A Prodigal God

     The overarching message of the Bible, if a library of such disparate books can be said to have a single message, is the story of God’s grace toward the world. In creation, in the symbol of the rainbow after the flood, in the call of Abraham, in the deliverance of the Israelites from bondage in Egypt, in the giving of the land of promise, in sustaining the nation of Israel through its many ups and downs, in the ministry of the prophets, in the return of the people from exile, in the birth and life and ministry of Jesus, in his death and resurrection, and in the establishment of the church as the new vehicle for the proliferation of the message—in all these things and more, grace is the underlying theme.

     And here in the letter to the Ephesians, the writer provides a metaphor that captures the essence of grace as well as or better than any other description in the Bible. He says, “But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which [God] loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved” (vv. 4–5). We were dead through our trespasses, but God made us alive together with Christ. What a beautiful picture of the salvation we enjoy as a result of God’s unfathomable grace!

     It’s possible, of course, to literalize or quantify this metaphor until it loses its zing. Undoubtedly we have all heard preachers or evangelists tell us exactly what it means to be dead in our transgressions—that we are utterly sinful and deserving of hell apart from Christ, and that we must follow their precise instructions to be saved from that fate. We have seen the acronym for grace, “God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense,” which turns the mystery of the atonement into a crass exchange in which Jesus must take upon himself all the sins of the world and then die abandoned by God in order for us to receive God’s forgiveness and love. As though God were a miser who must be cajoled and begged until God grudgingly loosens the divine grip on salvation, and only relents when God’s Son is the one who does the cajoling and begging. In other words, pretty much the opposite of true grace.

     The writer of the Ephesian letter doesn’t go down that road. He does not portray the Divine as in any way reluctant to forgive or save. Rather, he describes God as “rich in mercy” and as having “great love” for us “even when we were dead through our trespasses.” God is no miser; rather, God lavishes grace upon us when we least deserve it. God is far more like the father in the parable of the prodigal son who exuberantly (and foolishly, some would say) showers his returning son with love than like the bitter, parsimonious older brother. In fact, one would not be wrong to describe the Divine One as a prodigal God.

     What is the purpose of all this grace being extravagantly splashed around? According to the writer of Ephesians, it is so that God can show us even more grace! It is “so that in the ages to come [God] might show the immeasurable riches of [God’s] grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus” (v. 7). Grace leads to more grace in an ever-widening circle that will stretch through eternity.

     The writer is quick to remind us that the grace by which we are saved “is not [our] own doing; it is the gift of God—not the result of works, so that no one may boast” (vv. 8–9). Grace does not come as a result of anything we have done or can do. It is pure gift. But in a beautiful way, grace produces works of righteousness and justice in our lives. Indeed, the writer proclaims this to be our purpose: “We are... created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life” (v. 10). We cannot earn God’s favor through doing; God’s favor is already ours through our simply being. But when grace comes like a gentle spring shower, it seeps into the soil of our souls and brings forth beautiful flowers and nourishing fruit.

     That’s the way it’s supposed to be, because that’s the way our prodigal God has designed it. So let us receive that gracious rain and allow it to do its life-giving work in and through us this Lenten season and beyond.