Two-Way Love and Grace

In one of my seminary classes we were asked to read a book called Grace In Practice by Paul Zahl. In this book he demurred from the usual definition of grace as “unmerited favor.” Instead, he defined it as “one-way love.”

I was struck by this definition because I, too, felt there was something not quite right with the notion of grace as unmerited favor. As many note, the Bible doesn’t even use the word “merit” (it speaks of “works” and “boasting” but not merit). So I was sympathetic to a better formulation of the idea of grace, especially one that more clearly captured its relational character.

Zahl’s idea seemed to be a step in the right direction. But it also did not quite ring true. It even seemed a bit creepy and stalkerish. Finally I hit on the notion of grace as “love that goes first,” love that takes the initiative in offering a relationship.

I believe this view captures the biblical notion of grace better than any other definition I’ve run across. For one thing, it removes the question of merit from consideration. The question of motivation drops out of the picture. Why does God want to seek and save the lost? Does it matter? He just does. We don’t ask whether the lost deserve to be sought out because that’s not the issue. Instead, we see God’s initiative that offers relationship to those who were not seeking it in any way, who (as Romans says) were yet sinners.

However, this grace that seeks and saves the lost is an offer of relationship. The offer is on God’s side, but it is incomplete without a response on the part of the one sought.

The dynamic becomes clear if we consider the account of Jesus and the rich young ruler as described in Mark 10. This passage describes the encounter of Jesus with a young man who asks him how to inherit eternal life. Jesus responds by referring to the commandments. Note that Jesus does not actually say, “Keep the commandments,” but rather “You know the commandments.” There is subtlety in Jesus’s response, since he doesn’t say that the ruler will gain life by keeping the commandments. And the ruler’s reply seems to indicate that the commandments weren’t enough: “All these I have kept since my youth.” Nevertheless he was still asking Jesus about eternal life.

Mark then says that “Jesus looked at him and loved him.” There is, perhaps, an implication that Jesus to this point had not taken the man quite seriously, but hearing that he had kept the commandments he realized that the ruler was a true seeker, and his heart went out to him.

Then Jesus tells the ruler to sell all he has and follow him. And the ruler, being rich, finds himself unable to do so. The passage describes him as being “shocked” (literal Greek) by what Jesus said and that he left feeling “intensely sad.”

Every indication is that Jesus was also saddened. He reflects twice about how difficult it is for those who are rich to enter the kingdom of God; the second time prefacing his comments with the word “children,” as if to express a kind of wistful tenderness toward his disciples, since they were able to follow him.

This encounter displays the risk that grace takes in its offer of relationship. Jesus loved the rich young ruler and offered him everything he had — to be with him as one of his disciples. But the young man rejected the offer. Both parties seemed saddened by the encounter.

So we see that while grace goes first in offering a relationship, grace is not fulfilled unless it meets a response.

The Bible tells us that we are saved by grace through faith (Ephesians 2:8). That same passage emphasizes that salvation is a gift of God. This shows that while salvation involves a meeting of two persons — God and the one being saved — salvation is something that God brings to the table. God’s free offer of relationship is an offer of salvation. Our response of faith is to take God’s offer at his word.

Thus God’s part in salvation is rightly characterized as grace, because it is he who takes the initiative. Our part is described as faith; faith in this context involves trust that receives the offered gift. Or to put it another way, faith is trust in God’s grace, and that trust constitutes loving acceptance of the offered relationship.

One issue that sometimes crops up is the notion of irresistible grace. This is a teaching that says that when God extends his grace, whoever he extends it to is irresistibly drawn to salvation.

If we step back as we look at this question, it becomes a question of where grace fits into the big picture. Is grace an aspect of God’s sovereignty or of his love?

If grace is an aspect of sovereignty then of course it makes sense to talk about irresistible grace. But then it becomes difficult to talk about a free relationship. Love that is forced on you is, well, what exactly is it? If we are robotically forced to love God because he has placed his grace on us, then the whole affair becomes a kind of incomprehensible play. Jesus’ tears for Jerusalem are those of an actor, and his cries of anguish on the cross — what a great performance! Very convincing!

But if we think of grace as an aspect of love, then grace becomes risky. God offers grace but it can be rejected. God takes the same risk we do when we offer love to others.

We see God’s love rejected throughout the Old Testament. Paul quotes Isaiah when he says, “The whole day long I have stretched out my hands to a disobedient and obstinate people” (Romans 10:21). We see the pain of rejection in Hosea 11:6-9:

First, God’s anger at Israel’s rejection comes out:

The sword shall rage against their cities,
consume the bars of their gates,
and devour them because of their own counsels.

My people are bent on turning away from me,
and though they call out to the Most High,
he shall not raise them up at all.

But then God’s heart softens and he finds he can’t go through with his anger:

How can I give you up, O Ephraim?
How can I hand you over, O Israel?
How can I make you like Admah?
How can I treat you like Zeboiim?
My heart recoils within me;
my compassion grows warm and tender.

I will not execute my burning anger;
I will not again destroy Ephraim;
for I am God and not a man,
the Holy One in your midst,
and I will not come in wrath.

This is the pain of a betrayed lover, not of a sovereign who can turn rejection into love like someone turning on a light-switch.

So the picture of love we see is a risky love that binds the heart even while piercing it with the pains of rejection. And this is the love we see on the cross — love that bears the fatal cost of being with a humanity that is addicted to death and to going its own way.

And … amazingly … it works! Christ on the cross draws people to him, a people “from every tribe and tongue and people and nation.” The offer of love evokes — without demanding — a response. God’s initiating love, his grace, finds its fulfillment as we, his people, respond in faith.

And in that two-way love is joy made complete.