There’s no such thing as a free lunch. That mind-set permeates our culture. For example, here in the South, we are taught never to return a dish empty after someone gives us food. So in order to keep my neighbors from reciprocating every time I share a treat, I have resorted to delivering my cookies (or whatever) on a paper plate or in a plastic storage bag. Otherwise they give me something back, when I gave them the food to begin with because I’ve made too much. I don’t need more. The recipients of my treats have trouble accepting other small acts of kindness as well. Recently one neighbor needed a ride home after she dropped off her car to be serviced; the next day she left half of an apricot-nectar cake on my steps. Last week I gave another neighbor a lift to exercise class; she met me with a biscotti and a chocolate. We seem to need to balance the scales.
Perhaps in a much larger and more serious way, this is the source of my discomfort with Lent. We’re told that we don’t have to earn God’s favor, yet we take up Lenten disciplines that involve either denying ourselves (a negative act) or doing some act of charity or service (a positive act). Either way, I am doing something, not resting in God’s grace. I measure my performance and feel better about myself when I remember my resolve and worse about myself when I don’t. The point of Lenten exercises is to focus more fully on Christ—and I end up focusing on me. Obviously I fail Lent. There I go again—grading myself!
Paul reminds us that the initiative and power in our salvation are God’s. Before the law, God reached out to us. Apart from any rules or performance measures, grace guarantees that God accepts us.