A man came to our church the other day who had been arrested, tried, and convicted for stealing from churches. Over the course of our conversation, through a deluge of tears, he confessed that he relived these sins almost every single day of his life. He admitted his embarrassment. He acknowledged that since his release from prison, he couldn’t go back to any church in the area because of his shame. Despite any healing that he’d received in the Word, the old scars seemed to shine bright like livid, white worms spelling out, “Church Thief.”
“This is what I am,” he said.
“This is what you were,” I replied.
As I placed my hands on his head, forgave him of his sins, and uttered Luther’s words, “Go, you are free,” he shook almost uncontrollably. For him, justice had been served.
The justice of grace had been meted out upon him. He had been hit with the flat side of the cross. Recognizing his sins, weeping in shame, he crawled to the very place from which he had stolen. And then, he realized that he had now been stolen. He had been offered relief in the midst of the maelstrom that his life had become. And that was a treasure he couldn’t let go.
So, what is it about abortion that causes such malignant withholding of grace? Why do we have a tendency to make this sin so much greater than others? Why do we spy on these people with the eyeglass of the Law when in some cases they’ve clearly been beaten over the head with that eyepiece?
Sin. Its vile head is reared in all of our lives. It is that thing that throws us down, naked and dirty at the foot of the Savior. It causes us to wretch and pull away from God. Luther says this in the Augsburg Confession XX:
“It is taught among us that although almighty God has created and still preserves nature, yet sin is caused in all wicked men and despisers of God by the perverted will.”
There is no hierarchy of sin—it is what it is. At times, we are the ones, who by our own perverted will, lower others down into the echelons of villainy. We are the ones who look at the tax collector and say, “Thank God that I’m not like him.”
In John 8, as Jesus stared down at the adulterous woman with mercy, His eyes did not narrow condemnation and His mouth did not betray. He simply said, “Open your eyes, dear, there are no stones flying here.” The justice meted out on Jesus was the death of our sins—even the death of that aborted baby.
Where else can she turn? She has stolen from the Church one who might have led. But now where else can she run to? Do we “Lift High the Cross” or “Lift High Her Loss?”
The doctrine of grace is jaw-dropping though. That God would choose another murderer (Paul) to be the greatest missionary of all time is amazing. When was the last time we scorned his conversion? The Lord Jesus saw fit to include him in the plans of His grace. And yes, Paul stole some fabulous people from the Church with his murders.
With grace we really see the enormity of the Father’s love. That He would love one such as these is the extent of Jesus’ words in John 3:17. “For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him.” That’s the extension of John 3:16.
Our God is the God of grace and mercy and these gifts are indelibly found in the place that He leaves His Word. The Church is not simply a place where nicely dressed people come to gather for donuts and coffee. It is the place where the church thief and the abortive mother come to hear, “I forgive you all your sins in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.” It is the place where divine justice is truly meted out in His ironic way. It is GRACE we lift up as God pulls them from their sins. It is GRACE that consumes the soul of the penitent. It is GRACE that consumed us so that we might not relive our sins because God has forgotten them. “As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12).
To the church thief, the murderer, and yes even to a sinner as bad as you and me, Christ says, “Go, you are free.”
Rev. Matthias is Associate Pastor at Trinity Lutheran Church, Davenport, Iowa, husband of Sarah, and father of Sam.