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If—for a moment—all that’s unseen could be seen; if we could trace the prayers of those who lift our names to God, we would be stunned and overwhelmed by love. There is no night so dark nor circumstance so grim that we could miss the arcs of prayerful comets climbing toward the heavens, carrying our names and needs. God has His witnesses on earth—a parent; spouse; a long-forgotten friend—who lift their voices up to Him to plead for us—our health, our wealth, our wisdom, and our courage. And they are heard because they love, for God who taught us how to love is moved by even murmured pleas. The grace that undergirds us all is mirrored in a billion prayers—for wars to cease; for hope to win; for prodigals still far from home; for parents struggling with disease; for friends who wrestle with despair. We are more loved than we remember; more blessed than we can calculate. Grace moves among us, lit by prayer, to heal, to warm, to keep, to hold.  The lift you feel could well be someone loving you through prayer. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott

“Write of the light,” the angel said. “The world has crouched in darkness for too long. The shadows multiply, as do the myths and monsters they invent. One sharp, clean shaft of light will welcome in the future.” And so we write and talk of grace, especially when shadows crowd our little stage, and curtains warn the play might soon be ending. Anxieties will have their run: calamities of every kind remind us just how fragile is our script, how inconsistent our direction. But there is One who holds the drama—and our futures—without care or worry, haste or fear. “He Himself is before all things, and in Him all things hold together” (Col 1:17). And by His own description, He is love—unbounded, unconditional, eternal. “In Him was life, and the life was the light of all people” (John 1: 4). He is “the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning” (James 1:17). When there is nothing good to write of us, the grace of Christ heals what is wounded in our play and spotlights what He did to save us: “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them” (2 Cor 5:19). As stage lights warm the final act, so fear succumbs to light and laughter. The drama on our stage becomes a story of redemption. And all the cheering at the end is the applause of angels. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott

‘‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear . . . Each week, 10 million Christians raise a hymn in which so many puzzle at the words. How, in a canticle to grace, could anyone refer to fear as good, from which a useful lesson could be learned? But buried in “Amazing Grace” is a powerful reminder: the grace that ultimately warms and comforts us first makes us wretched and despairing. Grace cannot thrive without the truth, and the unwelcome truth will drive each sinner’s heart to fear—cold, clutching fear: “For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard” (Rom 3:23). “For the wages of sin is death” (Rom 6:23). At the doorway of a new life hangs a sign that clearly states, “You were lost in your sins.” The good news of the gospel—of grace, forgiveness, and renewal—is only good in the presence of news that isn’t good. Your sin—my sin—however small or great we may imagine it to be, excludes us from the light and life of God’s eternal presence. Until we see this, know this, taste the bitterness of loss, we aren’t yet ready for His joy and restoration. It is deep grace to glimpse our fate, and even more to know that we’ve been saved from it. Only the shadow of a cross will lift us from the shadows of our fears. “And grace my fears relieved.” So stay in grace. -Bill Knott

And there we were, the wretched ones, disguising all our anxious pain with skill a make-up artist must admire. We hid the sadness and the fear through years of practiced levity, with words like “Fine,” with worn-out jokes, with changes to the topic.  But then the gospel reached our world with all its fearsome clarity and hope. And quick we saw that all our artifice was glass to the all-seeing eye of Grace. Somebody we knew had come to life, with joy abundant in their eyes, and gentleness in all their words. We watched new hope suffuse their souls, and saw rich playfulness return. Grace brought to life a wounded heart, and we began to hope that we might trade our dismal trudge for joy and peace and light and love.   In them we saw; from them we heard: “God is so rich in kindness and grace that He purchased our freedom with the blood of His Son and forgave our sins. He has showered His kindness on us, along with all wisdom and understanding” (Eph 1:7-8).  Grace moves among us, heart to heart, awakening our half-dead lives through kindness and example. The world is made all new again, one healed sinner at a time.  So stay in grace.  -Bill Knott

As children, we would loudly boast: “I can run faster than you.“ “ I have more toys than you.” “I’m taller than you.” Not much has changed. Now all grown-up, we quietly still boast:  “I pay someone to do my running for me.” “I have the bigger toys.” “I’m thinner/fitter/wealthier.” We gain our value by comparing ourselves to those without acquired or natural advantages. We revel in what DNA or ancestors have lent us for a moment.  But Jesus offers each of us a gift for which no bragging is allowed:  “By grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God— not the result of works, so that no one may boast” (Eph 2:8-9). No leap of faith is measured. No marathon of duty gets us closer to the goal. No list of good things done—or bad things left undone—adjusts our destiny. Grace can’t be earned, is unavailable for sale, and never is inherited. Grace is God’s gift, and free to all who take it. In God’s economy, I gain it all by faith in Him “who loved me and gave Himself to save me” (Gal 2:20) So stay in grace. -Bill Knott

Why is it we find kindness in this broken, angry world?  Despite the ugliness of violence and greed, we still see moments of breathtaking beauty and compassion. A stranger gives a kidney to a dying 12-year old. A soldier shelters children terrified by war. A colleague holds a friend undone by stress. A spouse forgives, and pledges to rebuild. Not one of these advances some advantage. None reflect the law of tooth and claw. We do these things because we still retain, however faintly, the image of our great and kind Creator. His goodness flows through even those who do not claim His name. “We love each other because He loved us first“ (1 John 4:18). “The love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Spirit, who is given to us” (Rom 5:5).  The Spirit points toward Jesus who always shines: “And the light shines on in the darkness, and the darkness has never put it out” (John 1:5). So offer thanks whenever kindness meets you. But know the truth: there’s nothing random in it. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott

Staying in grace is hard work in the same way resisting the pull of self-congratulation is hard work. Our human nature loves to count: “I haven’t eaten chocolate for 12 days.” “I put 10 percent of my income in the offering plate at church.” “I’ve done five ‘random acts of kindness’ in three days.” We naturally crave applause from others, and most fatally, from ourselves. Yet Jesus urges, “Do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing” (Matt 6:3). Grace bids us put away our abacus, our calculators, and all algorithms of righteousness that start or end with us. The “work” of faith is learning to believe in Christ alone, and giving Him the glory for the healing of our lives. The grace that saves us is the same great love that changes us. We look to Him, and not within. So stay in grace.  -Bill Knott

Just as there is no human life without oxygen, so there is no eternal life without the grace of Jesus.  All other theories, strong and noble though they seem, are grand illusions that overestimate our goodness and underestimate God’s holiness. No string of sins avoided, or good deeds performed with vigor even start to bridge the gap between our lostness and His law.  But forgiveness takes us where forgoing never can.  Jesus loves us far too much to let us go on fooling others and ourselves about the cost of being saved. Only He can pay the price—and He has paid it all.  We live with gratitude when we are sure of grace.  So stay in grace. -Bill Knott

“And what is grace?” the preacher sings. Then back five hundred voices drone: “Grace is undeserved favor. It does not stop; it does not waver.” The choir sings a great “Amen.” And everyone goes home. But has the gospel been delivered? More crucially, has it been heard? As commonly communicated, grace is an answer in a catechism, a distant theological abstraction, an idea we can safely leave alone. Yet grace is needed in the parking lot—at church or at the grocery store—when someone darts into the space we’ve waited five long minutes for. And grace is vital in the boardroom—and the family room—where pride and jealousy are real. And grace is in a hundred unexpected moments when we are suddenly aware that we are loved—that broken, hurting folks like us—are precious to the God who made us and redeemed us. “He is so rich in kindness and grace that He purchased our freedom with the blood of His Son and forgave our sins” (Eph 1:7). If grace is only cognitive, and never gets below our ears, we miss its beauty and its power. The grace of God inhabits us, until are very selves are changed, and we become the love of Christ who saved us for no reason other than His love. When we are loved, we live and breathe the grace of God. There is no greater joy than this. There is no better peace. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott

If you are a believer, then you learned Christ from another believer. Your story—ups and downs and still unfinished—is still a testament to grace. Someone loved you for no reason. Someone taught you the reality of the unseen world. Someone shared with you the power and efficacy of prayer. Someone built the confidence you have in Him who holds all things together. Your shiny faith is the new link in a centuries-old chain of sharing that began when fishermen and tax collectors dropped nets and coins to follow after Jesus. So pause today to thank the risen Lord for grace that came to you through kindness from a modern-day disciple. And then, be like the one who shared their faith with you. Keep adding links: keep adding hope. For this chain is the symbol of unfettered joy and freedom. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott

The broken fragments of our days are red and ragged, wet with tears. The job ungained; the love undone; the hard, dull ache of illness in the body or the soul. We see no pattern in the pain; we find no solace in the rain.  But there is One with cosmic grace who sees each piece for what it shows of His uncanny and redeeming power. And in the long, slow masterpiece He builds, He fits the fragments of our hours with skill so great and eye so fine that even we, unlucky we, will call it good, will call it fair. “And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose for them” (Rom 8:28).  For what we come to call our “faith” will trace what unfaith never sees—that there is meaning in the picture—that what we thought our greatest grief has now become His center stone. God finds a use for every chip; there is no waste in all His artistry. “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom” (Psa 90:12).  None but the Artist of our lives could make of all our brokenness a fitting temple to His will: mosaics need a long, slow skill. Grace is not finished with us yet: there is more beauty to appear.  Another, better day will dawn.  So stay in grace. -Bill Knott

And so we launch out on the ocean of the year, presuming that the wind filling our sails will carry us to joy and not disaster. We’ve made ourselves shipshape, or so we say. We’ve thrown a handful of bad habits overboard; resolved to never navigate in fog; promised ourselves that, for the first time in forever, we’ll stay steady—patient—with the wheel. We think the future, like the rudder, is firmly in our hands. But who can fathom what the new year brings? There are uncertainties much deeper than the weather—of gain and loss, of pain and growth, of racing days and windless days. As the psalmist said centuries ago, “We are merely moving shadows, and all our busy rushing ends in nothing. We heap up wealth, not knowing who will spend it. And so, Lord, where do I put my hope? My only hope is in You” (Psa 39:6-7). So trust the navigation of your life to the One who “made the heavens, the earth, the sea, and everything in them” (Ex 20:11). He needs no North Star, nor a Southern Cross to chart your way, for “He also made the stars” (Gen 1:16). His hand, not yours, upon the wheel, will bring your ship into the harbor of companionship and grace. We either trust the grace of God, or settle for uncertainty. “Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the Lord will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; He will neither fail you nor abandon you” (Deut 31:8). So move—and stay—in grace. -Bill Knott

            The waning days of this old year remind us we ought never walk alone. We need three things to end December: forgiveness for the wrongs we’ve done; the healing of our wounded memories; assurances that we will have safe company in days and miles ahead.             The gospel tells us we have all of these in Jesus. His blood alone removes our shame and stains. His reconciliation shields us from hard-earned, high-priced bitterness. His promise to stay with us—in every hour, in every age—gives courage on dark nights, and lifts our hearts when we can’t know the future.             By grace, we walk away from sins—our sins, and those done to us through the pettiness or animus of others. By grace, we lose the need to sanctify our scars, or grimly tell our tales of injury. By grace, we stretch a hand into the as-yet-unknown future—and discover, to our joy, that we are grasped and held and loved and valued by the Lord who walks beside us. We dare not make this crossing by ourselves, for we will either fall back into what has been, or hide in fear of what may be. The grace of Jesus makes the new year safe for pilgrims walking homeward. “I will never leave you or forsake you,” (Heb 13:5) Jesus says to all who journey with Him.             And for this moment, month, or year, our hearts are light, our spirits high. The road ahead is rich with kindness and companions.             So stay in grace.

When poets have run out of words, and composers call no melodies to mind; when preachers have re-told the old, familiar story; when massive choirs have sung the final hallelujah—there still will be a mystery at the center of it all. Grace moved a God of love to do what is unthinkable to us—to surrender all His privileges and power; constrict his vast galactic reach—to enter our tight time and space, and share our mud and feel our pain. Describe it, sing it, preach it if you can, but nothing but the love of God explains the grace of God. “Great indeed, we confess, is the mystery of our religion” (1 Tim 3:16). The gifts we share on Christmas Day are, at their best, dull mirrors of a gift only our God could give. Only He who fills eternity could give a life that lasts forever. “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him may not perish but may have eternal life” (John 3:16). Hidden in the boxes and the bows are gadgets that will make us smile, or foods that tempt our palate, or promises of trips we long to take. But let us pause the music and the laughter long enough to wonder at the gift for which there is no counterpart: “God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not imputing their trespasses to them, and has committed to us the word of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:19). “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us” (Luke 2:15). Grace is the gift that changes both our now and our forever. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott

We are not wise like magi,  Or powerful like Herod. And few can claim nobility  By birth or social climbing.  But God—this Child who sleeps in straw— Has chosen us to worship at His cradle.  So we rejoice in commonness;  We gladly play the fool for Him.  For we have glimpsed in Bethlehem The power that holds all things together— The love that seeks us out, surrounds us, will not let us go.  We stand in warm, strong light that cannot be extinguished; “For the light shines in the darkness, And the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5). We revel in the victories grace has won, Is winning, And will win.  There is no doubt—nor can there be—about the final outcome. So come, now:  bend the knee. Lean forward with a glowing heart.  This is an hour for adoration.   And stay in grace. -Bill Knott

We trade our gifts on Christmas Eve, or Christmas morn, or some convenient holiday. We wait to see a grateful smile, or wide-eyed wonder on a child’s face—all quietly aware our turn is next: the next gift will be handed us. And though this pageant brings us joy, and warms our hearts, we dare not say it represents the gospel, even though it’s full of gifts. Our calculations typically are tuned to give of equal value. We won’t embarrass others with extravagance that they can’t match, nor do we like the debt we feel when we receive “too much.” But heaven gave extravagantly when heaven gave us Jesus. He came with nothing in His hands but everything—all riches—in His heart. His greatest joy is in our joy—and in our inability to trade Him anything in return. Grace is a gift we cannot earn, and don’t deserve, and can’t repay. We don’t make things “even” by obedience, or costly sums, or kindly deeds that lessen obligation. He who “owns the cattle on a thousand hills”—and all the hills—isn’t seeking reciprocity. Accept the gift. Embrace the Child. Be overwhelmed with joy. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott

“Away in a manger No crib for His bed . . .” It staggers imagination that the Lord of life, the Creator of all that is, found His first bed neither in a warmed obstetrics ward nor in a baby’s well-built crib. His reality was far more primitive than all the gilded mangers which adorn displays in churches or millions of homes this Christmas. The manger in which Jesus slept His first hour was almost certainly a shallow bowl carved into the rock floor of a cave or lean-to shelter—quite literally, a hole in the ground from which the livestock ate. It was the lowest of low places, the symbol of how low grace will stoop to live with us and be one of us. And you will recall that at the other end of His life, Jesus was—temporarily—laid in another hole in the ground—a tomb carved from the rock face of a cliff. There is a special symmetry in this, for grace seeks out “the lowly and despised things of this world” (1 Cor 1:28) to illustrate that no one is beneath the saving love of God. The worst, the lowest thing you’ve done is still redeemable because of grace. The best and highest thing you’ll do is only possible through grace. Grace moved low to lift us up. So stay in it. -Bill Knott

The act of giving thanks—whispered at each common meal, or once a year at family dinners on big holidays—is an early, hopeful flag that grace has come to live with us. For a moment—for one long, exhaling moment—we acknowledge the truth of what the apostle wrote 2000 years ago:  “You are not your own:  you have been bought with a price”  (I Cor 6:19-20). For an instant, the guard is down, the drawbridge open, and we admit that we aren’t self-made or even self-sustained.  The castle of our lives has always had a Guardian, a Protector.  All that we are, and all we have, and every structure that secures us has been given, not deserved.  Even what we say we’ve “earned” is undeniably built on gifts too numerous to count. When I say “thanks,” I confess that there is something—Someone—wider, bigger, and more gracious than any defense I muster or every good I do.  So we learn grace through gratitude.  And even as we teach our children to “Say thank-you,” the Spirit prompts us each to murmur private “Hallelujahs.” Throw wide the gates, and cross the moat. Release yourself.  And stay in grace. -

In all those moments in between—when idling in slow traffic; or stuck in dull, unhappy meetings; or waiting for the sound of tires rolling up the drive—our thoughts revert to what we’ve missed.  Where would we rather be?  With whom would we prefer to talk? Why must our time be wasted? But the God of every moment—even dull, unhappy ones—offers us His presence and His care. “I have loved you, My people, with an everlasting love,” He says. (Jer 31:3). “Be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matt 28:20). “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28). The grace of God is still our gift when schedules lag and people disappoint and time hangs heavy on our hands. There is no hour Christ will not share; no hidden grief He cannot bear; no pause in all His patient care. Remember now how much you’re loved. And when you wait, then stay in grace.  

Thankfulness is all about our expectations. So long as we think we deserve to be healthy—physically, financially—and that a sick body or an empty wallet is an injustice done to us, we’ll never feel all that grateful when God heals us. If God owes it to us to make and keep us healthy and wealthy, why should we thank Him for it? But if we grasp the deep sacredness of living—that every moment is a gift from the Father’s hand—then everything in us will sing of everything God is doing for us. Every illness overcome; every bank account that didn’t run dry; every wounded relationship healed is a special act of grace. We deserved none of these good things: we’ve been given all these good things. “O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare Your praise” (Ps 51:5). So stay in gratitude—and grace. -Bill Knott