The first adjective is Augustine’s description of grace, while the second is my own, not that I do not also see grace as infinite. What impresses me is however glorious and magnanimous grace may be, it is often offensive – or perhaps an embarrassment – to rational man who reasons that there is no free lunch. If there is something good out there, even from God, you have to work for it.

  Augustine, born in 354 A.D., was one theologian who surely understood the grace of God, and that may be because he understood, and acted upon, the love of God. And also because he understood sin. The three concepts were the basis of his theology – God’s love, sinful humanity, infinite grace. They were also the grounds for his ethics, which he summed up in one line, Love God and do what you please.

  That proposition is sure to be controversial, whether a class in college or at church, but if one hangs in with the medieval philosopher he will win out. Augustine only needed to point out that if one truly loves God he will be pleased to do only those things that please God!

  Augustine’s consummate passion for God led him also to create that glorious line: You made us for yourself and our hearts find no peace until they rest in thee. As intellectual as he was, he warned against relying on reason alone for answers. Reason, which is but a means, must be sanctified by the Spirit of God. The Christian must walk by faith. He insisted that the Christian virtues of faith, hope, and love excel over the rationalistic virtues of prudence, temperance, and fortitude, which he saw as prideful. To Augustine true religion was a matter of practicing the true virtues.

  He came to see grace in terms of infinity as he increasingly came to realize the unfathomble depths of his own sins. His "sense of sin" came to be what he saw deep within himself – selfish pride, carnality, and a diseased will. By the time he was 32 he was "sick and tormented" by the "ugly sins" of his youth. As he engaged in a kind of self-analysis he came to see that he did wrong things simply because he found satisfaction in doing what was forbidden – such as stealing pears from his neighbor’s orchard. He didn’t steal the pears because he was hungry, but for the sheer joy of stealing.

  This passion to rebel against authority was a clue to him as to the nature of sin – and to the depths of degradation that it can take. He also came to realize sin in terms of intellectual arrogance. He saw in himself the arrogant assumption that with a little time he could unlock the mysteries of the universe!

  In all this soul-searching Augustine was positioning himself to understand grace. He at last came to see that sinful man is totally helpless before God. He has no choice but to rely upon the love and mercy of God, which is grace in that it is freely given. Out of a conversion experience he was confronted with what I call a "purple passage." Seated on a park bench, he heard the voice of a child say "Pick up and read." Near him on the bench was a Bible open to Romans 13. He read those lines – verses 13-14 – that were to change his life.

  While Augustine had long been a believer at this time, he enjoyed no peace until in his heart he "put on the Lord Jesus Christ." This is when he was baptized. He now realized that while the sinner is helpless to deal with his sinful condition, he is to respond to God’s grace by putting on Christ and renouncing his sins. He eventually became bishop of Hippo in Northern Africa, a post he held for 44 years. He became a theolgian of significant influence, among Roman Catholics and Protestants alike.

  While he always believed in the deity of Christ, it was to God that he directed his praise and devotion. He glorified God through Christ. He was obsessed with the glory and majesty of God, his sovereignty, his role as creator, and his unfathomable love. To Augustine all this meant grace, God’s infinite grace.

  That man should be offended by this infinite grace says even more about his fallen nature. It is not so much that grace is incomprehensible to us, but that it offends our sinful pride. Jesus makes this embarrassingly clear in the story of the tax collector and the Pharisee in Luke 18. If we play it honest, we find ourselves identifying with the Pharisee, who was clearly politically and morally correct. He did all the things that good religious people do – went to church, kept the rules, was generous with his money. And he didn’t do the sinful things that sinners like tax collectors do – extortion, injustice, adultery.

  The role of the despised tax collector is understandably offensive to religious sensitivities. In desperation he beat his breast in agony and cried out, "God be merciful to me a sinner!" He didn’t badmouth the Pharisee, nor did he make excuses for himself. He realized his utter helplessness before God and sued for mercy.

  In telling this story Jesus said that it was the tax collector who was "justified" – made right with God – rather than the Pharisee. It is a grace story. But we can’t see it until like Augustine – and like the tax collector -- we can see the ugliness of our own sins.

  To compound the offensiveness of the story, Jesus adds this conundrum: "Everyone who exalts himself will be abased, and he who humbles himself will be exalted." Exaltation through humiliation! It doesn’t square with the world out there. Nice guys come in last. But Jesus says that’s the way to be first – "the first shall be last, and the last shall be first" (Matthew 20:16). It is irrational, and it is offensive to common sense.

  The grace that is both infinite and offensive is the grace that saves. Thank God, there are free lunches.

  One of our subscribers to these email essays who lives in Canada wrote that he was coming our way on his trip to enroll his daughter in Abilene Christian University, driving all the way, and that he might drop by. It was uncertain what day he might be here. When they showed, all four of them – and they had already been to Abilene -- Ouida had enough leftovers in the frig to stir up a meal. While complete strangers to each other, we saw how intimate cyberspace can be. We were friends after all – and we feel that way about all of you. We were prepared to bed them for the night, even if some ended up on the floor, but no, they were driving all the way back to Canada, day and night, taking turns driving and sleeping. The thought of it made Ouida and me tired, but we reminded ourselves that they are young – and that we used to do the same thing!

  As I wrote the last sentence Ouida came in from having had lunch with the girls. Afterwards they went to the hospital to visit with one of their number, now long incapacitated. She was not in her room. Upon inquiry they learned that she had died a few hours before. They huddled and prayed, and thanked God for the beautiful life that had passed on – a dear sister who badly needed to go. Ouida and I notice as we grow older – old old! – we have as many or more friends and loved ones in the Beyond as we have here. God’s family is both in heaven and on earth. The line between them seems to grow dimmer, and one day will be no more.