Chapter Four

SAVED BY GRACE

I often ask my students the following question, "When you stand before the bar of God at the Judgment Day, how many of you would like the assurance that God will be absolutely fair with you?" Usually every hand goes up. Then I pull the rug out from under them. "You'd better think again. To be fair means to judge you by the law of justice and to give you what you deserve. But imperfect and fallen mortals like ourselves don't want to get what we deserve; we should be hoping for more than that. We don't want God to be fair or just when he judges us—we want him to be merciful." The atonement of Christ provides a way for God to be at the same time both just and merciful. Since Christ and I are one in the gospel covenant, and since in a covenant partnership it doesn't matter which partner does what, Christ can answer the demands of justice for me, and I can then receive the benefits of mercy from him. This is an arrangement that satisfies both justice and mercy.

Yet some people are so addicted to the law of justice that they have difficulty accommodating the law of mercy or grace. They chafe at certain aspects of the gospel and of mercy that seem to them unfair (in other words, merciful rather than just). For example, it really isn't fair that one person should suffer for the sins of others. It isn't fair that some people can commit horrible crimes and then be completely forgiven and cleansed without having to suffer for them. It isn't fair that those who labor for only an hour will get the same reward as those who labor all day. (See Matt. 20:1-16.) No, the gospel sometimes isn't fair, but that is actually part of the good news. It isn't fair—it's merciful, and thank God it is so, for no human being can stand acquitted before the demands of absolute justice. From the perspective of fallen, imperfect mortals like ourselves, being judged by justice alone is our worst nightmare.

Nevertheless, some of us can't seem to turn loose of the law of justice. I have had many people say to me, "Well, what you say about mercy and grace would be wonderful, if it were true, but it doesn't feel right to me. It's too easy—it doesn't seem fair." In other words, "I can't accept mercy because it doesn't feel like justice." But that is precisely the point—precisely the good news. The gospel offers mercy to those who would otherwise be damned by justice. What do the scriptures say? "O the greatness of the mercy of our God, the Holy One of Israel! For he delivereth his saints from that awful monster the devil, and death, and hell, and that lake of fire and brimstone, which is endless torment." (2 Ne. 9:19; italics added.)

Now it is not an unfair or unjust fate that the Saints are to be delivered from. There is nothing wrong with people going to hell—they deserve it. After all, they incurred an honest debt of sin, and paying it is only right: "Wo unto him that has the law given, yea, that has all the commandments of God, like unto us, and that transgresseth them, and that wasteth the days of his probation, for awful is his state!" (2 Ne. 9:27.) In the situation described in these two scriptures, the devil, death, and hell receive power over individuals only to the extent and duration that are warranted for the payment of individual debts. Hell is not a satanic invention—it is part of God's plan, and it is perfectly just and fair. It is true that Satan rules there, but only at the sufferance of God. The threat of hell is the threat of getting justice, of getting what we deserve and of paying what we owe without any interference from mercy.

On the other hand, the atonement of Christ offers a way to receive mercy instead of justice and to avoid a just punishment in hell. Nevertheless, if we reject the mercy offered by Christ, then suffering for our sins is right and just and fair. Justice could never intervene to save us from a just punishment—only mercy can do that. "While his arm of mercy is extended towards you in the light of the day, harden not your hearts. . . . [Otherwise,] according to the power of justice, for justice cannot be denied, ye must go away into that lake of fire and brimstone, whose flames are unquenchable, and whose smoke ascendeth up forever and ever, which lake of fire and brimstone is endless torment." (Jacob 6:5, 10.)

In this life there are only two lords and two sides. We must choose to belong to the One or the other. If we do not choose the One, we will receive the other by default. There is no middle ground, no third alternative. Life, like a computer, has default settings, conditions that will automatically apply unless we take positive action to avoid them. Thus, if we refuse to make Christ our Lord by taking positive steps to enter into his covenant, then Satan becomes our lord by default. Christ by choice or Satan by default—there are no other options.

Christ "shall bring salvation to all those who shall believe on his name; this being the intent of this last sacrifice, to bring about the bowels of mercy, which overpowereth justice, and bringeth about means unto men that they may have faith unto repentance. And thus mercy can satisfy the demands of justice, and encircles them in the arms of safety." (Alma 34:15-16.) The choice before us is mercy or justice. Either choice can be accommodated, and either choice is compatible with the nature and plan of God, but, as in the choice between the Lord and Satan, there are no third alternatives. Again, life has default settings, and they are set for justice. We can choose the mercy that is offered through the gospel covenant, but if we refuse that mercy, we will receive justice.

Now here is an odd thing about the nature of mercy: by definition, mercy can only be mercy if we don't deserve it. For if we deserve something, then it becomes a matter of justice that we receive it. So it ceases to be a matter of mercy. Thus, in this sense at least, to give or to receive mercy is always somewhat unfair. But one of the great beauties of the gospel, some of the best news of all, is that Jesus Christ does not mind this unfairness. He is willing to suffer unfairly and compensate justice himself out of his own person in order to extend mercy to weaker beings like us. This willingness on his part to pay more than his fair share and to carry more than his fair load in order to grant mercy to others constitutes the grace of Christ.

GRACE

In the King James Bible, the English word grace has several different meanings. The Hebrew or Greek words usually translated "grace" (hen or charis, respectively) are also translated as favor, pleasure, thanks, graciousness, or goodwill. The term is also used for a gift, benefit, or gesture offered in token of these attitudes. In contemporary society, a tip or gratuity (from the same Latin root as grace) represents much the same thing. A customer pays his bill—that is what justice demands—but the tip is based on goodwill. There is no obligation. Grace in the King James Bible can also mean comeliness or beauty (James 1:11), or it can mean the favor or special status one person grants to another in return for good service (see Gen. 33:8), for spiritual merit (see 1 Sam. 2:18), or even for physical beauty (see Esth. 2:15-17).

However, in the New Testament, "grace" most often refers to the grace or favor of God, and this is usually understood as an attitude of goodwill that predisposes God to act positively toward human beings. The operative word here is predisposes. In other words, before I have a track record, before I can be cute or smart or charming or even righteous, before I can earn any rewards or deserve any blessings—before all this—God is already predisposed positively toward me. Grace in this sense is not something that I can trigger, manipulate, earn, deserve, or control, for it is a preexisting aspect of God's attitude toward me. Before I could even respond to him, he already loved me, wanted to help me, and wanted me to succeed. (Cf. 1 Jn. 4:19.) Because of this predisposition in my favor, God also grants me gifts from time to time to help me succeed. Such gifts are also referred to in scripture occasionally as the grace of God, since they are tokens of his positive predisposition toward me.

Like our Heavenly Father, most parents are predisposed positively toward their children even before the child does anything to return the favor. Even when all a child can do is cry and wet its pants, even then it can usually draw on a vast reservoir of parental love and care and concern. Though children consume much more than they produce, most parents are predisposed to treat them with favor, or in other words to grant them grace. Thus, they do things for their children that they might not do for other people.

Later on, the child's entreaty "Please!" is an appeal to that parental grace, to mom or dad's goodwill and favor. "Please!" isn't an argument; it presents no evidence that what is requested is just or deserved. It does not imply that the object in mind has been earned. It merely says, "Do it because you love me and are predisposed in my favor, or do it simply because I want or need it, and you care about my wants and needs. Do it as a sign of your favor, as an expression of your affection for me. Do it because we belong to each other." The Spanish term for please, "por favor," which means literally "for the sake of grace (or favor)," preserves the true nature of the entreaty "please!"

Theologically, the grace of God is his goodwill toward us, his predisposition to act in our best interest even before we can earn or deserve such consideration. Latter-day Saints understand that God's unconditional grace has been expressed to his children in many ways. For example, God made us his own spirit children in a premortal life. This was a great blessing, yet we did not ask for it, and there was no way we could deserve or earn it or claim a right to it in advance of his making us his children. God did it because he had the ability to do it and because we would be better off if he did. Our birth as his spirit children was an unearned expression of our Father's goodwill—of unprovoked and indiscriminate love and caring. This is pure grace. Moreover, just as parents love their tiny infants even before they can respond to that love, so God loved us even before we had the ability to love him back, let alone "earn" his love with good behavior.

God's grace is also extended to and claims children who die before the age of accountability. (See D&C 29:46; 137:10.) Likewise, it claims the mentally handicapped (see D&C 29:50) 1 and those who are genuinely ignorant of God's commandments to the extent of their ignorance (see 2 Ne. 9:25-26). In all such cases, God is predisposed to act unilaterally in their favor without any performance on their part that earns his concern. They are saved by grace. Latter-day Saints also believe that God removed the sin of Adam (or original sin) from Adam's posterity by and through his grace, as a unilateral act of goodwill. (See Moro. 8:8.) Thus all human beings will be resurrected through the grace of God. These aspects of the grace of God are gifts we can neither manipulate nor earn.

Nevertheless, the term grace is sometimes used in a different sense to describe a quality that is responsive or reactive to human behavior. When spoken of in this sense, God's favor or grace is not a preexisting given but is something that can be sought after, increased, decreased, or even lost completely by an individual's own actions. Thus Peter can insist in 1 Peter 5:5 that God gives grace to the humble (as opposed to those who lack humility). He also exhorts believers to "grow in grace." (See 2 Pet. 3:18; italics added. Cf. Luke 2:52.) John explains that believers receive grace for grace, or in other words they receive increased favor from God as they react positively (graciously) to grace already received. (See John 1:16; see also D&C 93:12, 19-20) Paul even warns the Galatians against falling from grace through their own foolishness. (See Gal. 1:6; 5:4.)

This reactive or responsive grace can "be multiplied" (e.g., 1 Pet. 1:2), it "abounds" under certain circumstances, and it can be received "in vain" (2 Cor. 6:1). It is used in the sense of reward in Luke 6:32-34 ("What thank have ye?") 2 and of the thanks that humans owe God. Thus even now, "to say grace" means to offer the thanks due to God in return for his blessings. This responsive kind of grace is also the nuance behind most of the scriptural passages in which one individual speaks of finding "grace in the eyes of" another. (See, e.g., Gen. 19:19; 1 Sam. 20:3.) When the term grace is used with this nuance, as responsive grace, we see how an individual can be said to grow from grace to grace until ultimately coming to a "fulness of grace." (D&C 93:13, 19-20)

Thus we see that some aspects of God's favor or grace are unilateral and without preconditions. These things God has already done for us without any consideration of our individual behavior. They are sheer gifts granted to all human beings alike out of his preexisting love for us. However, other aspects of God's favor or grace are conditional and may increase, decrease, or even cease altogether in our lives depending upon how we respond to their influence. Nevertheless, in both cases love and grace flow from God to human beings—they originate in him as part of his nature, and he makes the first move. God loves us not because we're so lovable he can't help himself—he loves us because his nature is loving, because God is love. (See 1 Jn. 4:8.)

SAVED BY GRACE

The greatest expression of God's love and of his unilateral and unconditional grace is in his providing a Savior for those who sin. "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." (John 3:16.) The atonement of Christ and its offer of mercy are there for us whether we are righteous or not, whether we deserve it or not. It is offered alike to the wicked and the just (relatively speaking). Everyone has been invited to receive it. This solution to all life's problems has been provided gratis (by grace). Justice did not require that the Father provide a Savior, nor did justice require that Jesus Christ offer to be that Savior and suffer in our place to redeem us. When he saw our weakness, our peril, and our need, his love and compassion for us moved him to offer his intervention—to volunteer.

The gospel covenant is therefore a covenant of grace, an expression of God's goodwill. God didn't have to offer this new covenant to us, and Christ didn't have to volunteer for the assignment. We humans did not earn or merit the offer of a new covenant. Quite the opposite: the gospel covenant was only necessary in the first place because of our disobedience and our inability to keep the commandments. We didn't earn it—we needed it. No grace, no volunteer; no volunteer, no savior; no savior, no salvation. The conclusion is inescapable—we are saved by grace.

For some reason, however, some Latter-day Saints are uneasy about the doctrine of grace. I believe this is because they have been so turned off by certain non-LDS interpretations of grace that they have rejected the term altogether, thus throwing out the baby with the bath water. However, given the number of places in the LDS scriptures where the doctrine of grace is taught, we cannot deny its central place in the gospel. Consider for example, the following passages from the Book of Mormon

Reconcile yourselves to the will of God, and not to the will of the devil and the flesh; and remember, after ye are reconciled unto God, that it is only in and through the grace of God that ye are saved. (2 Ne. 10:24.)

We labor diligently to write, to persuade our children, and also our brethren, to believe in Christ, and to be reconciled to God; for we know that it is by grace that we are saved, after all we can do. (2 Ne. 25:23.)

If men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them. (Ether 12:27.)

Come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny yourselves of all ungodliness; and if ye shall deny yourselves of all ungodliness, and love God with all your might, mind and strength, then is his grace sufficient for you, that by his grace ye may be perfect in Christ; and if by the grace of God ye are perfect in Christ, ye can in nowise deny the power of God. And again, if ye by the grace of God are perfect in Christ, and deny not his power, then are ye sanctified in Christ by the grace of God, through the shedding of the blood of Christ, which is in the covenant of the Father unto the remission of your sins, that ye become holy, without spot. (Moro. 10:32-33.)

However, for Latter-day Saints the doctrine of grace does not mean that we are saved by grace alone, that is, without participating in the process in some degree, nor does it mean that salvation is totally without conditions. If that were true, salvation would be something that just fell out of the sky and happened to us—like getting struck by lightning or winning the lottery. The Latter-day Saints do not believe that grace is either random or irresistible, or that salvation is a unilateral decision on God's part (predestination). God may be predisposed in our favor, he may put within our reach what was once beyond us, and he may remove every obstacle in the way of our salvation, but he will not force us down the path he has cleared, nor will he save us without our consent. The gospel covenant is provided by sheer grace, but it must be entered into by choice.

Some theologians have suggested that any conditions attached to grace would destroy its character as grace, but I disagree. Suppose a dear relative offered you an all-expense-paid trip to Hawaii gratis (i.e., by grace) and asked that you respond to the invitation by a certain date. Would the required condition of an affirmative response make the offered trip any less an act of goodwill and favor based on love? Would you argue that once you responded affirmatively, your relative then owed you the trip, that you had in fact earned it by meeting the only condition placed on it—by accepting the offer within the specified time? Does being required to acknowledge a gift and affirm our desire to receive it change it from a gift to a wage?

Of course not, and in much the same way, God, our rich Heavenly Relative, offers us his kingdom by grace, by doing for us what we can't do for ourselves. But he also requires that we acknowledge and accept the offer by faith in Christ, repentance, baptism, and receiving the Holy Ghost. Then as long as we keep the gospel covenant, the grace of Jesus Christ is "sufficient to own, to redeem, and to justify." 3 The scriptures are clear—as long as we keep the covenant, the grace of Christ is not simply necessary, but sufficient for our salvation. (See Ether 12:27; Moro. 10:32-33.)

But we must agree to this arrangement. When we accept Christ and enter into his covenant, the demands of justice, which are demands for a perfection we do not have, are met by the grace of God, and we are saved. Thus the saving principles of the gospel covenant are offered to us as a favor, as an act of grace and goodwill. But we can still refuse grace. We can resist God's love and reject his covenant. Christ stands at the door and knocks, but he never kicks it in. We must open the door.

FAITH VS. WORKS

For centuries theologians have argued pointlessly over whether individuals are saved by faith or saved by works. A pox on both their houses, for neither by faith alone (defining faith as mere passive belief) 4 nor by works alone are we saved. Salvation comes through a covenant relationship in which both faith and works play their parts. To insist that salvation comes by works alone, that we can earn it ourselves without needing the grace of God, insults the mercy of God and mocks the sacrifice of Jesus Christ in our behalf. On the other hand, to insist that salvation comes by belief alone and that God places no other obligations upon the believer insults the justice of God and makes Christ the minister of sin.

The scriptural concept of the covenant, an agreement between mortals and God that lays obligations on both parties and that satisfies both justice and mercy, eliminates the false either/or of faith versus works. In simple terms this is the arrangement—we do what we are able to do, and Jesus Christ, the object of our faith, out of his love and mercy and grace, does what we are not yet able to do. And we must believe he can do it—we must believe Christ.

In the parable of the talents, it did not matter that he with five talents earned five more while he with two talents earned only two. The efforts of both were accepted, though one had more talents and produced more results than the other. Indeed, even he with only one talent would have been accepted, if only he had done what he could—but he chose not to try.

It is true that we cannot save ourselves by our works, but we can contribute something to the joint efforts of the partnership. To be in partnership, to be in a covenant relationship, we must do something. Even though our best efforts may be insufficient to save ourselves, they are sufficient as a token of good faith to establish a covenant with our Savior. Though that covenant relationship is then "sufficient to own, to redeem, and to justify," God still requires our participation. Without our assent and our participation, salvation would amount to nothing more than predestination, a happy accident that arbitrarily happens to some people and not to others.

No, we must participate in our own salvation to the extent that we are able. It is a partnership after all, and the junior partners must contribute what they can. To refuse such participation is to refuse the very idea of partnership. Two persons riding a tandem bicycle may not do the same amount of work, but if the weaker one uses that as an excuse to pull up his feet and stop pedaling altogether, then by definition the arrangement ceases to be a partnership and becomes exploitation. In the language of the gospel, it violates the covenant.

Trying our hardest to keep the commandments and be like Christ is part of our covenant obligation, not because we can succeed at them in this life, but because the attempt, the commitment to try, demonstrates our sincerity and our commitment to the covenant; it is a statement of our goals and desires. Our valiant attempts show that we really do hunger and thirst after righteousness—even if we don't always succeed at it. Faith is always willing to try—and to try again and again. While success is not a requirement of the covenant of faith, my best attempts are. The gospel covenant requires this "good faith" effort.

So the old debate about faith versus works is a false dichotomy, a phony either/or. No matter which side we choose, faith alone or works alone, we destroy the concept of a covenant, of the partnership between the individual and God.

RESISTING GRACE

Too many of us are saying to ourselves, "When I've done it, when I've perfected myself, when I've made myself completely righteous, then I'll be worthy of the Atonement. Then Christ can do his work and exalt me." But this will never happen, for it puts the cart before the horse. It's like saying, "When my tumor is gone, then I'll call the doctor. I'll be ready for him then." This is not how things are designed to work either in medicine or in the gospel. "They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick." (Matt. 9:12.)

Even a prophet as great as Moses learned that he could not stand against the power of Satan or cast him out until he tapped the power of God through the name of the Only Begotten. (See Moses 1:20-21.) Similarly, John saw that those who will receive salvation, strength, and the kingdom overcome Satan by the blood of the Lamb rather than through their own efforts. (See Rev. 12:10.)

I feel very strongly that in most cases the belief that we must save ourselves by our own good works is not merely misinformed, it is evil. It is evil in the first place because it places an impossible burden on people—the burden of being perfect. Eventually they will despair and give up. Second, it is evil because it keeps people from admitting their need of a savior and accepting the merits and mercy of the Holy Messiah. It keeps them from understanding Jesus Christ in his role as Savior. Finally, it is evil because some people are simply too arrogant to admit their own imperfection. They refuse to think of themselves as sinners or to admit there is anything they can't do on their own. Such hearts will not break—they are too proud. These individuals think of Christ and his atonement merely as handy tools to be used in saving themselves, just as a carpenter would use a hammer and nails to build a house. The emphasis, and the credit, is on themselves as do-it-yourself saviors rather than on Christ. No carpenter thanks his hammer.

No one who thinks he can work out his own salvation 5 has the necessary humility to receive the cleansing of Christ's atonement: "He offereth himself a sacrifice for sin, to answer the ends of the law, unto all those who have a broken heart and a contrite spirit; and unto none else can the ends of the law be answered." (2 Ne. 2:7.)

This is precisely the point the Savior makes in the parable of the Pharisee and the publican. (See Luke 18:9-14.) The Pharisee was one of those who "trusted in themselves that they were righteous." (V. 9.) The publican on the other hand did not do as well as the Pharisee at keeping all the commandments of God—but he knew it, and his heart was broken because of it. Now many who read this parable want to make the Pharisee out to be a hypocrite, but the text offers no evidence of this. The Pharisee really did do all the things he felt proud and superior about, and the publican really didn't. But that's not the point. This parable is not about hypocrisy; it's about pride. By objective human standards, in terms of the number and frequency of rules kept, the Pharisee really was the more righteous of the two individuals! Yet according to the Savior: "I tell you, this man [the publican] went down to his house justified rather than the other [the Pharisee]: for every one that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted." (V. 14.)

I fear that, like the Pharisee in the parable, some of us who are relatively good at keeping the rules also trust in ourselves that we are righteous. Such are inordinately proud of their own goodness; they exalt themselves. But whenever we are proud of how good we are instead of being humbled by how imperfect we are (cf. 2 Ne. 4:17-19), our hearts are not broken, nor are our spirits contrite.

I remember a missionary we knew in the East who simply could not be instructed on this subject. He once said, "Of course I can make myself perfect. That's the difference between Latter-day Saints and other Christians. They think they are saved by grace, that God hands them everything on a silver platter, and we know that we have to do it all ourselves, that we have to make ourselves perfect. I'm very good at what I do already, and I'm confident that I will have made myself perfect by the time I'm thirty or so." He would be over thirty now. I have often wondered how he's doing.

Whose merit is it that gets us to the kingdom? Whose good works make us perfect? Even those scriptures peculiar to the Latter-day Saints are clear on this matter:

Since man had fallen he could not merit anything of himself; but the sufferings and death of Christ atone for their sins, through faith and repentance, and so forth. (Alma 22:14;

I also thank my God, yea, my great God, that he hath granted unto us that we might repent of these things, and also that he hath forgiven us of those our many sins and murders which we have committed, and taken away the guilt from our hearts, through the merits of his Son. Alma 24:10;

. . . relying alone upon the merits of Christ, who was the author and the finisher of their faith. Moro. 6:4;

. . . that they might know the promises of the Lord, and that they may believe the gospel and rely upon the merits of Jesus Christ, and be glorified through faith in his name, and that through their repentance they might be saved. D&C 3:20;

Of course the archetype for those who want to exalt themselves and take credit for what only the Savior can do is Satan himself. In Moses 4:1 we are told that Satan insisted, "Surely I will do it; wherefore give me thine honor." I suggest that those who fail to appreciate their utter dependence upon the Savior and who insist they are working out their own salvation are guilty of this same satanic attitude. Much better to be the sinful publican relying in humility upon the mercy of God than the self-righteous Pharisee trusting in his own good works to save him, for the former at least has learned that he needs a Savior and is ready to accept him and repent, while the latter has not. (Of course, an even better alternative would be to combine the broken heart and humility of the publican with the obedience of the Pharisee.)

MY YOKE IS EASY

Some people reject the idea of grace because it seems too easy. They want being saved to be harder than it is. There is a certain comfort in saying, "Salvation is so hard that I couldn't possibly make it, so I don't really need to try." This provides a convenient excuse for not trying at all. This reminds me a little bit of the young woman who kept turning down a date from a man who just as persistently shot her excuses down one by one. Finally she was forced to admit the truth, "Look, I'm all out of excuses, so I'll give it to you straight. I just don't want to go out with you."

Some of us try similar evasive tactics with the Lord when he invites us into his kingdom. We give excuse after excuse why we can't enter in. But God's grace, which has removed all the obstacles and cleared the path, shoots down all our excuses. By his grace any problem can be overcome, any circumstances can be worked around, anyone can be saved—if only we just really want the kingdom. We say, "I'd really like to go with you, but I can't keep this or that commandment all the time," and he replies, "Can you keep it ninety percent of the time (or eighty or seventy)? Then start there for now, and we'll work on it together!" Finally, in the face of all God has done and is willing to do for us, after he has cleared away all the obstacles and we are faced with an open door, we must either say, "Yes, I want to go with you," or "Look, I'll give it to you straight, I just don't want to go." None of us can weasel our way out by saying, "I'd really like to, but I can't." Grace has eliminated every excuse but one: "I just don't want to go; I prefer my sins to your kingdom."

Whenever I hear someone complain that the doctrine of grace makes things too easy, I think of the occasion when the Lord tried to illustrate the grace, merit, and mercy of Christ to Israel when they had sinned in the wilderness: "He did straiten them in the wilderness with his rod; for they hardened their hearts, even as ye have; and the Lord straitened them because of their iniquity. He sent fiery flying serpents among them; and after they were bitten he prepared a way that they might be healed; and the labor which they had to perform was to look; and because of the simpleness of the way, or the easiness of it, there were many who perished." (1 Ne. 17:41; cf. Num. 21:4-9; Alma 33:20.)

I fear that in the modern Church we similarly have those who will perish rather than accept the grace of God because it seems to them too easy. They will not believe Christ. But as Alma said to his son Helaman "Do not let us be slothful because of the easiness of the way; for so was it with our fathers; for so was it prepared for them, that if they would look they might live; even so it is with us. The way is prepared, and if we will look we may live forever." (Alma 37:46.)

The Old Testament story of Naaman the leper also warns against dismissing the simple mercies of God. Naaman came to the prophet Elisha, desiring to be healed and expecting the cure to be both difficult and expensive. When Elisha told him to go bathe in the Jordan seven times, "he turned and went away in a rage" (1 Kgs. 5:12), feeling insulted and put off by so simple a prescription. Fortunately his servants were able to convince him to give the "too easy" remedy a try. "If the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldest thou not have done it? how much rather then, when he saith to thee, Wash, and be clean?" (1 Kgs. 5:13.)

And Naaman humbled himself, did the simple thing he was asked to do, and was healed. Was Naaman in his rage any different from those of us today who think the waters of baptism and the grace of God are too "easy" to cleanse us of our sins? When Peter said, "Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord," he was probably telling the truth. But apparently Jesus found some small use for him anyway.

My colleague Leon Hartshorn relates a poignant story about how his father's belief in Christ was increased:

My father was a good man. He took good care of my mother for numerous years while she was ill before she passed away. He taught his children to be honest and upright. He always paid his tithing, but he did not attend Church. My father had worked in the mines much of his life, in an environment that did not usually invite the Spirit of God, and perhaps for this reason he did not think that he could be fully active and enjoy the full blessings of activity in the gospel.

When I had been married two or three years, I returned to my father's home for a visit. As we sat down together, he said to me, "Son, I've had a dream. I dreamed I was standing on the edge of a cliff, and the Savior came riding toward me on a horse. He had a rope tied to the saddle and wrapped around the saddle horn. He reached the rope out to me and said, 'Bob, I want you to lower me and my horse down this cliff.' I replied that this was impossible; there was no way one man could lower the weight of a horse and rider down a cliff. He responded, 'Bob, lower me and my horse down the cliff.' So I took the end of the rope and lowered them down the cliff. To my surprise, it was not difficult at all. When the horse and rider arrived at the bottom of the cliff, he looked up and said, 'Bob, drop the rope.' I dropped it, and he wound it around the saddle horn again. Then looking up at me from the bottom of the cliff, he said simply, 'Bob, it's just that easy for you to live my commandments if you will try.' " It was a lesson my father could understand, a lesson in his own language of horses, riders, saddles, and ropes. Thereafter he would try whatever he was asked to do in the Church and was very active during the last twenty-five years of his life.

SOME FRUITS OF GRACE

There is transforming power in the grace of Christ for those whose hearts break in humble acknowledgment of their need for grace and mercy. I knew a member of the Church once whose sense of justice was so strong that he couldn't accept the atonement of Christ, although he did not realize it at the time. Oh, he was a hard man—hard on his wife and kids, hard on his friends and neighbors, and most of all hard on himself. He was never really unfair, but he seldom forgave, and he never forgot. He strove for absolute perfection in all that he did, and he was absolutely intolerant of failure and of those who failed. To him a "nice try" or a "valiant effort" were just euphemisms for failure, and heaven help his wife or his children if they failed to meet his expectations! In all fairness, this man never asked anyone else for a break, but he never gave one either. To him the idea that we could be forgiven of our sins because of what Christ had done and thereby totally escape paying a just penalty seemed too easy. He sarcastically called the doctrine "easy grace" because he felt it let people off the hook who deserved to be punished.

After several years of friendship, I discovered that this man was hiding a great secret, a terrible sin in his past for which he could not forgive himself. In his mind this sin was so horrible that justice must surely bar him from the kingdom of God forever. He was absolutely without hope, and in his stony resignation to what he considered a just fate, he had become hard and cold and dead. His self-hatred and rage at his own imperfection spiraled outward to wound everyone he knew who might also show signs of imperfection.

As we talked it over on one occasion, I agreed that he was probably right about the law of justice—it probably would slam the door of the kingdom in his face. But I also reminded him that mercy could open doors justice wouldn't. Then I took a gamble and told him that I didn't think his fixation for justice was motivated by grief and guilt, as he claimed, but rather by pride. He just couldn't tolerate the thought that he was as other men. He couldn't tolerate the thought that he needed help, nor could he lower himself to ask for it. He was willing to accept the fact that others were spiritually inept, but that he couldn't save himself, that he needed someone else's help—that was just too monstrous, too grotesque to consider. His pride would not allow it. So he rejected mercy, even though he couldn't satisfy justice. Consequently, his heart had not broken under its weight of sin—it just turned to stone instead. He would rather be damned by justice than ask God for mercy.

At first he was offended by what I said, and for a while our friendship hung in the balance. But little by little he realized that his rejection of the idea of mercy amounted to a rejection of Christ. Finally one day he said, "That's really it, isn't it. I'm just too proud to admit my weakness and ask for help. I don't want to admit my imperfection even to myself, let alone to the bishop or to God. My pride would rather see me in hell paying the full penalty of justice than see me humble myself to seek the Lord's mercy." Eventually he went to his bishop and with considerable courage confessed a sin carefully hidden for decades. And as he humbled himself and sought mercy rather than justice for himself in his own life, a marvelous thing happened. As he came to know he was forgiven by grace for someone else's sake, as he realized what had been done for him as a favor, as he realized what an incredible break he had been given gratis, he began to act with patience and mercy and forgiveness toward those around him. He was no longer a hard man.

But why would You do this for me?
Because I love you.
But it doesn't seem fair.
That's right. It's not fair at all—it's merciful.
It is, after all, a gift.
But how can I possibly deserve such a gift?
Don't be silly. You can't. You don't. This gift
is offered because I love you and want to
help you, not because I owe it to you
But how can I ever repay You?
There you go again. Don't you get it yet?
You can't repay me, not you or all the billions
like you. Gifts of this magnitude can never
be repaid. For what I've done out of love for you,
you can only love me back, and seek to become
what I am—a giver of good gifts.
And that is good news.

Footnotes

^1. See Calvin P. Rudd, "Salvation of Children," in Encyclopedia of Mormonism, ed. Daniel H. Ludlow, 5 vols. (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1992), 1:269.

^2. The Greek word charis, translated here as "thank," is the standard New Testament word for "grace."

^3. "I Stand All Amazed," Hymns (Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 1985), no. 193.

^4. Several places in scripture define faith as "commitment," thus including in the single word faith both belief and behavior. In this special sense, it could be said that we are saved by faith alone (i.e., by a total commitment-by our belief and our behavior).

^5. In Philippians 2:12 ("work out your own salvation with fear and trembling"), Paul did not teach that we can save ourselves. He of all people knew better. Rather he meant, as the next verse explicitly states, that while we may do the work, God is the one working in us, with us, and through us both to desire and to accomplish the common goal of our salvation. Both our work and God's grace are necessary.