusent will say, 'Lord, why do you welcome them?' And he will say: 'If I welcome them, you wise men, if I welcome them, you prudent men, it is because not one of them has ever been judged worthy.' And he will stretch out his arms, and we will fall at his feet, and we will cry out sobbing, and then we will understand all, we will understand the Gospel of Grace!

I wish more Christians saw this. That Christ didn't come for those who are perfect, with balanced checkbooks, sober minds, clean fingernails, virgin bodies, and a clean police report. To close with what Manning writes in the intro, the Gospel of Grace is for: the bedraggled, beat-up, and burnt-out. It is for the sorely burdened who are still shifting the heavy suitcase from one hand to the other. It is for the wobbly and weak-kneed who know they don't have it altogether and are too proud to accept the handout of amazing grace. It is for inconsistent, unsteady disciples whose cheese is falling off their cracker. It is for poor, weak, sinful men and women with hereditary faults and limited talents. It is for earthen vessels who shuffle along on feet of clay. It is for the bent and bruised who feel that thir lives are a grave disappointment to God. It is for smart people who know they are stupid and honest disciples who admit they are scalawags. . . it is for anyone who has grown weary and dscouraged along the way.

Okay, I apologize for the length. But I was moved by this book.
C-Dubbs (with apologies to Brennan Manning for all the plagiarism)