Granting Grace

Admitting my ignorance

    Several months ago, a life-changing thought came to me: I don’t know it all. I can’t keep up with the enormous amount of information being produced every day, every hour, every minute. Therefore, I don’t have to have an opinion on every controversial issue, major and minor, that’s tearing our country apart. Living in a democracy, it’s important for me to learn enough to vote wisely and to speak up or take action when God leads me to do so. But I can’t have a well-informed, up-to-date, rock-solid knowledge of every single subject. My human mind is far too limited for that.

    That little thought was so liberating! As an American who has the right to vote, the right to speak freely, the right to protest against my own government, I’ve grown up in a world where I’ve felt pressured by others, and by myself, to know all the pros and cons in every situation so that I can make a fully informed choice.

    But I don’t have to do that. I can listen compassionately and with a biblical mindset to different viewpoints and, when appropriate, say, “I don’t know who’s right and who’s wrong. I can see the good and the bad on both sides.” The pressure is off.

    I’m thankful that that thought came when it did. I’ve had several months to apply it, to retrain my thinking, to refrain from making judgments in certain situations. To be comfortable with saying, “I don’t know.”

Facing issues raised by the pandemic

    Then came the coronavirus pandemic. How am I to live in this nation of “stay at home” supporters vs. “reopen the country” rebels? As usual I can see both sides. I don’t want my loved ones who are vulnerable to dying from COVID-19 to be recklessly exposed to it. Therefore, everyone should stay home.

    But that’s leading to increased poverty, increased scarcity, and increased hunger. It’s leading to an increase in mental health issues even among those who have never struggled with them before. It’s likely to lead to increased deaths from suicide and untreated medical issues. Therefore, everyone should be free to go where they please.

    Which side do I stand on? Neither one. Now more than ever I realize how little I am capable of knowing what’s best for all concerned. Our world hasn’t seen anything like this for more than a century. No one can look at past experience and state with certainty what will work and what will only make it worse.

    So what am I, as a Christian attempting to follow God’s ways, supposed to do?

Granting grace to others

    Grace is the key. As God offered grace to me by sending His Son to die for my sins, I can offer grace to others.

    Locally, I can treat those I encounter every day with dignity and respect. I can wear a mask and maintain a six-foot distance when I’m out in public. I can graciously listen as others express their fears and doubts and anger and opinions without having to inject my own point of view.

    I can reach out to friends via email, text, or phone. I can be mindful of those who are alone or who have been through a recent loss or trauma. I can pray for people I know who are having an especially difficult time with the current restrictions. As I walk through my neighborhood, I can greet others cheerfully, pausing and talking to the ones I know and the ones I don’t know yet, rather than hurrying home to attack the next item on my to-do list.

    On a larger scale, I can pray for God’s grace and peace and comfort for the millions affected by this pandemic. Those who are hospitalized by the coronavirus. Their caregivers. Those who have lost loved ones to COVID-19. The newly unemployed. Those suffering from addiction and other mental health issues. Those who are unable to leave a care center or prison as the illness runs rampant through the buildings. Those who are homebound with an abuser. Those who are seeking spiritual answers in their fear and uncertainty—that they would find the truth in Christ.

    But the most important lesson that I’ve learned from my earlier thought is that I can extend grace to those who have the fearful responsibility of making the decisions that will determine who lives and who dies. Whatever road we follow, whether it’s requiring everyone to continue staying at home or allowing everyone greater freedom, people will die as a direct result. I don’t have to agree with my leaders’ politics or personalities. I don’t have to support their campaigns or overlook their faults.

    But I can graciously obey the orders that apply to me, thanking God that I’m not the one who has to bear the terrible burden of giving those orders (Romans 13:1, Titus 3:1-2, Hebrews 13:17). If I feel led to question them, I can graciously contact those in leadership and present my concerns with humility and gentleness. When talking to others, I can graciously refuse to tear down those in positions of power who will have to live for the rest of their lives with the consequences of every decision that they make. I can graciously assume that they’re concerned about doing what’s best for the country, even when two different politicians present two completely opposite solutions for how to do that. By God’s grace I can pray for them to do what’s best, and trust Him to answer my prayers.

    Yes, I sometimes need to speak up or resist when wrong is being done and abuse is occurring. Yes, there is a time and a place to express my opinion about the issues facing my country. But maybe, just maybe, a better option right now is to admit how little I know about handling a pandemic and to extend grace to those around me and to the politicians who face a complicated and deadly situation, whose decisions will lead to the loss of lives no matter what they do, who bear a burden as heavy as any load that any leader has carried in many years.