This Grace

Recently I read about the experience of a man who had gotten alone with God to find out what God thought of him. We all have our own ideas, and of course we have others’ ideas, about ourselves, but this fellow wanted to know who he was in God’s eyes. He wanted to know the name God had given him. The Lord answered him, as requested, and confirmed his identity.

So I decided to do the same, sort of. I received an astounding response:

Charissa.

Fascinating, hey? Not only did God call me by my name—my real name, I mean—before I was born, so too did my parents! It’s not just a pretty label, it is also who I really am. (I hope you understand what I mean—because not every name or label that we wear is really who we are.)

Charis, in the Greek dictionary, is defined primarily as "that which gives or causes pleasure, delight, or favorable regard." When I looked it up on that day, it didn’t strike me as being particularly meaningful, but yesterday it did.

Yesterday, for some reason, I was overwhelmed by memories of my dealings with a person I will refer to as X. X would have put the pre-apostolic Paul to shame. You know—Pharisee of the Pharisees, blameless according to the law, of the tribe of Benjamin, and so on. My dealings with X over a period of some twenty years or so have brought me to the point that the mere mention of X’s name steals my confidence, because it brings with it a sense of shame. I’m not going to say that I have never erred in these transactions—because I am human—but if you’ve been acquainted with a perfect person, perhaps you know what I mean, a little. Being human turns into a pretty lame excuse.

So there I was, with zero confidence (which makes me lean toward doing some menial task, while avoiding anything that would reveal or relate to my true identity: charis) and rather stuck in attempting to rationalize all this junk. That’s when the Lord reminded me of who I was. (Remember, your identity is essential to your destiny; it stands to reason that it will come under frequent attack.)

One Bible commentary points out that at various times charis is contrasted with debt, works, and law. If ever anyone exemplified debt, works, or law, it would be X. And that was when the Lord spoke: "It was a lie." "It" was the subtle or blatant statement that I did not and could not bring pleasure or delight; that who I was, was harmful. What could cause more shame than that? But, the Lord said, it was a lie.

It was a lie designed (but not by X) to neutralize my power. If I could be shamed into working harder at being better, charis would be completely lost.

That would be loss indeed, because what would life be without grace?

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