The Problem with Grace

My apologies if this week’s post seems more like a book review than a story. I recently finished a book called All is Grace, by Brennan Manning that really got me thinking. Before reading this book, I honestly didn’t know much about the author. Recently, two people who play significant roles in my spiritual journey recommended that I read this book. That was enough for me to give Manning a try. But, this book is much different from his other writings. All is Grace is his memoirs—his life story.

As in most books, the dust jacket of the book came with a short bio of Manning in which it lists his accomplishments. It told of his days as a Franciscan priest living with the poor. It talked about the many thousands of people he has spoken to in conferences and in churches; and it listed the thick handful of books that have been appreciated by millions over the last several decades. I was impressed, and my curiosity was sparked, on how this man had been brought to such a place of impact. I wanted to know how God had crafted and developed this man to be such an effective minister of the Gospel.

Forgive me if I ruin the book for you but there were a couple of profound moments in his life that have left me a bit unsettled. I think I expected to read a story of a man who became more and more faithful, obedient, and stable as he grew older. But, that wasn’t the case. Manning’s life has been riddled with self-induced brokenness and pain. He described himself as a Wounded Healer: meaning that while his life was hemorrhaging, God was using him to heal others. Sounded good to me early in the book until I learned how deeply broken this man was throughout his life.

Manning grew up in a home where he learned to think of himself as an inconvenience and someone who would never amount to much. In high school he found the benefits of alcohol in coping with his pain of constant rejection and became a prolific drinker as a young man. Through a series of events and relationships, Manning came to experience the calling of God in his life and he entered into the priesthood. For many years, he served the poor and grew in his service to God within his many priesthood tasks. But his problems with the bottle were never truly relieved—they got worse.

As I read Manning’s story, I longed for the point of drastic transformation when he would fully surrender his past, his sins, and his struggles to God. I wanted to read of a moment when renewed surrender and commitment would usher him into being the wonderful speaker and writer that people know him to be. But that never happened. As a matter of fact, the further I read, the darker his life seemed to become. Ironically, his deepest moments of personal darkness where occurring at the height of his popularity as a Christian speaker. That bugged me! It deeply disturbed me!

During his midlife, Manning left the priesthood to marry a wonderful woman that had entered his life. This was, of course, a very controversial move that caused him to be ostracized from the Catholic community. But, Protestant ministries began to flock to his writings and sermons. He was in demand as a speaker and widely read by Christians throughout the world. However, this was also one the darkest seasons of his life. Manning talked about a game, a rendition of “hide and seek,” he’d play with his wife (really no fun for either). He would end a weekend of speaking to thousands and then hide himself in a hotel for days on end, drinking himself to unconsciousness. His wife would have to track him down and come and clean him up. Manning said that he had enough respect for his calling as an evangelist that he’d sober himself up enough to be ready for his next speaking engagement. After many cycles of speaking, hiding, drinking and sobering up, his marriage ended.

I hated that part of the book. It ticked me off! Why would God let a drunk, depressed, recluse sinner be so effective in the teaching and healing of so many people? It seemed so unfair to all the men and women who have served God so faithfully over the years but have seen much less fruit in their ministry. Why didn’t God throw this dude to the curb and give such success to someone more obedient and faithful? I didn’t like the answer I got from his story. All is Grace. Manning’s life is a trophy of God’s unmerited and unfair favor. That grace and mercy disturbed me. I was inwardly angry that God would give him such favor.

But, as I’ve reflected on this story, God deeply convicted me in this area of grace. When I become disgusted with God’s grace in someone’s life, I’m flaunting my own self-righteousness. In saying that someone should not get grace, I’m saying that I deserve grace but they don’t. Deserve grace? Yeah… those two words just don’t fit together, do they?

In my moments of questioning God’s goodness and grace in Manning’s life, I realized that I sounded like Jonah, upset that God would have mercy and kindness on the evil city of Nineveh. I sounded like the older brother of the prodigal son, disgusted that dad would throw a party for the stupid kid who blew his inheritance on booze and whores. I sounded like the worker Jesus described who labored all day and became angry because the boss paid not only him a full day’s wage, but the guy who only worked an hour. I’m screaming, “God you’re not fair with your goodness!”

But, grace is a gift and God gets to give it with wisdom and generosity. It’s not up to me to grade the fairness of the gift. My job is to recognize and embrace the acts of grace given to me and then to respond to grace with grace toward others.

In the end…I’ve earned nothing in this life and All is Grace.