Excerpt from All Is Grace, by Brennan Manning

My life is a witness to vulgar grace—a grace that amazes as it offends. A grace that pays the eager beaver who works all day long the same wages as the grinning drunk who shows up at ten till five. A grace that hikes up the robe and runs breakneck toward the prodigal reeking of sin and wraps him up and decides to throw a party no ifs, ands, or buts. A grace that raises bloodshot eyes to a dying thief's request—"Please, remember me" —and assures him, "You bet!" A grace that is the pleasure of the Father, fleshed out in the carpenter Messiah, Jesus the Christ, who left His Father's side not for heaven's sake but for our sakes, yours and mine.

This vulgar grace is indiscriminate compassion. It works without asking anything of us. It's not cheap. It's free, and as such will always be a banana peel for the orthodox foot and a fairy tale for the grown-up sensibility. Grace is sufficient even though we huff and puff with all our might to try to find something or someone it cannot cover.

Grace is enough. He is enough. Jesus is enough.”

Feet Fitted Peace

If I were to describe my spiritual life metaphorically, I’ve lived most of it as a line dance with the following sequence of steps:

Step 1: Attend Sunday School, followed by the worship service.

Step 2: Offer any skills and abilities I have that may assist with Sunday School or worship (i.e. teaching, chancel choir, piano accompaniment, Scripture reading, etc.)

Step 3: Give financially during the offering.

Step 4: Spend the work week trying to positively impact the world.

Step 5: Devote all extra time and energy to church programs and ministries

Step 6: Spend personal devotional time in prayer and Bible study.

Step 7: Wallow in fear and shame for all of the steps I have to skip over or fail to execute well.

Then, like any line dance, when the sequence of steps was complete, I started back over.  With never a moment’s pause.

The song on endless repeat.

The music constantly accelerating.

The more that I did, the more that I was asked to do.  It felt like I could never do enough.  I could never be enough.

Deep down I harbored a terrible, nagging doubt: “Is this really all there is?”

— Leslie Gotwald, Swan Song Tango

Meditation:

What is your reaction to the term ‘vulgar grace?’ Does it seem true? Does it bother you?

In what way do you identify with the drunk, the prodigal, and the dying criminal?