redemption for cockroaches

Terry: I feel like a cockroach. That is, if cockroaches are capable of making mistakes that blow apart the world they live in.

Kate: Well if you're a cockroach...then what does that make me?

Terry: Dangerous.

- Bandits




Grace is such a mind-blowing concept. I love that quote from Bandits (well, okay, you got me - I really love everything about that movie, including staring at Bruce Willis for two hours...) because I know that feeling so well. The screw-up. The massive one. The one where you wonder if you've finally crossed the moral point of no return and become, in effect, unforgivable. Unlovable. We imagine God ticking off that final tally mark on our score sheet of wrongdoings, or perhaps just simply, calmly turning His back to this train wreck we have single-handedly orchestrated--abandoning us for good. We know how grace is supposed to work and what it's supposed to mean, but in our hearts we still believe that there is a measuring stick, a sin gradient that it is possible to rise so high on that grace no longer applies.

It's only natural, really. That is how humanity operates. We each have a personal threshold for offense and, eventually, a breaking point. Maybe you could forgive your boyfriend/girlfriend if they lied to you, but not if they cheated. Or maybe you could forgive your mother if she verbally abused you, but not if she physically hurt you. Inside our hearts, we draw a line in the sand and say, "This far and no farther. This is where my grace runs out."

In my nonfiction class, we read a book called The Adversary, in which a man named Jean-Claude Romand lied to his entire family for 18 years and then, when they were about to discover his secrets, killed them all--wife, children, parents. He tried to kill himself too, but survived and was sentenced to life in prison. The book ends with Romand telling the author that he had become a Christian, that he had given his life to Jesus and was forgiven of his sins. What are we to think about such a man?

It's one thing to read about people like David and Paul in the Bible and "forgive" them. Yes, they killed men and persecuted the church, but God redeemed them. We are happy for David and Paul and believe that their conversion was sincere. If we are totally honest, though, I think there's a little voice inside us that adds, "And besides, it wasn't my husband he killed. It wasn't my child." We are able to forgive them because their stories seem too long ago and too far removed to hit home in any sort of uncomfortable way. But Romand? Jeffrey Dahmer? We know the details of what these men have done. We've seen pictures of their victims. We know it is all too real.

I'll be honest: when I was confronted with Romand's story, my grace for this man ran out. I thought about an eye for an eye. I thought about what must take place in a person to allow them to point a rifle at their five year old son and pull the trigger. I thought, "No. That's too far. There can't be anything but oblivion after that."

And yet, God says that everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.
God says that there is forgiveness for even the worst of sinners.
God says that there is no sin gradient.

What it really comes down to is that we want to be forgiven, but we still can't quite let go of the notion that somehow, some way, we can earn our way to heaven. We still want to know that we are better than someone. That no matter how badly we screw up, at least we aren't that guy. That way, we can keep drawing our sense of worth from ourselves instead of facing the humbling fact that if God's grace is truly sufficient, then we are completely dependent on it. We deserve nothing. We are given everything.

"Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his unlimited patience as an example for those who would believe on him and receive eternal life. Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory for ever and ever. Amen." - 1 Timothy 1:15-17