half-a**ed grace

Then the king said to Joab, “Behold now, I grant this; go, bring back the young man Absalom.” And Joab fell on his face to the ground and paid homage and blessed the king. And Joab said, “Today your servant knows that I have found favor in your sight, my lord the king, in that the king has granted the request of his servant.” So Joab arose and went to Geshur and brought Absalom to Jerusalem. And the king said, “Let him dwell apart in his own house; he is not to come into my presence.” So Absalom lived apart in his own house and did not come into the king's presence. (2 Samuel 14:21-24 ESV)

Half-assed grace.

That’s what I’d really like to call this story (what a sermon title!).

I would like to see it as the heading over this story in a Bible someday.

I know such a label may offend the sensibilities of some, even keeping some from reading this post (which is, of course, why I employed assterisks).

Would that we were all as deeply offended at its practice.

Absalom’s story is certainly a sordid one, and most would dare say that in the end he got what he deserved (which is generally and naturally what we want for everyone else). But setting aside his calculating, manipulative, fratricidal and patricidal ways (we all have our flaws, after all), you can’t help but sympathize with his frustration at being summoned back from exile by his father only to still be held at arm’s length. So he’s back, but not. Bad kingdom mojo.

It is as if the prodigal son’s father, rather than seeing him while still far off and running to greet him, sent a servant to summon him home, and then another to escort him upon his return to a rented room on another man’s estate without ever even making eye contact. For two years. No ring, no robe, no sandals, no feast. And I just bet the older brother would have loved to carry out the assignment.

We are all quite good at half-assed grace, aren’t we? Perhaps because, deep down, this is what we really think we're getting from our Father. On a good day.

And so such "grace" comes quite naturally. And it even feels, well, right. After all, make this business of grace and forgiveness too easy and we only enable others, only make it easier for them to repeat the same patterns, right? This will help teach them or at least appropriately punish them. It’s their just desserts – in fact they deserve far worse. They should be glad we even thought to summon them.

But the reality is that in practicing such “grace” we only make ourselves feel better (“I am so magnanimous!”) while at the same time protecting ourselves and holding ourselves over others.

If only David had been able to show “God’s kindness” to his own exiled son as he did to Jonathan’s son Mephibosheth. How then might this story have ended? Note the similarities. Both in exile, clouded in shame. Both summoned by the king. One comes right before his throne, sees his face, protests his unworthiness, and is given a place at David’s table. Such full orbed, scandalous, extreme grace! But David’s own son who shared that table with Mephibosheth is kept outside the gates. So which son are you? Which Father do you really believe is yours? And which scenario do you find yourself reenacting?

Yes, there are seasons when “tough love” is in order. “As many as I love I rebuke and chasten.” But half-assed grace is always out of season and a betrayal of God’s heart – and our own.