John 1:14 “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.”
Stevia. Splenda. Sweet ‘N Low. Equal. Nutrasweet. Sugar substitutes have become familiar commodities in our diet. Some claim to be healthier alternatives more than others, but all share the commonality of providing an alternative to that sweet substance we all love.
Substitutes take the place of what some consider the “real” thing, from sugar to milk to second-string quarterbacks. But there’s another common substitute author Randy Alcorn writes about in The Grace and Truth Paradox. He says the world is full of “slickly marketed grace-substitutes.”
The most predominate grace-substitute in our culture resides under the label of tolerance. Supposedly, the more tolerant we appear, the greater our grace. The truly tolerant accept all behavior (except, of course behavior that doesn’t tolerate bad behavior).
But embracing the low standards of the world should never be confused with grace. Genuine grace doesn’t let people feel comfortable in their sin, and it thrives within the parameters of truth. Tolerance might make us popular, but also—in the end—irrelevant.
Another common substitute for grace, of course, is works. Rather than humbly accepting what Jesus did on the cross to save us, we seek God’s favor through our own efforts. This inevitably leads to legalism and pride in our accomplishments.
The danger of grace-substitutes surfaces when we encounter situations where we really need the grace of God to get through. The false pillars of cultural-definitions of “truth” and other forms of self-righteousness crumble like a house of cards. Fake grace just doesn’t cut it.
Jesus had nothing to do with grace-substitutes. His life displayed the real thing…real grace, real truth. He never compromised to make the call of repentance more palatable. At the same time, he refused to embrace the legalistic ways of the Pharisees. He showed the world what his Father looks like, and he challenges us to do the same.
So let’s be on guard. Let’s not fall for those slickly-marketed substitutes called grace. The more we delve into the riches of God’s unmerited mercy toward us, the less tempted we’ll be to accept powerless imitations.
It’s Stevia for my morning yogurt. But no grace-substitute for my life.