The Grace That Saves Us
“When I begin a day—or a task—feeling inadequate, I need to pause and hear You saying: ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My Power is made perfect in weakness.’ The present tense of the verb is highlights the continual availability of Your wondrous grace.”
– Jesus Listens, August 12th
My wife and I used to have two dogs. Boxers. Sadie and Sampson. We started with Sampson, and he was awesome. Then we got Sadie, and everything went downhill fast.
One day, we came home, and it looked like it had snowed inside. They had chewed the couch cushions into a bazillion little white, fluffy pieces. And Sadie was so dumb she didn’t even know she was in trouble. She just got all wiggly and turned in a circle. Sampson, on the other hand, had a pretty good idea they had messed up.
Sadie and Sampson were living in our fenced‑in backyard. And they hated the fence. They wanted to be inside with us, so they saw the fence as a punishment. But what they didn’t understand is that the fence was set in place for their provision and protection, because our house backed up to a main road. Without the fence, they’re roadkill.
One day, I was at work. It was about lunchtime. The woman who was watching our kids gave me a call and she said, “Hey, I’m looking out in the backyard and I haven’t seen Sadie and Sampson all morning. I think you might need to come home.”
I hustled home and saw that I’d left the gate open that morning. I’m sure what happened is that Sadie saw the open gate and then said to Sampson, “Hey, Sampson, it’s open. We should go for this.” Sampson was probably thinking, No, we really shouldn’t. The fence and the gate are for our provision and protection. The master loves us, so that’s why he has put the boundaries around us.
But she nuzzled her way through, opened the gate, and he followed her out into the road. Once free of their boundaries, you know they stood in the front yard and thought, Sweet, no more fence. No more rules. The man can’t hold me down. We can go left, we can go right, we can pee in the neighbor’s flowers. We can chase cats. We can do anything we want, baby. Freedom!
But Sadie and Sampson would soon learn that while rebellion feels like fun and freedom, it is not.
So I started looking for them, driving around my neighborhood holding a piece of cheese out the window. Why? Because they like cheese. So, like a goober, I’m driving around the hood with a piece of cheese hanging out the window shouting, “Saaaadiiieeee, Saaaaampsoooon.”
That’s about when my neighbors flagged me down and asked, “Have you lost your dogs?’ Frustrated, I answered, “Nah, Nanna and Grandpa got out today. But they love cheese!” Of course I lost my dogs.
An hour later Gretchen called. “I found them! I found them!”
“Sweet. Where are they?”
“They’re on the internet.”
“What? Huh?”
Turns out somebody found the dogs and took them to the pound, and someone at the pound took their pictures and put them on their website so people like me could identify them.
I drove downtown, found the dog pound, walked in, and told the lady, “I’m here to pick up my dogs.” My first problem, she informed me, was that we’d failed to put tags or collars on them. It was clear she was not a fan of someone like me.
We walked into the back, where the kennel area was. The little doggy jails. Sadie and Sampson were incarcerated in the seventh kennel back. Sadie saw me, and she lit up, like, “Hey, where have you been? We’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Sampson didn’t even look at me. He walked to the back of the kennel, tucked his tail, and sat down.
Rebellion, though it feels like freedom, always and only leads to death or bondage. Having found my dogs, I followed the lady back to the front desk to fill out the paperwork. “Okay, what do I need to do?”
Without pause, she said, “$290 for each one.” And I blurted out, “What?” My hands were pretty well tied. What was I going to do? Walk back to the kennels and explain to Sadie and Sampson, “Hey, I can get you out, but here’s the thing—you owe me $290 each”?
Now look at it from the dogs’ perspective. They have incurred a debt that they cannot pay. Ever. They are unable to repay the debt that they, by their own sin, have incurred. Even if they were to come to me and say, “Okay, master, tell you what, here’s the deal. You get us out of here, and from now on, we’ll be perfect. Best dogs ever. We’ll fetch your slippers. Bring you the paper. Teach the kids to walk and talk and add and subtract. We’ll even clean up our own mess.”
Well, while that would be great, they would still have one insurmountable problem: the debt. And their good behavior will do nothing to pay down that debt. So I said to the nice and understanding lady, “Ma’am, that’s almost 600 bucks.” She nodded knowingly. “What happens if I don’t pay?”
“Well, then fill out some paperwork and put them up for adoption.”
“What?”
“You’ll turn over ownership, legally, to Duval County.”
“Well, what do y’all do with them? I mean, do you euthanize them or what?”
And she shakes her head. “No, no. We bathe them, shampoo them, clip their toenails. Then we’d put them up for adoption on the website.” I look over my left shoulder and a big poster is hanging on the wall. It said, “Special today, adopt a dog for $30.”
So I looked at the girl and said, “Alright, I wanna relinquish ownership of my dogs.” She looked at me like I was the devil incarnate. I filled out some paperwork. She notarized it and handed it back to me and I took my piece of paper, took about three steps toward the door, then turned around and came right back to her face and said, “Hi, ma’am, I would like to adopt some dogs, please.”
And she smugly shook her head. “You can’t adopt your own dogs.” I held up the paper she’d just signed.
“Ma’am, I have a notarized piece of paper from Duval County saying that I don’t own any dogs. I wanna adopt two, a male, a female. Preferably boxers. You got anything like that? I’m going to call them Sadie and Sampson.” I gave them thirty dollars for each and legally adopted my two errant, rebellious, sinning dogs back into my family. I redeemed my dogs.
Rebellion always feels like freedom, but ends in bondage and a debt you can’t pay. Not in ten thousand lifetimes.
And yet God, rich in mercy and full of grace, because He loves you, pays your debt and forgives your sin. He redeems you. That’s the gospel. By grace we have been saved, through faith. Amen.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Joby Martin is the founder and lead pastor of The Church of Eleven22 in Jacksonville, Florida and the author of Run Over by the Grace Train. Since launching the church in 2012, he has led a movement for all people to discover and deepen a relationship with Jesus Christ. In addition to providing The Church of Eleven22 with vision and leadership, Pastor Joby is an author, national and international preacher, and teacher. He has been married to his wife, Gretchen, for over twenty years and they have a son, JP and a daughter, Reagan.
