GraceNotes Podcast: Recent Episodes
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GraceNotes is a weekly publication of Bill Knott, Editor/Executive Publisher of Adventist Review/Adventist World magazines.. Take the opportunity to share a favorite GraceNote from this page with someone you're praying for, or someone who simply needs to hear the good news of God's unfailing love.
If grace was as fragile as many believe it to be, we could never be truly confident that our lives have been fully redeemed and deeply restored.
We would always be unsure of what God wants us to be most certain of: “For as the heavens are high above the earth, so great is His steadfast love toward those who fear Him; as far as the east is from the west, so far He removes our transgressions from us” (Psa 103:11-12).
Our fears and doubts about the durability of grace don’t begin to change the ways God loves us. Our anxieties that the great Lover of our souls will be as fickle and unsteady as we are merely deprive us more time in His grip, more joy in His presence, and more certainty in His promise: “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through Him” (John 3:17).
Trust the arms that grip us at our worst, and the Love that will not let us go.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
If you are truly saved through faith, then you are daily praying grace down into the cracks and crevices of life, into the dim and unlit corners where fear and fate and faithlessness more often hold the keys.
Understanding—really understanding—grace rarely happens through a flash of intellectual enlightenment: Paul’s own Damascus Road was just the first of many miles spent learning grace.
Each week we find how weak and meager is our faith, how little we actually trust the great bold verities announced by Jesus and His gospel, how much we fear that what He promises to give is too good to be true.
“Increase our faith” is the most honest prayer we ever murmur—and the one He most delights to answer.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“If God is good and grace is real, why do I still feel badly about my mistakes?”
A popular illusion of new Christians is that the rescue wrought for them by Jesus is supposed to save them from any sorrow about their past. In the shallow mythology we clutch, everything about our new life as believers ought to be “peace, light, and joy.”
Yet God’s Word poignantly asks, “Do you not know that God’s kindness leads you to repentance?” (Rom 2:4). Assured at last of God’s continuing affection for us, we look more honestly at how often we ignored His love, mistreated others, and damaged our own happiness. That new-found honesty naturally disturbs us, for we see clearly what we previously refused to see.
A heart made clean and new by God will also experience real sorrow for the past. As the psalmist tearfully admitted, “Against you—you above all—I have sinned; I have done what is evil in your sight” (Psalmist 51:4).
The grace that saves us also changes us, for real love would never leave us where we were. Embrace the new and better life to which God’s kindness has now led you, even through some honest tears.
Now stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“Because he’s never said he’s sorry”. . . “She kept the ring my grandma wanted me to have” . . . “He laughed at how I cringed at his cheap insult.”
All these—and more—as reasons that we can’t—or won’t—forgive. We acidly rehearse the story of our injury, deepening divides and festering in feuds. Soon we come to like the bitter taste of bile, for anger feels powerful, and power is what we want.
But Jesus offers us another way—a path of grace that doesn’t measure wounds and grievances. “Love your enemies,“ He urges. “Do good to those who hate you. Bless those who curse you. Pray for those who hurt you” (Luke 6:27-28).
Such kindness seems impossible until—unless—we grasp how greatly we have been forgiven. Our graciousness is still the greatest sign that we have understood our real state, for “a person who is forgiven little shows only little love” (Luke 7:47).
If you never need forgiveness, then stay as hot and angry as you dare. But if your story calls for grace, accept the Father’s timely gift.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
The old proverb reminds us, “Some things must be seen to be believed.”
And so it often is with grace: we can’t believe in something so miraculous—so unexpected, undeserved—even though God’s Word repeatedly declares it: “By grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God” (Eph 2;8).
Until we see grace in the flesh—in someone near enough to care—we wonder if such kindness is just rich, warm-hearted myth. The one we thought an enemy who doesn’t reach for his revenge; the friend who quietly forgives our rudeness or our thoughtlessness; the colleague who works overnight to make up for our lack—each gives us just a glimpse of that unbounded and eternal grace that always seeks our flourishing. God sifts His goodness into every day through those who love has changed.
We learn grace from gracious people. In unsung, unexpected ways, they live the kindness in the heart of God.
Live warmly, joyfully yourself. You’ll be the grace some other seeker needs.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
What makes us valuable to God—all stubborn, broken, wayward as we are?
It’s not the sometime good we do—
forgiving unrepentant foes;
feeding hungry kids afar;
warming pews and saying prayers;
performing unpaid mission work.
Not one of these, nor all of them, can make us dearer to the One who chooses from His unforced, unrequired love to cherish every soul He made. “I have loved you with an everlasting love,” He says. “I have drawn you with unfailing kindness” (Jer 31:3).
This grace confounds the wisdom of the world:
no ledgers; no accounts;
no keeping track of charities;
no earning credit with a boss;
no bank of kindnesses to set against our debts and deficits.
We fall back in amazed relief: “I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love” (Rom 8:38).
Grace leads us, in the end, to praise—the joy we were created for.
Now stay in it. -Bill Knott
“If you could go back in time to change one thing about your life, what would it be?”
The answers range from comic to cautionary: “I’d be better-looking.” “I’d have a smaller nose.” “I’d make a lot of money.” “I’d marry a different person.” For each of us, there’s one thing we would change to give ourselves a better story.
“I’d understand God’s love much sooner in my life,” say the truly wise among us. For them, it’s not a classic story of regret: there’s no self-loathing, guilt, or fear. What they would change is a misperception built on what the culture tells us about God instead of what the Scriptures say: “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them. And He gave us this wonderful message of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:19).
They only wish they could have known the Father’s love more deeply, for a longer time. How much the world of everyday would have been colored differently if they had known all along that “underneath are the everlasting arms” (Deut 33:27).
Give me more joy. Let me be always washed in grace. Give me more years of knowing what is really true: “God sent His Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through Him” (John 3:17).
Now stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Breathe deeply now, and let your heart grow quiet as you turn from sins forgiven.
“By this we shall know that we are of the truth,
and reassure our hearts before Him whenever our hearts condemn us;
for God is greater than our hearts, and He knows everything” (1 John 3:19-20).
It’s not the voice of God that drives you on to fear, or rush, or labor past your strength.
We dare not make the Spirit own our anxiousness or lack of peace.
God is always on the side of what gives life, builds hope,
and moves us even one small step toward balance.
His grace is meant to keep us breathing, as well as for our saving.
The day that Jesus wants to bring us healing is the day that we are living,
not only when our destinies are weighed.
“I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10).
His grace is for today and always.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“We must hear the gospel every day because we forget the gospel every day.”
Attributed to many pens, the proverb is profoundly true, regardless of who wrote it. Even though it undermines our vanity of recall, it underlines that we frequently ignore the most important things. Our default thinking is unarguably a fault: we trust ourselves to do what is impossible.
For millennia, humans have sought connection and reconciliation with the gods through sacrifice, through costly gifts, through candles lit and pilgrimages made. With fear and trembling, we have offered up our best to appease the anger we assumed was gathering in heaven.
But the good news brought in Christ and wrought by Christ declares a new paradigm: “For 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).
The gospel contradicts—and counteracts—the wisdom of the ages. Yes, we can be made right with God—because He loves; because He gave; because Jesus made a pilgrimage from heaven to earth; because He sacrificed His life to bridge the chasm chiseled by our pride.
Don’t apologize for your weak, inconsistent memory. Every human shares it. Surround yourself with what is true—with words of grace.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
What stops our progress, pulls us backward, paralyzing us with shame?
The past—our past—the foolish, broken history that trails each of us. None can escape its power: all feel its painful weight. Even those the world calls saints are men and women who know their brokenness most fully. The great apostle Paul famously moaned, “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Rom 7:24).
When there’s no one left to dazzle or impress, we cringe in the half-light of our memories. We’re stalked by all the things we’ve done, and increasingly, by the good we’ve left undone. What could we have been thinking?
But the grace of God shines as bright as the Son: “We have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world” (1 Jn 2:2). In kindness the Father offered us in Jesus the living, breathing, open-hearted embodiment of grace. Because He willingly embraced the weight of our mistakes while making none Himself, our lives can rise above the shadows and despair. He made His mission unmistakably clear: “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (Jn 10:10).
Embrace that rich, abundant life.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Sit quietly with grace, and let it work its slow, substantial change.
Nothing is more common for those whose hearts have been divinely warmed than to pledge themselves to new, exacting duties. We’ll read our Bibles for an hour each day; pray for all our friends and even for some enemies; tell “unconverted” colleagues, neighbors—even strangers—of their task to do as we have done. We move at hyper-speed as if to make up for the months—the years—when we ourselves were unresponsive to the gospel.
But what we need—and what our friends and enemies much need—is that we answer the first call of grace: “Be still, and know that I am God” (Ps 46:10). Our rush to vow new righteous duties, work new holy deeds, and tell what we have only started to experience is often just another act of foolish self-atonement.
Heaven wisely urges us to quiet. “This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: ‘Only in returning to Me and resting in Me will you be saved. In quietness and confidence is your strength’” (Isa 30:15-16).
Grace received always grows into grace well-lived. But beware of pledging your good deeds until you’ve more fully learned all that the Lord has kindly done for you.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“This is not your own doing” (Eph. 2:8).
One author calls it “the most contrary line in human history”—six words that run against our culture, schooling, and experience.
We push ourselves from bed to answer the alarm we set just hours before. We wash and eat and ready clothes for work, conscious that one slip in our performance may unravel all the day. We move ourselves to work to push through hours built on grit and weary bodies. Then we cycle back again, preparing for the round that starts with that insistent first alarm. What, in all of this, is not of our own doing?
And yet the Scripture is insistent: none of this, for all its stress and sometime glory, can make us right with God—even if our work is feeding homeless people or lighting candles in a church.
But the phrase that cuts against the grain begins with something only God can do: “By grace you have been saved through faith” (Eph. 2:8). In undeserved mercy, each of us is offered hope and light and daily joy if we will trust Christ’s hand to make us whole. Even the alarm sounds kinder; the labor of the day becomes our gift of gratitude.
“Salvation belongs to the Lord” (Ps. 3:8). Only He can turn grit into grace, our work dirge to a song, our inability into witness.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
What makes your eyes light up with glee, or stirs you to an unforced smile?
Is it the 4-year old who stomps through puddles—without boots? Is it the lily blooming on some sun-drenched bank, so hidden no one else can find it? Is it the ballad from your youth that fills your thoughts with gentle love?
So grace delights us when we learn that it is God’s first way of seeing us—that He is glad to see us dancing in the rain, and loving every growing thing, and finding hope in much-loved songs. It is His joy to know our joy: He made us for receiving love and sharing it with others.
And when we chide the gleeful child, or calculate the price of flowers, or brush away the tenderness we knew, we turn our backs on His warm grace to find cold comfort in self-righteousness.
Only God is always right, and only God is always gracious. Jesus said of His Father, “He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust” (Matt 5:45).
Receive His gift. Enjoy His grace.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
If you can’t recall the day or the hour you came to faith, you’re in good company.
Millions of believers candidly describe both deep faith in Jesus as their Saviour and an inability to recall just when it happened—a “sunrise experience” as one author calls it.
This is the way that grace unfolds, for “Damascus Road” conversions are far fewer than we claim. That road, it should be noted, was 150 miles long, requiring six days of travel. Grace had been working every mile to soften the heart of the angry man who would become its chief apostle.
So grace also walks with the prodigal as he leaves home; in his disturbing revelries; when he finally “comes to himself”; and when he ultimately is encircled by the father’s arms, and once again wears ring and robe. “For this is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
Grace is the long arc of the Father’s kind intentions—and it may take months or years before that seeking love brings us to clarity and gratitude.
You have always been loved. You have always been sought. And your faith is an equally long arc of learning just how deeply Jesus values you.
Now stay in grace. -Bill Knott
I sing because I'm happy; I sing because I'm free;
For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.
The soprano’s voice soars above the swell of the orchestra, her eyes caught up to heaven. Every heart in the concert hall leans forward, drawn by an ache, a longing.
Why do such moments move us so deeply—in seasons of faith, or in our midnight struggles? Why does our hope cling more tightly to the lyrics of an old hymn than to a hundred bright and restless tunes?
Because we bear reminding—every day—that the God who flung the stars in their courses still sees us; still chooses to see us—in all our tired, ordinary uniqueness. In heaven’s chosen language, there is no “same as that” or “same as them.” Even our unvoiced whispers are heard, fully understood, gently answered.
This is the grace that watches over us, that’s never weary, never indifferent. Jesus made it very clear: “Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to Him than they are?” (Matt 6:26).
Grace sees our tears, knows our stress, and comforts our distresses. And grace gives us a song that carries us through every hour to come.
Hope is your sign of grace.
So stay in it. -Bill Knott
It seems, at first, a profoundly foolish question: “Do you want to be healed?”
Jesus once asked it of a paralyzed man who for 38 years had lingered beside a legendary pool.
The answer feels self-evident: who wouldn’t instantly reach out for healing, for wholeness, for a mended body and the restoration of fractured relationships?
But Jesus knows how tenderly we caress our wounds; how suffering weaves itself into our core; how grief and bitterness pulse with dark, compelling energy. So He lingers before He heals, honoring the sacred freedom He gave to every soul: “Do you want to be healed?” (John 5:6). “Do you want to live beyond your pain? Do you want to live without rehearsing narratives of those who injured you, or why your bitterness is justified?”
It was not an easy question then; it never is an easy question now. Yet Jesus asks again, for His grace is neither hurried nor forced. Will we be remade, renewed, restored? Or will we settle again onto familiar broken ground, grimly content to recount the ancient wounds that now define us?
Grace passes by your mat today. The question stirs your waiting place, echoing around your pool.
Take the hand that reaches for you. Respond with faith—yes, even trembling faith—and grace will lift you to your feet.
Then stay in it. -Bill Knott
So you don’t have perfect faith. There are moments—even hours or days—when trusting God’s continued goodness seems beyond your reach. You wonder if the effort of this life of trust is wise—or yields anything.
Join the crowd—the great, blood-washed crowd of those who say they follow Jesus. Unlike the spiritually intimidating stories we often tell each other, there are no sturdy souls who never know a moment’s doubt—who always sing the sun up in the morning and bless the coolness of the night. We invent such myths in hope that we might yet grow into them, more righteous than our peers.
But real life has real tests—when our money, strength, or patience come up short; when secretly we envy the ultra-rich, the ultra-smooth; the carefree media influencer. With the psalmist we complain: “Surely I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocence” (Psa 73:13).
The same gracious Word that voices our human frustration also gives us words to say to our Creator when faith is thin or weak: “Yet I still belong to You; You hold my right hand. You guide me with Your counsel, leading me to a glorious destiny” (Psa 73:23-24). Grace plucked us from our foolishness: “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Phil 1:6).
Trust the Lord who called you on to life eternal. And stay in grace.
-Bill Knott
Is grace, at heart, believable?
‘Of course,’ you say. Why not believe? It’s the noun that always follows “Amazing,” the tune the bagpipers skirl at dawn; the soaring hymn a tenor lifts into a vast cathedral.
For some, it may be what the sermon is about, or what we learned in Bible class.
But is grace believable at the baseline of our fears—in those tough places in the soul where shame and memory combust to make us cringe again, again? Does grace reach down below the intellect, the wonderful idea, and heal those wounds we so much never want to show the world?
At its heart—and in our hearts—grace offers us what no one else is giving. Redemption is for real—for all those moments and those years we’ve blown it big and ruined all our future. “All we like sheep have gone astray. We’ve turned every one to his own way. And the Lord has laid on Him”—on Jesus, the only righteous one who ever lived—"the iniquity of us all” (Isa 53:6).
It seems too good—too kind; too merciful—to be true. And so we linger in the half-light of our fears, humming a tune we dream might yet be ours.
The hymn has outlived every copyright. God’s grace is clearly in the public domain.
Make this song yours. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“What if?” the soldiers wondered, as they watched His body sag. “A miracle man with a brazen claim—could He really rise again?”
“What if?” the wise ones wondered, with a nagging, dull unease. “Could disciples come in the dead of night and spirit His body away?”
“What if?” the governor worried, as he doubled the guarding troops. “Is there truly a power in heaven or hell that would dare to break my seal?”
But the doubts that rang in their hollow souls had begun to lose their grip. This Man had life—gave life—gives life. No sword, or spear, or stone, or seal could keep the dawn from rising.
What if the night is over? What if He won’t stay dead? What if the dying Lamb of God becomes our living Head?
When we begin to doubt our doubts, the life of faith begins. We pull the morning toward us, certain only of one thing: we’ve had enough of night and fear and death and loss. There’s joy beyond the cross.
Resurrection—His and ours—begins to change the world. So pick some lilies. Sing His song. Plant some kindness. Practice risen life each day.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We walk the Passion story slowly, knowing it will seem to end as far too many stories end—with pain, with shame, with lonely death.
The palm fronds we waved wildly on Sunday were woven into simple brooms that swept up 30 tarnished silver pieces; in ropes that tied Messiah to the blood-stained lashing post on Friday. All things trudge slowly toward His end, as if no other fate could be.
Of Himself, the Saviour said: “The Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn Him to death . . . They will mock Him, and spit upon Him, and flog Him, and kill Him” (Mk 10:32-33).
But never miss the finish of His prophecy: the future of the world hangs on it, or actually, on Him. “And after three days He will rise again” (vs 33).
There is no darkness, long or dull, that Light can never penetrate. It’s not a story that must end with grief on Friday afternoon. “If we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with Him” (Rom 6.8).
Keep walking through His Passion, then, for it will end as you will end—with hope, with light, with joy, with life. The morning dawns, and so will you.
Now stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Ever long for the bad old days when you could at least depend upon yourself?
We tire of grace when we’re tempted by the easy arrogance of effort. “If I just say another prayer; read another Bible verse; light another candle—then I can pull the love of God toward me and close up any distance.” We think to work our way back toward His will with scrupulous self-discipline—with vegetables, and fasting, and money given to the homeless. We want connection, but without the cross.
As satisfying as it can feel to deliberately make the life of faith more painful and intense, the gospel shines with clarifying grace: “We proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles” (1 Cor 1:24).
The self-denial for which Christ calls isn’t made of beets or gruel or things we naturally dislike. It’s the denying of our own efforts, of the value of our “good deeds,” and yes, of our own homemade theology to which the Saviour calls us. “Christ made us right with God; He made us pure and holy, and He freed us from sin. Therefore, as the Scriptures say, ‘If you want to boast, boast only about the Lord’” (I Cor 1:30-31).
“Jesus answered them, ‘This is the work of God, that you believe in Him whom He has sent’” (John 6:29).
Now stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The great illusion of our age is that the world must be divisible into clans and races and nations who inevitably hate each other. The histories of some countries—and entire political careers—have been built on this dangerous idea.
Left versus right; rich opposed to poor; theists against atheists; the educated despising the illiterate. Trillions of dollars, euros, yen and rubles have been invested to sustain this pernicious illusion, for much money can be made by channeling hatred and distrust.
So it is that grace, which teaches us that “God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us” (Rom 5:5)—grace will always seem so strange and otherworldly to people who believe that they have been fated to hate those different from themselves. The gospel declares of Jesus, “For He is our peace; in His flesh He has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us” (Eph 2:14).
Grace is the promise that we can learn to love without divisions, without malice, without hate.
And when it comes to you, you’ll stay in grace. -Bill Knott
If you should meet a person happy with his life, or joyful in her story, you’ve likely met someone experiencing the deep security of living in the grace of God.
He can look upon the rubble of his past with clarity but without shame—for he has found the liberating power of forgiveness. She can candidly assess the threats and stress the future may portend without the customary fear: her “life is hid with Christ in God” (Col 3:3).
They do not take themselves too seriously, for they are quick to tell that all they have and all they are is given them in mercy.
You watch them pour themselves into the broken, fear-filled lives of those around them, for grace never was for them alone. Their peace shines like a steady and unblinking light in all the aching darkness.
Mark them well, for this is who you want to be—who you can be—by saying “Yes” to grace.
“Since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us” (Rom 5:1).
And when your life is also glad and free, you’ll stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It’s the critic’s counterclaim, the “faithful doubter’s” last redoubt:
“Say less about the grace of God, and more of human duty.”
Afraid that others may secure by gift what they haven’t won by long, intensive effort, persistent voices challenge those who speak and preach of grace.
“You make it all too easy,” they complain. “Where’s the struggle, pain, and sacrifice? Where are the nights of deep uncertainty when you despair of ever being right with God?”
There’s just one answer for such fears, and it originated in the mind of God: “God saved you by His grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God” (Eph 2:8).
Only the Word that comes from God can overcome the human pride that needs its efforts recognized. The apostle Paul, filled with the truth that rests in God, emphatically declared: “For we hold that a person is justified by faith apart from works prescribed by the law” (Rom 3:28).
Those who truly grasp God’s grace are never slow to live His love. The life of holiness begins when we receive what we can never earn.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Grace seems to fail a million times an hour. In every place where mercy isn’t honored and accepted, grace appears an unwise use of heaven’s kindness and forgiveness.
Hard hearts chill with chosen hate. Clenched hands will not open to the gift. Death and dryness multiply.
But grace is never limited by how it is received. Like some deep-hidden spring whose source cannot be found, grace flows to sinners and to saints, without regard to worthiness. Some are only temporarily dampened by the flow, but remain defiantly unchanged. Others are made soft and pliable by the same unending grace—new clay from which the Lord will fashion recreated men and women.
So grace is neither a reward for good behavior nor a prompt to honor good intentions. Grace is the decision of our God—who cannot fail—to offer all of us what we have not deserved, have often not desired, and certainly could never earn. It flows from God’s unending heart of love.
“The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come.’ And let everyone who hears say, ‘Come.’ And let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift” (Rev 22:17).
Now stay in it. -Bill Knott
How does God’s grace invade our daily conversations?
Certainly not by retreating to our separate corners and hurling brickbats at each other. Of all the “stuff” we absorb from our angry culture, the habits of accusing and deriding are undoubtedly the worst.
But as grace finds a home in us, we grow more willing to admit that we might be mistaken. Receiving grace requires we confess we are wrong, and always have been. We’ve misunderstood the love of God, imagining Him as only angry, always disappointed. We’ve wandered into deeds that brought us shame and guilt. We’ve argued for ideas that were vanquished at the cross. “All we like sheep have gone astray” (Is 53:6).
So grace prepares us for a new way of talking with each other, even when we disagree—especially when we disagree. “You could be right”—"I might be wrong”: these are the tools of reconciliation and renewal. Look carefully at grace before you look your opponent in the eye.
There is no greater joy than laughing with a former enemy.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
And so you’ve got him “dead to rights,” as old books used to say. You’ve caught him in the lie, the theft, with poison pills he slipped into the office water cooler. There’s no way he can wriggle free from how he injured you and hurt your reputation. Now all your moral juices seethe because—for once—you have the power.
This is the crucible where what we understand of grace is seen and fully known. If grace has found a home in us, it pries our fingers off the iron mace of moral superiority, of glorying in punishments we can exact. Grace places us just where our enemy now stands. He has done wrong—just as we do. He has told lies—as we have done. He has betrayed a confidence—and which of us has not?
Grace always has a claim on justice, but chooses not to push that claim. The Bible says, “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them. And He gave us this wonderful message of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:19). If God, whom we supremely injured, sees us with such rich love that He accepts the death of Christ in place of what we fully earned, grace can be learned—by us, in us, through us, for others.
Grace lets us first unclench our fists so we may offer enemies our open hands.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Eyelids flutter, and we sense—more than we see—how differently light looks than when we fell exhausted into bed. Awareness jabs at everything—the too-hard pillow; the blanket thin against the chill; the shoulder sore from hours of unmoving. Awake—too soon; too late; too urgently. The undone stuff of yesterday grabs our first thoughts. Oh no! Not that! How much? How soon?
And in those fitful moments, the impulse to be grateful for our lives so easily departs—chased out by hot adrenaline. Should we—could we—offer thanks for grumpy children shepherded to school; for spouses facing drama at the office; for traffic ribbons of red taillights?
Yet waking up is still a grace, and drawing breath is still a gift. Everything we count as sameness and routine is proof that life still offers possibilities; that things don’t stay just as they were; that hope—and hopeful people—still endure.
Grace saves more than souls and minds—the planned, deliberate parts of us. Grace floods our zone with oxygen; with joys too small to write them down; with love as wordless as an infant’s fingers curled about our own. And gratitude—perhaps a prayer we’ve memorized; an easy sigh of heavenward contentment—gratitude equips us for the journey of these hours, this life, and on to life eternal.
“I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly” (John 10:10), Jesus says to all who put their mornings in His care.
Awake to life and love and grace.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
Below our deepest hurt and darkest shame, there is the grace of God—forgiving us, rebuilding us, repairing all that’s broken.
Above our highest joy and most euphoric moments, there is the sheer delight of God—applauding us, encouraging, enlarging celebration.
Through every stage of every journey—in trust, in fear; in faith, in doubt; in youth, in gray maturity—we’re never left alone or told to make it on our own. Despite appearances, the road is never empty.
Around us each are Jesus’ everlasting arms—sustaining us, protecting us, embracing us. His hands are ever on us.
“For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things” (Rom 11:36).
“Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? . . . No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us” (Rom 8:39).
We are befriended by the One who rules all time and space.
Receive the gift. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
One hundred years ago, the world knew all about ticker-tape parades.
Returning war heroes, major politicians, and sometimes even aviators and athletes would be honored by a slow-motion ride in an open-topped limousine through the canyons of New York City’s financial district, showered by literally millions of paper fragments from stock ticker machines. It was the ultimate symbol of popular success.
No wonder so many dreamed of that day when they would ride in the convertible, waving slowly to the thousands lining the way.
But when it comes to how our lives find meaning and renewal, we aren’t the hero in this parade. Though our egos, our music, and so much of our “faith talk” put us in the spotlight, reveling in the shower of ticker-tape, this celebration isn’t about us. This parade is for Jesus, “the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting Him, He endured the cross, disregarding its shame. Now He is seated in the place of honor beside God’s throne” (Heb 12:2).
Grace isn’t just about making us feel special, celebrated or affirmed: those are fortunate results, not purposes. Grace truly understood is the grateful cheer going up from millions of rescued hearts to the One who made it happen through His sacrifice and love.
There’s just one hero in this story. And it’s not me—or you.
Now stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We celebrate achievement in every arena of our daily lives, and rightly so.
Parents rejoiced when we first slept through the night; the first time we rolled over in the crib; when we finally tolerated the puréed squash; when we took our first tottering steps.
We were congratulated for learning our numbers; mastering the alphabet; riding a bicycle; reading a sentence. People cheered when we scored the soccer goal; sank the jump shot; hit the home run.
Accolades flowed if we exceeded our peers in history, algebra, languages, or physics.
Employers nodded appreciatively at résumés crammed with academic and professional excellence.
That’s why we find ourselves so unprepared for the unexpected gift of grace,
for which we didn’t work, and which we never earned.
t takes us days, months—often years—to quiet our over-trained and striving souls long enough to receive what God says only He can provide.
“God saved you by His grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it. For we are God’s masterpiece” (Eph 2:8-19).
Grace is the story of what Jesus has achieved for us. Accept His gift, and He will take you further than you’ve ever dreamed.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
A famous journalist once wrote, “The true secret of editing is to know what to place in the wastebasket.”
That’s good counsel for those who seek to live in grace during 2026 as well. The secret of successful living is knowing what to throw away, what to forget, what to discard. In the desk of life from 2025 there are likely many things you’d do better to be without.
Throw away the slights and the insults you received in the old year. Hanging on to them this long has already caused you to be something less than the kind and gracious person you’ve wanted to be.
Throw away the grudges you’ve nourished during the last 12 months. Though they’ve probably provided you with many moments of bitter satisfaction, they haven’t deepened your faith or your kindness even a little.
In 2026, collect coins if you wish; collect stamps; collect postcards; collect tropical fish. But don’t collect grudges. They are part of what lies behind that ought to be forgotten.
And finally, throw away your sins when you’ve repented of them, for Jesus promises to do the same: “I will be merciful toward their iniquities, and I will remember their sins no more” (Heb 8:12). “As far as the east is from the west, so far He removes our transgressions from us” (Psa 103:12).
Grace lets us lean into the future with joy and expectation.
So stay in it. -Bill Knott
So here’s the greatest cause for Christmas joy—not that you deck your house with hundreds of lights or fill your home with dozens of gifts—but that the Lord of heaven and earth entered into the commonness of our lives to be our Saviour from sin and self-absorption.
He’s the reason why at every Christmas a song rises from millions of redeemed men and women to mingle with the anthem of those long-ago angels—a hymn of gratitude and grace.
We discover that life can be something better than a mean little existence between the cradle and the grave. We learn that our day-to-day experience can be full of joy and possibilities, of hope and healing. The glow that began in the midnight fields near Bethlehem has become a radiance none can extinguish: “In Him was life, and the life was the light of all people” (John 1:4).
The gift given us in Jesus is why we search each Christmas for the words of that angel hymn: “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace, good will toward all.”
Gratitude is just another way of saying “Thanks” for grace.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Had He arrived with fanfare from some royal balcony, with heralds officiously announcing His nativity to thousands massed to hear the news, He might have changed the politics of one small corner of the world for 40, even 50, years.
Had He been born in some rich villa spilling down the hillside to the sparkling Aegean, we might find passing mention of His name in annals of the empire.
Had He been birthed and raised among the scholars and the gifted, all that He said and all He taught might yield a footnote in the history of earth’s wisdom.
But heaven was both gracious and strategic. When God gave us His unique and irreplaceable Son, He gave Him to the ones without the power, wealth, or learning. From that first night, the hiddenness of grace that brought Him to the poor, the common, the forgotten has made the story of His birth the fulcrum of all history. He is the truly unforgettable Man.
This Child born to us is fully ours, however we are ranked by those who seem to rule the world. In Jesus, grace became embodied, changing lives, forgiving sins, renewing hope for all who trust the gift He is.
Be strong in grace; be rich in grace; be wise in grace this Christmas.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
The story that brings joy and hope to billions every Christmas brings dread to those corrupted by power.
The old prophecy—fulfilled in the birth of Jesus—that “unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; and the government will be upon His shoulder” (Isa 9:6)—that prophecy rattles every regime built on force, and shakes the citadels of coercion. All the armies they sent and all the dynasties they built will ultimately surrender to a Child with no earthly authority, an infant born in a shed for animals: “Every tongue shall confess that Jesus Christ is the Lord, to the glory of God the Father” (Phil 2:11).
His authority rests on compassion and restoration—the truth that we can be reconciled to God and to each other. The power of attractive love brings Him the loyalty of so many abused by force and greed. “The Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen His glory, the glory as of a Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).
Christmas is a powerful reminder that love will ultimately triumph. The grace we witness in Jesus’ birth is the grace with which He will reign forever.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Come stand with me beneath the waterfall of grace.
There is no waiting line, no jostling for position. There are no elbows, scornful faces, or murmured whispers of contempt. No one here will keep you from receiving what your withered spirit needs.
This is the fellowship of the redeemed. This is the company of those who gladly—daily—open their parched lives to the “washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit” (Titus 3:5).
Grace isn’t some scarce resource, guarded by the worthy, requiring conservation or close rationing as though it might run out. This is the river of life—re-life; renewal; resurrection—flowing from the grace of Him whose great forgiving is “a spring of water gushing up to eternal life” (John 4:4).
Those who really “get” the grace of God keep pulling all those they love into the healing, rehydrating stream. The waterfall keeps getting wider. More and more will be revived.
Step out of dry and into drenched.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The moments that most change our lives aren’t just the big ones when we say “I do,” or land the great new job, or stand on some breathtaking peak to stare at wondrous landscapes. Quiet moments also have within them the stuff of destiny.
That moment—sometimes in a crowd; more often alone—when we trust ourselves to grace—haltingly, even tentatively—becomes the pivot of our everafter.
Our looming fear reminds us always of our brokenness and sin: the record of our foolishness tempts us to believe that only righteous deeds can ever change what we think is the Father’s frown. In reality, “God sent His Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through Him” (John 3:17). The Bible tells us we are deeply and unchangeably loved “while we were yet sinners” (Rom 5:7)—before we knew to tidy up our act, behave accordingly, or polish our veneers.
Jesus is the Father’s standing—kneeling, dying, rising—invitation to trust the love that will not let us go. Grace invites us to embrace the gift we never thought was meant for us, to revel in the long, essential kindness we will never deserve but may always enjoy.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Is there a greater joy than knowing for even one hour that you are in the center of God’s will—that through some miracle of grace, you are aligned with plans the Father made to win you back and win the hearts of those you love?
Is there a better confidence than the one which every Sabbath reminds you that “the earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein”?
Can there be a deeper security than when Christ’s word of certainty penetrates your fears and doubts with the assurance, “He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together”?
The answers to those questions, friends, are “no,” “no,” and “no”—nothing "will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Your hope will rise; your joy will find its wings. Trust is the dawn from which our daylight grows.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We worry for the best of reasons, or so we tell ourselves.
An unexpected bill arrives. The car won’t start. A three-year old grows feverish. Layoff slips are piling up for even long-time workers.
The brooding circle of our fears goes rounding for an answer. In all those moments “in between,” we just can’t break their vast, erosive power. We want control—ours or anyone’s—to hold at bay dark outcomes that we dread.
And God’s Word doesn’t chide us when we worry in our helplessness, nor urge us to “Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive.” We’re given there a clear-eyed glimpse of what is really true about our lives—of God’s deep, constant love for us, for now and for forever: “Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with My victorious right hand” (Isa 41:10).
When we align our fraying hope with heaven’s lasting kindness, we give ourselves to what is truer than our worries: “Now may our Lord Jesus Christ Himself and God our Father, who loved us and by His grace gave us eternal comfort and a wonderful hope, comfort you and strengthen you in every good thing you do and say” (2 Thes 2:16-17).
Grace teaches us to trust what Christ has done, is doing, and will do.
Let fear recede and slip away.
Then stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Here’s a good word for all those self-help strategies.
The websites and the bookstores are crowded with a million crafted plans for how to lose unwanted weight, get control of personal finances, or marry the person of our dreams. Millions of pounds of body fat have been shed; ten million family budgets have been strengthened and secured—and at least a handful of romances have been kindled by wise tips on what makes us more attractive.
These titles tap a human ache for personal improvement, for better health, for successful relationships. We each have somewhere deep within potential to make better choices—and find better outcomes.
But self-help strategies can’t address the even more persistent ache for redemption and recovery. We’re powerless to change the facts: “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom 3:23), the Bible tells us. “No one is righteous—not even one” (Rom 3:10).
So heaven has a strategy that changes both our here and our hereafter: “For God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them” (2 Cor 5:19).
When we couldn’t do a thing to change our lostness and our brokenness, the deep, unending grace of God offered us eternal life for all who trust in Jesus.
Self-help has its place: that place is not your forever destiny.
Only grace will do.
So stay in it. -Bill Knott
You’ve heard the song a thousand times, but have you lived the words?
For more than 250 years, believers have cherished the clear simplicity of “Amazing Grace.” Celebrated recordings 50 years ago by bagpipe bands and pop artists catapulted the old song to international prominence as a kind of “hymn for the world.” Millions resonate with the ache it expresses for freedom, redemption and a future.
But buried in its timeless lines is a simple summary of an equally timeless Bible truth: “God sent His Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through Him” (John 3:17).
John Newton’s memorable lines capture our natural wretchedness, our lostness, our inability to truly understand our plight, and our resulting fear. Filled with light only the gospel can bring, his verses also celebrate recovery, relief, clear vision, and being found by the seeking love of the Father.
The author of “Amazing Grace” knew what millions who blithely sing his hymn have never fully grasped: the grace that saves us doesn’t override our choice as moral beings. We must agree to let the redemption achieved by Jesus stand in place of all we’ve done. “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved” (Rom 10:9).
So let the old song lead you to new life, new hope, new joy. Embrace the grace that Jesus always offers.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
It’s natural to think of the story of our lives as a gradually rising line of progress.
We were once toddlers: now we stride—and even race—through professions and relationships. Our minds have grown acute: we’ve mastered subtlety and sarcasm, posturing and self-promotion. We’ve learned the fine art of “faking it until we make it.”
But the growling in the basement grows insistent. We sense—and if we read God’s Word, we know—that He’s not deceived by the polished spiritual résumé that a dozen self-help books have taught us to prepare. “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” (Rom 3:23) the Bible says.
Our finest spiritual achievements are illusions we’ve chosen to believe, because “the heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” (Jer 17:9). Candor—full, undistracted clarity about our lives—reveals the widening gap between our best efforts and God’s expectations.
Enter a Saviour—“fully human in every way,” (Heb 2:17) but without sin. “God made Him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor 5:21). He carries both the weight and the memory of our brokenness so far away that we can finally discover the joyful life we’ve always wanted.
Grace promises welcome relief for all who trust in Jesus. There’s healing redemption in no other.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Ah, the joys of a clear conscience.
Entering a room of jostling colleagues, sure you’ve spoken kindly of each one. Finishing your tax return with certainty you’ve paid each charge the law required. Walking by mouth-watering chocolates for six days straight without even opening the box.
This doesn’t sound like your story? You either?
The inner voice that calls to mind our secret crossings of the line is rarely ever silent. While waiting for much-needed sleep, we churn on memories we’d love to lose. We’ve whittled down our rivals; we gave ourselves deductions for “unspecified” expenses; we bought replacement boxes of those chocolate cremes we can’t resist. The list our consciences won’t leave alone is long—and growing longer.
Which makes grace even lovelier when we discover its power and its healing.
When God forgives us through the sacrifice of Jesus, He chooses—in His grace—to forget the very things we otherwise could not forget. “As far as the east is from the west, so far does He remove our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12).
The final word about our lives is not a litany of pride or gluttony or lust. The word is love—the kind that will not let us go.
In grace, we may forget the things God chooses to forget.
So stay in it. -Bill Knott
It’s natural enough to prize what benefits me most.
Self-interest is the driving force in almost all our culture. Do I like it? Does it taste good? Did it make me laugh? Does it put money in my pocket? We measure almost everything by what we get and gain.
And so it’s natural to think of something as extravagant as God’s unprecedented kindness as a kind of fortunate transaction that wipes away our past and entitles us to heaven.
But God’s deep kindness in sending Jesus as the bearer of our sins was never only meant to “save a wretch like me.” Yes, grace redeems us first as individuals, but never leaves us spiraling in spiritual self-interest.
The purpose of the love of God is that we freely give what we’ve received. “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us” (Rom 5:5). The stream of grace should always have an outlet, flowing from God’s heart through yours to water other barren soil. What you receive, you’re meant to share.
Grace always has a global span: it always was a global plan. “For this is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
The love that saves us makes us gracious, loving as we have been loved.
So stay in it. -Bill Knott
Have you ever listened to a dull and tired song—only to be stirred and thrilled when it reprised in some new, higher key?
Then you know something of the grace of God, whatever else your story tells.
Grace comes to us as unexpected joy when our performance, short or long—had lifted neither us nor anyone around us. We were muddling through the music, vocalizing rote notes and mangling the lyrics. We didn’t know a brighter, higher anthem lay hidden in the lines.
But God in kindness teaches us to sing of faith so rich and love so sweet we are amazed we never knew it sooner. With one much-humbled, transformed saint named Paul, we happily exclaim, “Although I am the very least of all the saints, this grace was given to me to bring to the gentiles the news of the boundless riches of Christ and to make everyone see what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God, who created all things” (Eph 3:8-9).
Grace pulls us up—our bodies, minds, and especially our hopes—when we’ve been mumbling through the stanzas of our yesteryears. The God who lives and gives—and gives again—surprises us with freedom from our past and freedom for our future.
Hear what your life sounds like when set in God’s new, saving key.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
When most of what we read and see is governed by some soulless algorithm built to anger us or sell us something—it’s hard to know if joy is real, if love is kind, if gentle words are really meant to bless.
And yet joy lingers, gentleness persists, and tens of millions of times a day, someone whispers “I love you” to a child, a spouse, a friend, a former enemy.
This is true for both those who do not own the name of Jesus and for those who celebrate His power and love: “God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us” (Rom 5:5).
The tenderness we witness, the patient words we find when stressed, the arms with which we wrap the hurting and the sinful—these are the remnants of the love once given at Creation and now given us preeminently in Jesus: “This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior, Christ Jesus, who has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel” (2 Tim 1:9-10).
Resist the anger amped by code. Love with the grace by which you are forever loved.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
“He’s so much better than I am,” we say, proving just how little we know of someone else’s life.
“She’s a saint,” we say admiringly, assuming that the woman we can see is always just as good as we imagine.
We assign a top-notch grade to behaviors we observe, and make assumptions that the life consistency we can’t achieve is somehow available to others.
But grace reminds us of the brokenness we share—each one of us—regardless of the estimate of others.
Behind the fair façade of piety and cool, we each know just how far we fall below the expectations of our God—and how each well-lived life is only, always, saved by grace.
All ranks, all grades, all estimates are vanities and not realities. If you can find a soul not absolutely saved by grace, then you have found the rarest form of human life.
Give up your search: there is no other way.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Going underground is one of humanity’s oldest responses to fear, war, or pestilence.
Archaeologists have uncovered vast subterranean cities, carved out by those who believed that living in the light made them vulnerable. Victims of persecution, fugitives—even families fleeing natural disasters or climate shifts—all chose to dwell where only torches and flickering lamps could pierce the darkness.
But human beings weren’t made for life underground. Our bodies, our minds, and even our food sources depend on what’s green and growing and bathed in sunlight. Only fear—without and within—could cause us to live where we otherwise bury our dead.
And the darkness is never only physical. Living without sunlight distorts our grasp of reality, and even of God. If we never see the sun or the stars of the Milky Way, we think He is no bigger than what scares us.
Yet there is light for us—warm, welcoming, life-giving. God’s Word declares the good news of our liberation: “He has rescued us from the kingdom of darkness and transferred us into the Kingdom of His dear Son, who purchased our freedom and forgave our sins” (Colossians 1:13–14).
You were made to live in the light. Be done with all that’s buried, fearful, and dark.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“I just can’t catch a break,” he sighs, watching floodwaters climb five feet up the walls of his ruined home.
“I’ve got plenty of luck,” she weeps over the crumpled fender of her old Toyota. “It’s just all bad.”
The weary chorus of this world is a dirge about how little control we truly have. Medical bills crush us. Friendships we cherish grow distant and cold. The machines on which our lives depend break down with unnerving frequency. Those we love get sick and die.
Is any of this seen by Someone—anyone—who can do something about it?
To doubting, disheartened people just like us, the apostle Paul wrote one of history’s most radiant lines: “God’s Son was before all else, and by Him everything is held together” (Col. 1:17). With all their seeming randomness and pain, our lives and our futures are held in the embrace of One whose arms stretched wide for us from a broken tree: “God was pleased for Him to make peace by sacrificing His blood on the cross, so that all beings in heaven and on earth could be brought back to God” (v. 20).
“I am the Alpha and the Omega—the Beginning and the End,” Jesus said of Himself. Nothing escapes His notice. Nothing lies outside His control. Our pain is real—but it is temporary.
Hope endures. The grace of God outlasts our brokenness.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Most of us inherited a God no kinder than we were—a deity whose major role seemed meting out tough penalties for willful or impetuous mistakes.
Like primitive believers everywhere, we read His displeasure in thunderstorms, bruised knees, and lost puppies—for was there anything for which we weren’t somehow to blame?
So it is that finding grace is the great unlearning of our past, the sweet and joyful discovery that in Jesus, our sins aren’t being counted against us. What we sang in innocence was actually, fundamentally true: “Jesus loves me”—genuinely loves me. He can’t imagine a greater happiness than enjoying my trust and affection.
How glorious to have been wrong about it all—to celebrate the truth that undermines our youthful foolishness and fear. His perfect love still casts out fear, and makes us wise unto salvation.
By grace, our thinking—and our living—is renewed. So stay in grace. -Bill KNott
Ever thought of running away from God?
Like naive children in moments of hot shame and brokenness, we imagine there’s some deeply-hidden spot where what we’ve done cannot be seen, where we can huddle with our guilt. Perhaps in some dark mountain cave. Perhaps beneath the blankets of our bed. Perhaps beneath the cellar stairs.
But God—and grace—are inescapable, and our most private hiding spots are never hid from Him. The psalmist said it best: “Where can I go from Your Spirit? Where can I flee from Your presence? If I go up to the heavens, You are there; if I make my bed in the depths, You are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there Your hand will guide me, Your right hand will hold me fast” (Ps 139: 7-10).
Grace seeks us even when we’ve blown it big—to heal and forgive us, not in vengeance or to punish. We hide in foolishness and fear: God teases us into His light. And when we’re found, hot tears blend into easy, grateful smiles.
Be sensible: choose not to hide.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Sometimes through the dust and smoke, we trace the features of a friend—someone whose rich, remembered kindness soothes the soul and calms the turbulence. We hold on to such people for good reason: they have held us—gripped us, even—when the world seemed topsy-turvy and every voice was loud.
They were—they are—God’s grace in human form, a bit of heaven lingering to give us hope and get us through. In some faint way, they call to mind the one Who came to live among us and be one with us: “And the Word became flesh and lived among us. . . . full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).
Friends hold us for a minute, or perhaps an hour: He holds us for eternity, and promises to never willingly let go. “Be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matt 28:20). Knowing how we doubt His love, Jesus repeatedly reminds us, “Now you are my friends, since I have told you everything the Father told me” (Jn 15:15).
Grace visits us through selfless souls, and heals us through their acts of kindness. The God who motivates such generosity is no further from you than a friend who shares dark roads and waits with you for dawn’s first light.
So when you pray, thank God for friends who live His grace.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
What is the speed of trust?
It’s an odd question, since rapid acceleration and safe, human connection seem antithetical—moving in opposite directions.
And there’s the point—and the reason we don’t attempt lasting friendships while driving Formula 1 cars, in the backstretch of an 800-meter race, or while racing each other to the top of the corporate ladder.
Speed implies competition, a desire to be better than the other. Trust cannot rush, for it unfolds only when our usual pride and combativeness have been set aside.
The God who inhabits a universe where stars collide and light itself moves at more than 670,000,000 miles per hour sent His Son to a tiny planet. He came to walk long, winding roads with us, start conversations in homes and at wells, and play with children. “Though He was God, He did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, He gave up His divine privileges; He took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being” (Phil 2:6-7).
There is no hurrying the pace of trust, and trust is the Father’s fondest hope for us. “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God” (Eph.2.8).
When we trust His grace, we give ourselves to the One who has loved us through all eternity.
Now stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We come naturally by our self-absorption. From our earliest moments, we’re congratulated for taking first steps, trying new foods, mastering new skills, for learning how to navigate the myriad complexities of an ever-widening world. The story is, and has always been, about us—our goals, our striving, our gaining, our getting.
But then one day the world refused to be our private oyster. There was no pearl inside—just grit and sand and disappointment. And we began to long from somewhere deeper than the ocean floor for rescue from our pain, our foolishness, our disillusion with ourselves.
Enter the selfless hero who became one of us to teach us how to find the joy. The Pearl of great price offers each of us His priceless grace. In Jesus, we discover One who never disappoints, who never falls short of saving us, who never walks away in righteous indignation from our follies and our failures. He’s the friend who knows both when to speak and when to be silent, when to laugh and when to weep—the incomparable companion who merged His story with our own. “In Him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28).
His gracious offer of relief and liberation alters every other storyline. And yes, this hero always gets the last word.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Grace isn’t fully knowable inside the monuments we’ve built. Our finest structures merely hint at what the Scriptures call the “breadth and length and height and depth” (Eph 3:18) of love the Father gives us.
Cathedral arches just suggest the soaring kindness of our God. Our well-stocked libraries of knowledge—comprehensively collected; exquisitely curated—tell but a fraction of the story, deeper than our minds can grasp and gentler than our hearts can feel.
Until you stand upon the ocean shore, calling actively to mind that all your sins have been cast into its depths when you believe in Jesus (Mic 7:19), you’ve only sampled moments of God’s grace.
Until you stare in wonder at a midnight sky replete with billions of star galaxies—unknown to us yet still within the orbit of God’s grace—you cannot grasp the promise made to Abraham, whose faith was counted righteousness: “I will multiply your descendants beyond number, like the stars in the sky and the sand on the seashore” (Gen 22:17).
We fall in awe before the love that wouldn’t let this planet go: “For this is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
The impulse to adore the God whose love for us is infinite is one sure sign that grace has found a home in you.
So stay in it. -Bill Knott
We dream of exploits that ensure our fame—of fortunes gained or mountains climbed or roles where we control the lives of other, lesser mortals. We gather things—disposables—to fill the hole made urgent by our angry greed.
But we would gladly trade them all to be two modest, undramatic things at once: both deeply loved and finally forgiven.
No accolades or billions earned will ever soothe a heart that can’t be reconciled. No power can heal the wound within unless it offers what no human skill can offer.
For these we need a Father’s “Welcome Home” embrace. For these we need the Sun of Righteousness to rise with healing in His wings (Mal 4:2). For these we need the Spirit’s gentle, unrelenting voice, reminding us of grace.
“For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast” (Eph 2:8-9).
When boasting wanes; when posing fades, there is no finer thing we do than give each other grace we have been given.
It’s time to reimagine your success. Be known for love.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It’s every parent’s greatest joy to see a child at play—freely, joyously at play. And children—of whatever age—only play when they understand they’re safe—deeply, seriously safe.
We don’t play on battlefields, in lightning storms, or when we doubt we’ll ever see tomorrow. And so the God of Scripture frequently must wait until we’ve outlived our fears before we grasp the fullness of His affection. We spend a lifetime learning just how richly we are loved, and why our God is always murmuring, “Fear not.” “Be not afraid.” Or better yet, “You can stop being afraid now.”
Our Father is supremely patient, waiting for the day when we—at last—discover how kind He has always been, and grow accustomed to His goodness. “Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you” (Isaiah 30:18).
Unwind the spool of anxious thoughts that keep you wondering if you are loved, if Jesus deeply values you. Your joy today will be in measure with your trust.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Learning grace is slow and hard the way recovery of any kind is usually slow and hard.
When a bone is broken or a muscle torn, no supply of godly wishing can speed the pace at which the healing happens. This moment’s not for optics, not for show: nothing less than patient, cellular recovery can make us whole again.
And so no project that contemplates the complete overhaul of our personal theology, the transformation of our hearts and minds, and the mending of our wounded relationships should be described as easy or expected in less than years or even decades. Hear the present, active tense of these amazing verbs:
“Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and forget not all His benefits,
who forgives all your iniquity,
who heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the Pit,
who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
who satisfies you with good as long as you live
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s” (Psalm 103:2-5).
We may sometimes be privileged to discern the day on which grace first began to heal us. But it will take millennia at least to help us comprehend the length and breadth and height and depth of grace beyond degree.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Ah, to be the wounded one—the one who gets to be the powerful forgiver. We covet this rare role because we’re usually more sinning than we’re sinned against. And when it comes our turn to show the grace once given us, we linger with the choice, as if it were a heavy thing to pardon what’s been done.
We can’t, of course, refuse forgiveness outright: Jesus tied our own forgiveness to the habit of forgiving. But first, a little groveling, we say. Some real contrition, perhaps a tear or ten. Some promises to never—ever—injure us again.
And so we fall far short of grace. We strike a lender’s bargain with the sinner: pardon only if the penitent submits to our superiority.
But grace is always washinbg someone’s feet—abandoning all power in the goal to make the sinner whole. We cannot—dare not—charge for what was freely offered us. If it’s not free, then it’s not grace.
Remind yourself of how forgiveness made you valuable to you.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“Forgive me,” we say flippantly, painting on a shallow smile, when we discover we are misaligned with someone greater or more powerful—someone who might make us hurt.
We view our error lightly—just a minor inconvenience—and we hope the one offended will quickly do the same. Why do the humbling work of owning all that happened and acknowledging its impact?
But true forgiveness is a thoughtful, time-intensive mercy—never rushed if genuine; never brushed away if real. Unless we face the injury we’ve caused, we ask for restoration without repentance, a mere smoothing of ruffled surfaces. If the needed words are “I’m sorry that I hurt you,” or “I can see how I was wrong,” speak truthfully, and find the needed healing. “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ” (Gal 6:1-2).
And when we are the ones offended and it is our turn to forgive, we plant the seeds of our own future grudges if we pretend a painful hurt is only minor and dismissible. What goes unsaid is usually unforgiven as well. Both grace and truth are called for each time there is an injury.
Only those who know themselves forgiven by the One who was always “full of grace and truth” (John 1:14) ever truly forgive another broken soul. Only in the field of grace can reconciliation blossom.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knot
Wherever grace is welcomed and received, joy follows, just as daylight follows dawn.
And so we can read backwards from so many grayed-out, joyless souls to learn how few have heard and loved and lived the gospel. All fearful, anxious following of Jesus—all dim preoccupation with the things we've done or left undone—reveals that we are still in darkness, wrestling with the shadows Jesus rose to vanquish. “In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:4-5).
So hear the gospel chorus in the songbirds’ pre-dawn trilling, bringing light to weary souls—like yours:
“Arise, shine; for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.
For behold, darkness shall cover the earth,
and thick darkness the peoples;
but the Lord will arise upon you,
and His glory will be seen upon you” (Isaiah 60:1-2).
The Light of all the world invites you: be done with anxious, midnight brooding. The day that dawns is meant to be abundant and eternal, the endless morning of the Son.
And stay in grace. – Bill Knott
In every soul who has ever been healed, conviction rises that they must tell the story of how God’s goodness rebuilt a broken body or a wounded spirit.
Bones got mended; diseases conquered; mobility advanced; relationships renewed. When grace restores what pain has taken, “Then our mouth was filled with laughter,
and our tongue with shouts of joy;
then it was said among the nations,
“The Lord has done great things for them” (Psalm 126:2).
We gladly own we couldn’t—didn’t—heal ourselves. No self-help remedies can knit the muscles of a heart—or reconcile two wounded hearts. Only a power outside ourselves—a love that will not let us go—would care enough to build our peace, to make us whole. And so the world daily echoes with the praise of those who once feared darkness and despair would be their final verdict: “O give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, for His steadfast love endures forever” (Psa 136:1).
So do not be surprised if you should feel like singing—if contagious joy spills on from you to half a dozen or a hundred. Your healing was for them as well as you. “You, God, have turned my mourning into dancing” (Psa 30:11).
Irrepressible—and irresistible—joy is the lasting legacy of grace.
Move in it. And stay in it. – Bill Knott
My pride is stung. My spirit’s wounded. The untrue, unjust thing that someone said, that someone wrote, went viral with unheard-of speed, fanned on by evil angels.
And rising with the bitter righteousness of bile, the fantasy of sweet revenge becomes more urgent every hour. “Strike back!” say Truth and Justice. “Set the twisted record straight. Unmask the gossiper for who he is, for what she wrote. Redeem your ruined reputation.”
And then Grace whispers, “You have already been redeemed. Your reputation is the best that it could ever be because your life is hid with Christ in God. The pleasures of retaliation are nothing—meaningless—beside the joys of being both forgiven AND forgiving.”
Grace dulls our taste for vengefulness, and makes us hungry for the fullness of God’s joy. “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Gal 5:22).
“Taste and see that the Lord is good” (Ps 34:8).
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
If you revisit all the beaches where you built sandcastles in the sun, chances are, you’ll never even find a one.
The constant pull of wash and wave reduces all the outposts where we once asserted sovereignty. Our turrets and our towers, our moats and battlements have long since lost the struggle to insist on what was never really ours.
And so it is as grace subdues the castles of our pride and self-assertion. The lovely, unrelenting rhythm of God’s kindness and His mercy overruns our fierce objections and erodes our staked positions. While we were sleeping at our stations, we were flooded by forgiveness, cracked and circled by repeated offers of redemption. And for many—all who acknowledge they are beaten—grace reclaims a life that always was the property of God.
Unless you build cement into your soul—unless you daily and deliberately refuse the pull of God’s unceasing love—you’ll yet surrender to the grace that outmaneuvers all our pride. With the apostle Paul, you’ll soon exclaim, “But I received mercy because I had acted ignorantly in unbelief, and the grace of our Lord overflowed for me with the faith and love that are in Christ” (1 Tim 1:13-14).
There is an hour for yielding crumbling fortresses to grace. Your hour has come. The tide is in.
Rejoice in what you used to fight.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It’s the most famous line ever written about grace by an author not recorded in God’s Word: “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.”
Every week, around the globe, it’s sung and said uncounted times, bringing joy and certainty to billions of believers. Whole lives are built on this.
But the lived reality of grace requires that we move beyond the first person voice, and grasp our role within the choir. For while grace operates for each of us as individuals, we learn it by and through and with—and for—believers Christ in grace puts near us. “And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor 3:18).
We gather grace from gracious people. We forgive as we’re forgiven. We speak kindly when we listen to kind words. We risk embracing others when we’ve found the deep security of being gripped in love.
A solo Christian is theoretically possible but practically unheard of. God has ordained that all our growth in grace comes through the community of others. We’re taught; we stretch; we struggle; we discover among the others who are also on the journey. From them we gain what no one wretch might ever know:
“Amazing grace, no sweeter words
Were ever sung by choir;
From them we learn the lovely song,
The passion, and the fire.”
Now stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Savoring the creamy richness of delectable milk chocolate.
Settling into the plush leather of a luxury car.
Dangling your feet in the stunningly blue water of a South Pacific lagoon.
What do these very different life experiences have in common? Each is richly imaged for us by adroit advertisers who correctly sense how desperately we seek relief from everyday hecticity.
We need something to break the cycle: we need a respite from the crushing stress.
But the Word of God reminds us that we manufacture most of all that pains us. “For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard” (Rom 3:23). Our essential uneasiness results from years of choosing the fleeting pleasures of this moment over the joys of God’s eternal friendship.
Is there a better answer than smooth chocolate, deep leather and Tahitian sunsets? “God, in His grace, freely makes us right in His sight. He did this through Christ Jesus when He freed us from the penalty for our sins” (Rom 3:24). “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all” (Isa 53:6).
Grace is an enduring delight because the Lord is risen. The pleasure of His freedom lasts forever.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
What is it in our restless hearts that cannot graciously receive a gift?
A friend invites us to a grand, delightful meal, and even before dessert is served, we’re busy evening the score. We fail to taste the kindly moment because we’re painfully obsessed with making certain our account with one we call a friend is “balanced”—even though it is a dinner spread and not a spreadsheet gleaming in the candlelight.
And so we say to God when He so kindly offers us eternity through what His Son has sacrificed: “That’s truly nice—and in exchange I’ll do 10,000 good, obedient things that makes it seem I’m less in Your debt, and somehow more deserving.”
Grace wounds our pride by disallowing all our offers of equivalence. There is no service we can offer God that even starts to mitigate His gift. Our prayers, our gifts, our sweat, our pain do not begin to make us anything but debtors to the kindness we’ve been given. “In this is love, not that we loved God but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1 John 4:10).
Grace teaches us the habit of receiving what we never can repay—of reveling in it, and telling strangers just how blessed we are.
A heartfelt “thank you” is the best response when offered joy, and peace, and freedom.
Then stay in grace. -Bill Knott
What makes the light of Easter last long past the hymns and lilies?
The ground beneath our feet has moved. The grim, unshaken certainties of loss and grief and toil and death have finally succumbed—and to such stunningly good news: “For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Cor.15.22).
Our muddied tale of violence and pain has yielded in a burst of light that stubbornly rejects a fade: “Christ died for our sins, just as the Scriptures said. He was buried, and He was raised from the dead on the third day” (1 Cor 15:3-4).
Now dawns the interrupted life—the days when joy reclaims its missing hours. The resurrected Christ insists there’ll be a better, brighter finish to our story. We dare to laugh, to stretch, to love: not all things stay just as they were.
We reach for strangers, suddenly so confident that love will win when all is done. We dance with children in the puddles: the rain we used to curse now waters our new life. The sinews of our hope grow strong, resilient—able now to bear what yesterday we feared.
The Great Disrupter has arisen, and He is making all things new.
So rise and walk—and stay in grace. -Bill Knott
In the blackness of Sunday morning, the prodigal opened His eyes and murmured softly, “I will arise and go to my Father, and will say to Him, ‘Father, I have borne the sins of every human who has ever lived. I am worthy to be called your Son.’”
And a reunion postponed for 33 years split the midnight of our world. Out of wretchedness came joy. Out of brokenness came healing. Love triumphed over death. Grace reclaimed what sin had stolen. The Liberator came back to life.
Then the voices of a billion angels shook the galaxies and stars: “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain to receive power and riches and wisdom, and strength and honor and glory and blessing!” (Rev 5:12).
That’s why we sing the story of the resurrection every time we can. This is the truth that underlines our certainty: “He was handed over to die because of our sins, and He was raised to life to make us right with God” (Rom 4:25).
This stone-cold planet, rife with death, smothered in pain and gasping for life, is not our destination: “’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future’”(Jer 29:11).
Your future began with the resurrection of Jesus. Grace declares His victory can be yours.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Left to ourselves, what we know of forgiveness would soon disappear. Left to ourselves, acts of mercy would soon drown in the ocean of self-centeredness. Left to ourselves, what light and warmth still shines in our communities would soon go dark. Why help a neighbor, when he is just one more competitor for dwindling resources?
But the good news is that we are never left to ourselves. Into this dark, unforgiving environment, where greed ran rampant and trust had disappeared, God shared His best—His Son. “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen His glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).
He forgave, and so we slowly learned to forgive. He lifted up broken, wounded people, and in His name, millions of suffering people every day receive care. In the midnight of our anger and self-interest, His grace radiates clarity and power. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).
Grace is the counterweight to the mass of ruin we have brought upon ourselves. One life of love outweighs the world. And the story of His sacrifice to save us and restore the light sings louder than the raging headlines of the day. “For God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them. And He gave us this wonderful message of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:19).
Invite the light of grace into your world.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
A gospel song from long ago gathered the hope of millions into a yearning vision of peace:
“Someday, a bright new wave
Will break upon the shore;
And there'll be no sickness
No more sorrow,nomore war;
And littlechildren
Never will go hungry any more . . .”
That bright new world hasn’t yet arrived. The headlines rage. The nations totter. Famished children in refugee camps wait for promised bread and water.
But for believers in Jesus, our reality has already begun to change, even as we long for the day when God will make all things new. The greatest shift in history has already happened: “For He has rescued us from the kingdom of darkness and transferred us into the Kingdom of His dear Son, who purchased our freedom and forgave our sins” (Col 1:13-14).
That bright new world arrives as, one by one, we accept the grace of Jesus, and then pick up His work in this world—healing; comforting; peacemaking; embracing displaced, frightened kids.
“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed every day” (2 Cor 4:16).
The greatest change is a change of heart. Yours can begin today.
Then stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It never was a straight-line thing, this love we call the grace of God. It circles and surrounds, embraces and includes, until the throngs that praise God’s name are far too vast to count.
In grace, Jesus forgives me. With gratitude, I offer you forgiveness. Because you have been liberated, you pass that grace to one who has offended you. And he in turn, when I offend him, offers me forgiveness. “Be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you” (Eph 4:32).
So grace begins with us as individuals, but never rests until communities are built that flourish with forgiveness. Have you been freed? Then free another. Has God in kindness humbled you? Then serve your neighbors with humility. Have you learned to sing “Amazing Grace”? Then teach it—all four parts for harmony—until a chorus of redemption rises from this broken, fragile world.
Grace isn’t grace if it stops moving, turning, changing lives. When it is blocked; when mercy slows; when forgiveness is extended only to the ones we deem as worthy, the Spirit cannot heal the world, and we sink back into that pinched and parched existence we once knew.
But when we offer what’s been offered us, the river flows; the fields yield; and resurrected life will blossom everywhere.
Keep passing it along.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Those the world calls saints weren’t typically the brittle, stained-glass figures of our pious imagination. The reason their stories are still told is that they trusted God more fully, accepted His freely-offered love, and opened their lives profoundly to His grace.
Their story can be yours as well, for the Bible calls every believer in Christ a “saint.” The apostle Paul interceded for every man or woman who has ever trusted the grace of Jesus: “I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge” (Eph 3:18-19).
Your behavior may be far from perfect. Your faith may waver in the tough moments. Your heart may tell you that God is far away and usually unhappy with you, but “God is greater than our hearts, and He knows everything” (1 John 3:20).
The best news is that grace changes everyone who trusts in Jesus into a saint. You are defined, not by how well you love God, but how deeply He loves you. Your value is determined, not by what you give or how heroically you serve, but by the price heaven paid to rescue you, and make you a saint.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We can’t make ourselves more loveable to God by years of good behavior. And yet, because of grace, we seek to do what pleases Him.
We can’t earn even half an hour in heaven by acts of sympathy or kindness. And yet, because of grace, we spend unnumbered hours caring for the least of all His little ones.
Those shining moments when we sometimes rise to our potential don’t make us even one bit more beloved by God. His love for us cannot be amplified, expanded, or improved.
Grace cancels everything we think we’ve earned, and makes us utterly rely on everything God gives us. It is the end of all our goodness, and the place where faith begins.
Abandon hope in all you’ve done, but deeply trust what God has done.
And stay in grace. Bill Knott
No one can grasp the grace of God unless God teaches him, embraces him, and holds him in an unexpected kindness.
There’s no intellect so vast; there’s not a mystic so devout that he can plumb the depth of love by private contemplation.
“My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord. “And My ways are far beyond anything you could imagine” (Isa 55:8).
Only the mind of God could Father-forth the grace of God. Only the Son who fully knows God’s mind could satisfy His justice and still manifest His love. Only the Spirit, moving softly in our hearts, could teach us of the height, the depth, the breadth—the strength—of love that will not let us go.
The cleverest among us must learn: the genius must be taught. The keenest mind will still confess, “Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too great for me to understand!”(Psa 139:6).
That’s why we linger on our knees. We bow before the mystery that always chooses to invite us, to correct us, to forgive us, and redeem us.
We marvel that God loves us when we’re broken—that He still seeks us when we run away. Like toddlers playing hide-and-seek, we are discovered in plain sight. There is no depth from which He cannot lift us, and no place He will not go.
We are amazed by grace we never fully understand.
But we receive. And stay in grace. Bill Knott
The gospel is only as good as the God who asks us to believe it. If He’s the disappointed, vengeful deity we have pictured in our frightened imaginations, then we do well to hide, to stay away: why would we risk ourselves with Him?
But if Christ is, as His Word says, the Lord whose love for us survives even our worst choices and most defiant behaviors, then we may crawl out from beneath the bed and step out from the shadows.
When I am loved at my lowest and embraced even at the height of my foolishness, then I can safely trust myself to grace.
“By grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God” (Eph 2:8).
I now believe in Him who has always—unequivocally—believed in me.
So here I’ll stand—and stay in grace. -Bill Knott
A muscular young athlete, bench-pressing massive iron; stonemasons, deeply-focused, chiseling the capstone for a tall cathedral spire; a driven young executive, burning midnight oil as she assesses market data.
What do these pictures have in common? All celebrate intense, prodigious effort, spent to take the doer to the top in sport, in craftsmanship, in business.
Our world’s awash in images like these: they are the icons of our functional religion. We learn so early to depend on no one else’s effort. Faith, we say, is chiefly what you think about yourself.
And so we are unsettled by the unexpected gospel: “It is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast” (Eph 2:8-9).
When there is nothing we can do; when “all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death”; when we at last despair of scaling heaven by our sweat or skill or passion, grace given us in Jesus speaks for us, embraces us, and binds us to the heart of God.
Grace honors only trust, and welcomes only gratitude.
So stay in it. -Bill Knott
It’s not called “practicing” for nothing.
On some great future day, the liberating, life-affirming grace we each receive from Jesus will also be the grace we give as freely to those who wound us, irritate our peace, or call out for our love and care.
Between the “now” and “then” there’s a lot of practicing to do—a daily repetition of kind words, forgiving acts, and chosen, holy silences. Like hours we spent as children with pianos, violins, and flutes, we learn the patterns of the Jesus life—not all at once, but with increasing Spirit-skill.
On many days, we get the fingering all wrong: we point unrighteously at those who really need our grasp and our embrace. But just because the grace that saves us keeps on saving us from us, we build up skills in loving, holding, healing, helping.
Great music—gracious music—is never perfect on day one.
Keep practicing. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
If you’ve ever been forgiven; if you’ve been held when you were wrong, or bitter, or confused—you know the grace that never can repay the giver.
So we surrender to the goodness God implants in human hearts. “We know how dearly God loves us, because He has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with His love” (Rom 5:5).
We come to understand God’s grace when we are loved extravagantly, without apparent cause, and with no expectation of response. We vow with everything within that we will love as we’ve been loved—without return; without reward; just for the Lord.
This “common grace” is strikingly uncommon, but always welcome, always valued, and indelibly remembered. “Dear friends, let us continue to love one another, for love comes from God. Anyone who loves is a child of God and knows God” (1 John 4:7).
The grace that reached to you now reaches from you to the loveless, the careless, and the thoughtless.
Grace never was for you alone.
Keep giving grace.
And it will stay with you. -Bill Knott
“When I’m deep in a hole, lower a rope, not a shovel.”
The last thing we need when we’ve dug ourselves profoundly into pain or confusion or sin is more of the same. Our best efforts got us there: our best efforts won’t deliver us. The pit only gets deeper—and so does our frustration. As Scripture says, “There is a way that appears to be right, but in the end it leads to death” (Prov 14:12).
Rescue only comes from above—from Someone who both sees our plight and can do something to change it. God’s Word reveals that Jesus fully understands how desperate our condition is—and He—uniquely—can change the ending of our story: “This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for He faced all of the same testings we do, yet He did not sin. So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive His mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most” (Heb 4:15-16).
Common sense can tell us to stop digging. Wisdom urges us to accept the grace that doesn’t leave us where we are. “He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God” (Psa 40:2-3).
Let yourself be lifted.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It’s a scene played out 10 million times in the 30 days since Christmas: “You shouldn’t have . . .” “But I didn’t get you anything. . .” “I didn’t hear we were exchanging gifts . . .”
A stranger from another planet might conclude that our annual Christmas gift-giving is actually an exquisite balancing act—designed to keep each party from feeling awkward for having received an unreciprocated gift. We desperately dislike the sense that accepting kindness creates an obligation we must rapidly erase.
Thus every January we work diligently to restore the “giving equilibrium.” We send overnight parcels, repurposed fruitcakes, and texts that wonder how our long-planned gift was so “delayed” in the delivery system. We were busy; overwhelmed; “things slipped our memory.”
But grace is truly, freely, and persistently a gift—and not a trade we make with God by which He offers us salvation and we offer Him good behavior. The Bible couldn’t be clearer: “So we praise God for the glorious grace He has poured out on us who belong to His dear Son. He 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 1:6-8).
If it’s really grace, you will always feel awkward about your inability to give God something comparable. Get used to it.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
That impulse in our souls to pray—to find our knees; to stammer out the words—grows from an early, dim awareness of just how much we need the grace of God.
We pray because we cannot fix our world or ourselves. We kneel because we’re powerless to heal sick children, pay the bills, or mend unhealthy marriages. We call out as we weep for all the clash between our living and God’s giving.
And even that first impulse is itself a gift of grace: “For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered” (Rom 8:26).
To pray is to align with grace—to ask for and invite “the Love that will not let us go” to have more sway, more rule, more reach, more play. And so the simplest prayers are always best: “Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner” unblocks the flow of saving grace that restores lives and reforms nations.
What we call grace is simply letting God do what has always been His joy to do: love us, hold us; heal us; keep us. We are latecomers to His kindness. Grace precedes our first impulse to seek it.
Now stay in it. -Bill KNott
Like all the stories Jesus told, this one comes very close to home.
We justly celebrate the prodigal. He finds himself among the pigs, then soberly concludes that he should go back home. And we deplore that bitter brother whose body never left the farm, but whose hard heart had left the Father long ago.
Unlike each other as they seem, both shared a common malady. Neither prized the love that gave them birth, that nurtured them 10,000 days, that waited—on the porch and at the table—to see if love would change their lives.
Misunderstanding grace is not related to how far you roam. This story proves that you can miss it, even if you stay at home.
Of Jesus, Scripture testifies that “He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near. For through Him we both have access to the Father by one Spirit. Consequently, you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of His household” (Eph 2:17-19).
Grace offers us a family, even when our stories are miles apart. The waiting Father’s heart of love still calls each of His children home.
Heed the call to join the feast.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The diet lasts a dozen days. The treadmill hasn’t spun 10 miles. The Bible sits where it was left, unopened and unsavored. We grieve the effortless unraveling of all the goals we wanted to achieve—to lose the weight; increase the steps; find hope and quiet in God’s Word.
We are too close to dreams undone, to lofty visions gone awry.
So how does God address our lack of grit and gratitude?
“I will be faithful to you and make you Mine, and you will finally know Me as the Lord,” God says (Hosea 2:20). “He knows our frame,” the psalmist says. “He remembers we are dust” (Psa 103:14).
And so Christ came, to walk our dust, to know our pain, to understand how irresolute we are. “This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for He faced all of the same testings we do, yet He did not sin” (Her 4:15).
Grace always moves toward us, redeems our goals, and tells us we are loved. We fall in step with One who holds us when we stumble. He is resolved when we are not, and faithful when we wander.
Receive His strength. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
This painful year has made us clear on what we want for Christmas. Though Lexus and Mercedes-Benz are sure we want a gleaming ride with giant ribbons on the roof, we have no miles we want to drive. The ads all tease us with dark fantasies on Amazon or Netflix, but we still have our darkness to get through. The tech toys that we bought for sport have only one compelling use this year.
We want each other more than gifts. We want the long and lingering embrace of two-year olds who won’t let go; the bear hug from a distant friend; the real gatherings of real folk around a tree, a table, or a fire. We want the laughter never muted, carols sung by families on nights no longer silent. We want the deep security we find in holding, playing, eating with the ones we love in places we call home.
So Christ came down because He couldn’t bear the breach of space; the distance numbered in light-years; the loving words half-understood. He came to us in helplessness so we might know He needed love—our love, the warmth for which He fashioned us. He laid aside His rulership so that a two-year old could grip Him tight; a mother’s tears could turn to joy, and bitter, broken men could heal. He came to make the lepers dance; to be the face the blind first saw; to hear the deaf sing harmony.
His joy is us: we are the only gift He wants.
Accept the grip of His embrace. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Ten thousand earnest Christmas pageants offer us some cherub child, dressed as an angel, stepping forth to utter words that sound well-nigh impossible.
“Fear not,” he says, “for behold I bring you tidings of great joy.” (Luke 2:10).
“Fear not?” we think, but never say. “Does God not know our real lives?” That declaration echoing through centuries has shaped how many think of God. We think He’s chiding us for being quite normally afraid of that which ought to terrify—a brilliant light; an other-worldly stranger shouting in the night; the loudest, largest choir Earth has ever heard.
Now hear what that sweet angel really said: “You can stop being afraid now.”
For fear quite naturally results when humans meet the otherness of God and those He sends to share good news. The birth of Jesus was the broadcast we have all been waiting for: we need no longer be afraid.
Whatever views we’ve held of God; whatever fears have made us doubt His kindness or His goodness, Jesus is the living proof that there’s no reason to continue in our fear.
This Christmas, thank God for the grace that lights our midnights and will calm each anxious fear. You can stop being afraid now.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It isn’t only doubters who bemoan the passing year.
Believers also crouch against the onslaught of the news. Tragic wars that never end; the end of good and gentle folk; the dull monotony of pain that robs our midnight of its sleep.
And one more baby, born into a world where thousands never see one week.
But here we witness Heaven’s great surprise. In weakness was obscured great strength. That fragile child—He once threw galaxies around, and knows their numbers, range and size. The painful moment of His birth let loose a tide of healing that forever changed the meaning of our pain and how we get through midnights.
He laid His hands upon the broken; He overturned the fortunes of the greedy; and in His name, a thousand tyrants fled into the night. Because He lived—because He lives—our mangled world began, at last, to breathe again, to hope again.
For sake of grace, the dread of God—or many gods—became as Heaven wanted it, a friendship rich with joy and light. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).
This Christmas, let the hope once born with Jesus raise your heart and calm your fears. This Child we celebrate is still the Lord—the Master of uncounted years.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
An old regulation from the era when most people traveled by train included this puzzling requirement: “When two trains approach a crossing both shall stop, and neither shall go ahead until the other has passed by.”
The long-ago rule is, of course, a prescription for neither movement nor change. But it sounds just like the ways we all behave when we find ourselves in conflict with someone: neither of us will move until the other has moved first.
Nations face off with arsenals of bristling armaments; religious groups invoke mutual condemnations for differing beliefs; spouses live in icy tension, waiting for the other to thaw.
In His mercy, God didn’t wait for us to move first. “God showed His great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners” (Rom 5:8). Before we ever had a righteous thought or even wanted to be reconciled to God, Jesus offered Himself as the initiator, the peacemaker, the One who would move first.
Grace always moves first. God doesn’t wait for our apologies or repentance to step forward with forgiveness and embrace. The love and joy we crave is always moving toward us.
When it reaches you, receive it.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It is likely the oldest question humanity has ever asked: “What must we do to perform the works of God?”
And for millennia, honest, searching people have provided their own answers to the question. Magnificent temples and cathedrals have been built; exquisite liturgies have been composed; amazing acts of kindness have unfolded—all in the hope God would be pleased with the work, the toil, the effort, the prayers.
But when the question was put to the One whom the Bible calls the Son of God, “Jesus answered them, ‘This is the work of God, that you believe in Him whom He has sent’”(John 6:29).
He who flung the galaxies for joy, who holds this tiny blue-green planet in His warm embrace—He doesn’t need our sweat and toil. What brings Him happiness is when we choose—in love, through grace, with gratitude—to place our trust in heaven’s greatest gift: “God sent His Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through Him” (John.3.17).
Grace moves us to believe, and only then, to act. What work we do through faith in Christ grows from our gratitude.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.”
The poet’s words from long ago ring true each dawn. It may be finches perching on the feeder; it might be pigeons cooing on some ledge; it could be sparrows clustered on an edge. But somehow, with the rising light, our spirits rise as we discover that God’s world is moving, warming, singing once again. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).
Against the midnight of our fears, we hear the Lover of our souls: “Not a single sparrow can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it. . . . So don’t be afraid; you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows” (Matt 10:29, 31).
Grace sings because hope is embedded in our hearts. The God who formed us planted a great yearning for redemption deep within—a core belief that we may yet find joy and song by leaning forward to His day.
Step into light. Pick up the tune. God gave us hope: His name is Jesus.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We are not alone . . .
Depending on how you see the universe, that thought could bring you comfort—or deep terror.
If you view everything beyond your fence as threat, as something to be feared, you’ll spend your days defending only what you already have and what you’ve previously learned.
But if, through grace, you can be open to a world where love and beauty grow and blossom, you will taste joy—the joy for which God made you. “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good tidings, who publishes peace, who brings good tidings of good, who publishes salvation, who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns’” (Isa 52:7).
Grace is a declaration that we have been befriended by the One who rules the universe. The greatest Other who ever was became one of us, one with us, one on our side. “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). Jesus is the living proof that we are not alone, and never need be so again.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The mystery is that grace still finds us, hidden well beneath the cellar stairs—angry, broken, sinful, sad.
When we’ve crawled into our painful cave to lick our wounds or plot revenge, we hear the footsteps on the stair. We hear the sound of Jesus’ gentle laughter: “You can stop being afraid now. All-y, all-y—yes—in free!”
The games are finally over. When grace comes seeking you, there’s no more need to hide. What’s wounded starts to heal. Your past all gets forgiven. The lonely all get friended.
Today, get found: step out into the light. Enjoy the life you’ve always sought.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Nothing in all the world is as wonderful as a gift.
It may be the sunrise, wrapped in rose and gold, delivered to our eastern window.
It may be the stick-figure drawing by a three year-old that bears the ribbon, “I love you, Mommy.”
It may be the unexpected offer of the trip we’ve always dreamed of, to that place we sense has always been our home.
Gifts make us conscious of the love beyond ourselves—the deep, rich kindness in the heart of God.
“For there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by His grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (Rom 3:22-24).
What but our foolish pride could keep us from enjoying God’s good gift? It’s not our worthiness that matters: it is His great, untiring love that moves Him to keep giving. “God saved you by His grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done” (Eph 2:8-9).
So open up your hands, your heart. Receive the grace Christ offers.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
As four-year olds, we squabble over things we say that we deserve—first down the slide; the largest piece of chocolate cake; the undivided attention of our parents.
At fourteen, we insist that we deserve at least what others have—a new smartphone; the latest gaming platform; a curfew later than our siblings.
By 44, we vie for corner offices; subordinates who do our bidding; a happiness we assume is ours by right or through hard work.
But in our hearts, we know the truth: we don’t want what our lives deserve. The litter of bad choices swirls through our hollow claims. The memories of mistakes everyone knows—and those nobody knows—belie our claims to honor and to fame.
The apostle Paul spoke truth for all of us: “I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. I want to do what is right, but I can’t” (Rom 7:18).
And though God’s Word reveals unflattering truth about our real lives, it offers unexpectedly good news about what’s offered us. “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life through Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 6:23).
Don’t claim what you deserve. Accept the grace you’re given.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
Before we ever learn to speak or find some syllables of thought, we learn that how we’re loved depends on how we live.
As infants, we adapted to what brought us comfort and attention. As teens, we found affection best by mimicking what offered hope of friendship. And though we’ve grown in years and size, we still build contracts meant to bring us love. The world teaches us that love comes with conditions.
Just here the gospel shines so bright: “But because of His great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved” (Eph 2:4-5).
God’s care for us is not proportionate to our good thoughts or choices. He doesn’t wait for our best lives before He offers His embrace. “God sent His Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through Him” (John 3:17).
And even when we get it wrong, His love won’t be deflected. We cannot earn what He so gladly gives. We cannot lose the love we never caused.
Now stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Every day beside the Jordan, can you hear the “hallelujahs”? Can you hear the joy of angels in their vast, euphoric choir as you give your life—again—to Jesus and walk down into the water?
Can you feel the hug of heaven as you leave your past behind you—leave your sins and all your merits, held by grace and grace alone?
Can you hear the words cascading: “This one’s Mine, My lovely child, of whom I’m so greatly proud”? Do you sense the great affection of the Father who will not be turned away by sin—in your past, your now, your future?
Ah, the washing, the renewing that restores a dry disciple! Spend some moments, washed and steadied, in the sand beside the river, hearing heaven’s affirmation of your choice to follow Jesus.
Jordan’s bank is sacred space. Come here often: stay in grace. – Bill Knott
Grace is rarely just a moment; more often, a long season; and ideally, your forever reality.
We focus on the moment when a person comes to faith in Christ as though that were the starting of the story: “I was saved at 6:14 p.m., on Sunday night, May 5.” But we at length discover how our eyes were truly opened—how the Spirit had been softening our hearts, erasing our old prejudices, and nudging us toward faith—all to bring about that moment of decision. All that God did was surely grace—before we ever came to “Yes!”
And starting points are never all the journey, important as they are. By staying in His grace, we find the power of Jesus to both save us and to change us—to take away the guilt-stained past, and keep us from much future foolishness and pain.
Grace working over time is just as fully undeserved—and unexpected—favor as that sweet moment when we welcomed Christ and all He gives. “He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ” (Phil 1:6).
Grace is the word that best describes a forever friendship with Jesus.
So stay in it. -Bill Knott
We search for friends with whom to share the deepest joys we know. Our happiness is multiplied by those who join our gladness.
But friendship rests on more than witty fun or shared experience. We form a kind of covenant that pledges virtues we can’t naturally produce: “I’ll stay with you through hard times. I’ll hear you when you’re sad. I’ll walk with you in silence—when you need no extra words.”
These are the qualities of grace—a grace we only learn by witnessing the love that comes from God. Left to ourselves, our friendships would deteriorate, for pride and ego never last. “And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them” (1 John 4:16). “If we love each other, God lives in us, and His love is brought to full expression in us” (1 John 4.11).
This giving generosity of God is what we know as grace. And when we share it with our peers, we watch relationships expand, grow deep, and anchor us in storms.
The friend who brings you joy is one more evidence of grace.
So stay in it. -Bill Knott
At least once a day, we want the truth about ourselves.
Whether it’s that first, unflattering glimpse of pajamas and tousled hair, or that last, nervous glance in the office washroom before the big job interview, we rely on mirrors to give us unflinchingly honest reflections of what we really look like. A mirror that doesn’t reflect reality evokes laughter at a carnival or praises some vain fairytale character.
God has a mirror too, and He offers it so we can learn the truth about our real condition. His law—an accurate description of His character and kingdom—shows us how unlike Him we are—the fearsome truth about our vanity; our greed; our hurtful attempts to control and use each other.
“No one can ever be made right with God by doing what the law commands,” the Bible tells us. “The law simply shows us how sinful we are” (Rom 3:20).
“Oh, what a miserable person I am!” the apostle Paul exclaimed when he saw his own reflection. “Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death?” (Rom 7:24).
Gratefully, Paul answered his own desperate question. “God made Christ, who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin, so that we could be made right with God through Christ” (2 Cor 5:21).
Grace is the way God sees us when we put our trust in Jesus. He reflects His Father’s image—and His law—perfectly.
You’re looking better already.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Fear builds around us prisons only we can see. We peer out through the bars of damaged memories and foolish choices—walled in by concrete years of dark regrets. And we assume the sentence is for life.
But then one day there is a rattling at the door; keys open up a rusty lock. The cell in which we kept ourselves more rigidly than any jail is opened by a word of grace. “Your sins are forgiven you,” says the Lord who vowed to open every prison door.
The sentence is commuted, and yes, the record is expunged. “As far as the east is from the west so far does he remove our transgressions from us” (Ps 103:12).
We walk out in the light of grace—amazed at freedom we have never known, and breathing in the oxygen of hope. This is the genius of the gospel, and why this story always liberates.
Walk out of fear, but stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The Bible doesn’t say, “By grit you have been saved through effort: this is your part. It is your gift to God.” But tragically, many who say they believe in Jesus hold this old falsehood closer than they grasp the truth: “By grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God” (Eph 2:8-9).
We strain to earn what Jesus freely gives, all unaware He wants to change our attitudes even more than our behavior. Grace teaches us to trust, and “trust” is yet another word for “faith.”
What we give up when we rely on Christ is much more than our taste for fatty foods or hours wasted on the Web: we give up fantasies that sweat and intelligent self-will will ever make us worthy of eternity.
The One who cannot lie says “I have loved you with an everlasting love” (Jer 31:3). With such affection, broad and deep, we are encircled and enabled.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
A hit song many years ago plaintively asked the question on millions of minds: “Will you still love me tomorrow?”
The fragility and impermanence of human love has chorused through the centuries—in every culture, in every region. Something in the human heart cannot keep a covenant. Despite romantic wedding decorations and elaborate commitment rituals, we fail to keep our promises to always act with love and care toward even that one person we are most attracted to.
Which is why the original Lover of our souls took pains to assure us that His love and grace don’t depend on promises as weak as ours. “‘My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord. ‘And My ways are far beyond anything you could imagine’” (Isa 55:8). “For this is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
The gift of Jesus, sent in grace to take our place, is the enduring sign of God’s permanent affection—even for those who reject His love. “God showed His great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners” (Rom 5:8).
The answer to our chronic insecurity about love is the song that all who put their faith in Jesus will one day sing: “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing!” (Rev 5:12).
It’s a love that never stops. And it’s a song that never ends.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“Do you want to be healed?”
At first, it seems one of the world’s most foolish questions. What person, paralyzed for 38 years, wouldn’t leap at any chance for healing and renewal?
But Jesus asked it anyway, for grace never overwhelms our choices. Like that long-ago disabled man beside a Jerusalem pool, we each live in the confines of a private prison, often built by foolish choices. Friendships broke under the strain of angry things we said; health was compromised by anesthetics we consumed to hide our physical and emotional pain. Pride kept us distant from the love that would have healed us.
But Jesus still goes walking by the pool, quietly repeating His famous question. “‘Come now, let us reason together,’ says the Lord: ‘though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool” (Isa 1:18).
Grace never demands; never insists; never removes our power to choose. We can, if we wish, remain in our pain.
Or we can accept the healing that grace still offers and rise to “walk in newness of life” (Rom 6:4).
Rise. Walk. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Contented? Not likely.
Vast majorities describe themselves as discontented, always seeking for what’s missing. Entire industries are engineered for keeping us that way.
Algorithms cleverly exploit our fears and passions to keep us always scrolling. News outlets need us anxious about the crises that might happen. And—we’re told—we’ll be unsettled and unhappy. Inflation will eat up our paychecks; rising tides will claim our coastlands; hackers will discover passwords. So purchase many layers of things to keep yourself protected.
Yet God’s good Word is always our corrective: “Godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out” (1 Tim 6: 6-7).
Grace quiets what has always been our great anxiety—that God will turn His back, will cast us off, will give us only what we have deserved. In Jesus, heaven calmed our deepest fear: “For God sent the Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through Him” (John 3:17).
Those who most inhabit grace are always most contented. Mercy shown them soon becomes the mercy they show others. Friendships flourish; families strengthen. Anxious thoughts are quieted by God’s enduring promise.
Make peace with grace, and you will surely stay in it. -Bill Knott
Deep-seated in each wounded heart is passion to return the hurt, to even the score for how we have been wronged. Our quest for vengeance is as natural as breathing, or thinking—or sinning.
We feel the knife-blade of the cutting words; the dull ache of abandonment; the body blow of assaults upon our character. And sooner than we can imagine any other option, we poison-tip the arrows of our vengeance. It takes no effort—at all—to summon bitter words and deeds. Our tongues grow sharp; our hearts grow narrow; our bodies energize with hate.
And so the gospel of grace speaks to this most painful human reaction: “Be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another,” the Apostle Paul invites us, “just as God through Christ has forgiven you” (Eph 4:32). “Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone,” he says. “Forgive as the Lord forgave you” (Col 3:13).
Only the God who forgave us from the abundance of His grace can teach us to forgive with grace. No other ethic than His love will heal our wounds and make us leave revenge behind.
Grace is God’s healing for our wounds. We need not keep on wounding others.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Social media memes and reels solemnly declare that the hardest three words to say are the words “I love you.” Acknowledging our affection and commitment to another person—spouse, parent, child, or friend—is a moment of great vulnerability, and for some, even difficulty. And yet, the phrase is emblazoned on millions of T-shirts, shouted on billions of greeting cards, and declared in hundreds of TV shows and movies.
But if you asked, “Which three words are heard least frequently?” they would undoubtedly be, “I was wrong.” We can all imagine at least some advantages in saying “I love you.” There’s almost never an advantage in admitting our mistakes, our faults, our brokenness.
So God has wonderfully prepared the way for us to “come clean” with Him by assuring us ahead of time of His unending love and affection for us. “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness” (Jer 31:3), He says. And He teaches us that we may safely, confidently, bring to Him all our sins and foolish pride: “If we confess our sins to Him, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness” (1 John 1:9).
It will never be easy to say, “I was wrong.” But because of Jesus’ sacrifice for us, grace gives us words that heal our broken relationships—with God and with each other.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
When the last kind word has vanished from our lips;
When the last rich gift has left our bank account;
When the last abandoned child has finally found a home—we still need grace.
When the hymns we sing are clear and sweet;
When we serve with fervor in the job we’re given;
When we’ve prayed for every relative we know—we still need grace.
The good things grace inspires us to do will not reduce our need for grace. “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them” (Eph 2:8-10).
The gift of God, made freely through His Son, is never made unnecessary by how we live beyond. In Jesus’ famous parable, the ones who work from dawn, and those who start near dusk, all get the same reward.
So we confess—if we are young in faith or long upon our knees—that only Christ’s redeeming act ensures our destiny. There is no better gift than grace—to give or to receive.
So stay in it. -Bill Knott
When we’ve been wounded by the spitefulness of others, it’s grace that quiets our reactive hearts and calms our angry tongues.
We remember being forgiven, and so we can imagine offering forgiveness. The grace that reconciled us to God becomes the opening that makes new reconciliations thinkable.
The foolish cycle of retaliation need not take another turn, for Jesus has absorbed the weight of all our anger, sin and pain.
A new day dawns in which forgiveness warms and brightens all we know. Grateful for love that changed our lives, we pray that others also change, find peace, experience forgiveness.
So forgiving comes to be our way of living, and grace leads on to grace.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The great illusion at the heart of our unhappiness is the fantasy that we can solve our brokenness and foolishness. A hundred self-help manuals urge us to discover new, untapped potential; find our core of optimism, rise above the litter of past choices.
If even one of these vain remedies really worked, the bookstores would be empty, and people everywhere would be living warm, productive, joyful lives. But we continue fumbling in the bargain bin of last year’s over-hyped, self-centered strategies, while Jesus offers just one word. “Come,” He says. “Come away and rest awhile.” “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be like snow.” “A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you.” There are no better promises than these. There is no answer for our pain that heals us like God’s word of grace. Our rescue always comes from outside and above.
So stay in grace. -Bill Kknott
Sometimes it seems all humanity is obsessed with removing stains from clothing, teeth, and even furniture.
Ten thousand products invoke our shame if teeth are not their “whitest white,” if clothes are not their “brightest bright,” or guests discover “unsightly carpet stains.”
Some thoughtful souls have wondered if our fascination with removing dirt that can be seen reflects our gnawing fear that we will never be free from stains no one can see—the soiled conscience, the unwashed heart, the muddied choices of a lifetime.
Only one remedy has proved effective in cleansing what only God can see: “Come now, let us reason together,” says the Lord: “though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool” (Isa 1:18). “And since we have a great High Priest who rules over God’s house, let us go right into the presence of God with sincere hearts fully trusting Him. For our guilty consciences have been sprinkled with Christ’s blood to make us clean, and our bodies have been washed with pure water” (Heb 10:21-22).
The historic quest for inner purification, for purging the memory of foolish choices and polluted deeds, isn’t a task within our grasp. We can never “clean up our act.” Only God’s act of grace will do.
An old gospel song still says it best:
What can wash away my sin?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus;
What can make me whole again?
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
Let Jesus do what only He can do.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
If you believe your life has been rescued and redirected by a power greater than yourself, you live differently.
One of the most frequent criticisms of the Bible’s teaching about how we are saved is the charge that because grace saves us “just as we are,” we stay “just as we were.”
To some, grace looks easy, unremarkable, even cheap—a gift for those who don’t deserve it. Where is the historic space for human striving, effort, and obedience?
But grace is not a freeze-frame moment that eliminates the potential—or need—for change. As we grow in gratitude for what Jesus has done for us, we discover that our primary attitudes and behaviors are changing as well. “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being changed into His likeness from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor 3.18).
Getting what we don’t deserve really does produce a better life—one ultimately filled with “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Gal 5:22-23).
Nothing will change you more thoroughly than grace.
So stay in it. -Bill Knott
In every place; in every time; among all cultures; with every clan; in youth or age; through wealth or poverty—human beings will underline how what they do unites their lives with God.
“It is my prayers,” the homeless woman says. “God saves me because I am persistent.”
“It is my giving,” the multi-billionaire asserts. “God saves me because I build good homes for those who can’t afford them.”
“It is my art,” the passionate young sculptor says. “God saves me because my art stirs thoughtful souls to pray and give.”
And yet, there was, there is, there will be no “because.” “For 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).
Grace is the sweet announcement that we are reconciled to God out of the richness of His kindness. We pray, we give, we honor Him in art to share our thanks, not earn our way.
God loves from love: He doesn’t need persuading.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The mind in which grace lights a flame becomes, in time, a different mind. By nature and by nurture, we’re self-absorbed and focused on what brings us gain, what brings us fame. The path of least resistance leads us to our touted rights, and often—yes—our touted righteousness. We are the measure of all things: we sort and filter for what gives us points, what gives us power, what adds to our advantage. But when the grace of a supremely other-centered God breathes through the “heats of our desire,” the self-absorption starts to wane, and we begin to be the kinder, wiser souls we’ve sometimes ached to be. We hear the broken, and remember we were broken, too. We see the wounded, and we search for bandages of love. We touch the hurting with a gentleness learned from the Healer who never, ever hurries. Grace turns us from unhelpful fools into new humans, wise and warm. The grace that saves us also makes us gracious.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Could we ever live a day without the grace of God?
That first breath you took this morning—perhaps the first one when you awoke—that breath had its beginning in the gracious act of God to fill your lungs and give you life.
That first thought, in which you noted the beauty of the early sunlight bathing the yard with golden rays—that thought was the result of a marvelous biochemical chain of neurons lighting up your sleepy brain—all created by a gracious God.
And even if all the distractions were removed—if all the contentious, stressful things could magically disappear from your today—your own thoughts would make you far from perfect. Jesus said, “For from the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, all sexual immorality, theft, lying, and slander. These are what defile you” (Matthew 5:19-20).
Grace is not a temporary fix when we need restoration and forgiveness. No less of it will be required when we leave off the greatest sins.
Grace is God’s choice to hold broken, straying people like us in His arms—on our best days, and our worst. Grace is our constant need, and God’s forever gift.
So stay in it. -Bill Knott
There’s no accounting for love.
Nothing in our calculations of expected human outcomes would lead us to predict the presence—or persistence—of kindness. We’ve learned through thousands of years of history to grimly rely on the awful realities of hate, of vengeance, of unrelenting cruelty—between clans, against other races, pitting nation against nation. These are our signature achievements as a species.
But what is it that motivates a billion daily acts of caring, of forgiveness, of refusing that dreadful narrative of blood and violence? Kindness seems unnatural because it isn’t in our nature as broken, wary, self-protecting people.
The Bible couldn’t be clearer about the origin of love. “In this is love, not that we loved God but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1 John 4:10). “We love because He first loved us”(1 John 4:19).
The grace that has always filled the heart of God is daily seen wherever people practice tenderness, protect the weak, and serve the good of others. It is rich evidence that the Father of all love will not abandon us.
Receive the love from which all kindness springs.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
UNEXPECTED KINDNESS
There’s no accounting for love.
Nothing in our calculations of expected human outcomes would lead us to predict the presence—or persistence—of kindness. We’ve learned through thousands of years of history to grimly rely on the awful realities of hate, of vengeance, of unrelenting cruelty—between clans, against other races, pitting nation against nation. These are our signature achievements as a species.
But what is it that motivates a billion daily acts of caring, of forgiveness, of refusing that dreadful narrative of blood and violence? Kindness seems unnatural because it isn’t in our nature as broken, wary, self-protecting people.
The Bible couldn’t be clearer about the origin of love. “In this is love, not that we loved God but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1 John 4:10). “We love because He first loved us”(1 John 4:19).
The grace that has always filled the heart of God is daily seen wherever people practice tenderness, protect the weak, and serve the good of others. It is rich evidence that the Father of all love will not abandon us.
Receive the love from which all kindness springs. And stay in grace.
What is God like?
It sounds like the question of a six-year old—honest; direct; no nuance.
Simple as it sounds, it’s actually one of the most important questions in human history. From the dawn of recorded time, both peasants and philosophers have wrestled with the question.
Some cultures told themselves that He was angry and all-powerful. Others asserted that He was only one of many gods usually engaged in wrangling with each other. Still others claimed He is eternally inspecting our behavior, searching for any cause to deny us a forever home with Him.
Jesus answered the question for all time and for all people. “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father!” He told His followers. “The words I speak are not my own, but My Father who lives in Me does His work through Me” (John 14:9-10).
The kindness, the graciousness, the sacrificial spirit seen in Jesus are identically those of the Father. So the Bible declares, “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). Jesus was giving us the ultimate picture of God: “This is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
When you wonder if God is a friend or the ultimate enemy; when you doubt that He can forgive your brokenness and rebellion; when your heart aches to be loved and welcomed home—remember this: Jesus is the very image of the Father (Col 1:15).
And you will stay in grace. -Bill Knott
No one really wants to sing the blues. We only want to hear other people singing the blues.
It’s hard to believe that a homeless, hungry, abandoned soul would choose to write a song about it. Surviving takes all your energy. But listening to someone else lamenting their pretended sorrows somehow makes us feel better about our not-so-bad lives.
And yet of Jesus—our Redeemer—the Bible sings, “He was despised and rejected—a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief” (Isa 53:3).
His suffering was no accident, no cruel twist of cosmic fate. “He was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins. He was beaten so we could be whole. He was whipped so we could be healed” (Isa 53:5).
Grace was Christ’s choice to live our blues so that our destinies would be forever changed. Jesus says, “I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly” (John 10:10).
A new and hopeful song is yours. Grace still amazes.
So stay in it. -Bill Knott
We love our sugary success stories—the sweet and gripping fantasies we hope might someday happen to us.
“Mailroom clerk becomes company CEO.” “Out-of-luck waitress wins huge lottery.” “Overlooked teen becomes Hollywood megastar.” We quietly insert our names to secretly imagine the powerful, wealthy, famous life we wish was ours. We live vicariously their stories of success.
But when a loving God reached down to change our fates, He didn’t promise the penthouse office, a large portfolio, or millions of adoring fans. “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong” (1 Cor 1:27).
The Lord of whom the Bible says, “He existed before anything else, and He holds all creation together” (Col 1:17), entered our story as the weakest of the weak—without status; without wealth; without popularity. And His success—stunning, cosmic, eternal—caused Him to die vicariously for us, in place of us, to heal our brokenness and pride.
“Since we believe that Christ died for all, we also believe that we have all died to our old life. He died for everyone so that those who receive His new life will no longer live for themselves. Instead, they will live for Christ, who died and was raised for them” (2 Cor 5:14-15).
Grace revels in a victory we didn’t win, and celebrates a future only God could give us. And it’s no fantasy.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
An old gospel hymn plaintively asks the question in the last line of each verse: “Where could I go but to the Lord?”
The hymnwriter noted the deep challenges of everyday life in a broken world. He deplored the lack of things he needed to make life even minimally comfortable. He wrestled with the ever-present temptation to give up on God’s call to a new life in Christ. At the end of the day—and at the end of the song—the answer to his rhetorical question was and always is—"Nowhere else.”
His line reminds us of the words of one of Jesus’ closest followers. At a moment when many “sunshine disciples” were turning away from Him, Jesus asked His disciples, “Will you also go away?” Peter spoke for the small number who remained: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68).
No combination of material things, cherished friends, or promises of personal achievement and business success can ever approach the value of the promise Jesus makes to all who put their trust in Him: “I have loved you with an everlasting love. That is why I have continued to be faithful to you” (Jer 31:3). “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God” (Eph 2:8).
Grace is the refuge to which the wise always run. Be wise, and find the forever safety your heart craves.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“That’s old news.”
In an information-obsessed world, that may be the ultimate put-down. Round-the clock—and endlessly repetitive—reporting crackles from hundreds of cable television channels. All-news radio stations compete for our ears when screens can’t have our eyes. Newspapers, which for two centuries held the world in thrall, now struggle with declining circulations because so much has changed in the eight hours between final edits and home delivery. The news they carry might now be “old.”
Before we greet the day, or our spouses—or the Lord—we scan our screens on smartphones and tablets, starving for the latest news of disasters near and far, scandals among the famous, and a world bristling with violence.
But the ultimate value of information is something other than urgency. Is it true? Is it relevant? And most importantly: Is it good—and good for us?
The Bible reminds us that the best news is often the oldest—the enduring truth that never ages: “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them” (2 Cor 5:19). “God proves His love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8).
That news has been around for centuries—two millennia, in fact. And nothing has diminished its truth, its relevance, and its essential goodness.
Grace is always timely—and enduring.
So stay in it. -Bill KNott
A mother’s deep affection for her newborn child is completely understandable. The nine months they’ve spent journeying together—and a surge of maternal hormones—create an instant, fierce attraction to that red and wrinkled infant gazing solemnly into her eyes.
A young couple’s giddy delight in each other at the wedding altar is completely understandable. Months of shared memories and reverent promises have propelled them to this moment—along with a surge of powerful biochemicals. Nothing could be more natural.
A young soldier’s deep loyalty to the men who have battled alongside him, guarded his back, and rescued him in deepest danger is completely understandable. We were designed to show love back to those who first loved us.
But what explains God’s deep and fervent affection for millions of human beings who have never warmed to His attention, trusted in His promises, or appreciated His vigilant protection? There’s nothing natural—or understandable—about it. God chooses of His own marvelous free will to love those who ignore Him, seek those who consistently disobey His rules, and embrace those who crucified His Son. “In this is love, not that we loved God but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1 John 4:20).
“This is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
Receiving the gift of God’s persistent grace doesn’t mean that we can ever fully explain it or understand it. But go ahead: embrace the mystery.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
What kind of person gets angry when a wretched, broken sinner is restored by the grace of God? Are there really people that selfish?
The answer, according to Jesus, is sadly “Yes”—and they sometimes congregate in churches. In Jesus’ famous story, an arrogant younger brother forces his father to liquidate the family holdings to fund his portion of the estate, yet finally comes to his senses while wrestling pigs for food in a far-off land. Broken by his foolish choices, he makes his best decision ever—to return to the always-open arms of the father. Grace stirs his heart; grace moves his feet; grace gives him words; grace draws him to his father’s arms.
But lurking on the margins is a man turned hideous by his angry rejection of the same grace that brought his younger brother home. Nothing can be given. Everything must be earned. The early bird is the righteous bird. Only the righteous bird deserves the worm. “All these years I’ve slaved for you and never once refused to do a single thing you told me to” (Luke 15:29) he snarls at his father. He cannot join the party, for only grace knows how to truly celebrate.
When prodigals come home; when broken lives get mended; when those most undeserving wear the Father’s ring and eat the Father’s food, graceless people show their true colors.
Don’t be surprised. And don’t let them ever keep you from coming fully home.
Stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It’s usually said with a cynical smile and an eye roll: “My good deed did not go unpunished.”
And it nicely sums up the exasperation we feel when life doesn’t seem fair, when hard work isn’t rewarded, when doing the right thing brings only more trouble and heartache.
But what if the more accurate summary of our lives was actually the inverse: “My bad deeds did not get punished.”
According to the Bible, our faith in Jesus means that we’ll never get what we deserve—and we will be deliriously happy with that outcome! “But as people sinned more and more, God’s wonderful grace became more abundant. So just as sin ruled over all people and brought them to death, now God’s wonderful grace rules instead, giving us right standing with God and resulting in eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Rom 5:20-21).
Grace offers us believably good news: “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned everyone to his own way; and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all” (Isaiah 53:5-6).
Let cynics retire. Let the saved rejoice.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
These hours between midnight and dawn test the patience of the world. We stumble through the hallways of dark houses. We seek companionship in all-night TV channels and books that used to put us to sleep. We hide from pain or grief that won’t let us close our eyes.
Why must dawn wait? Why must the hope of day stretch out so far away? If we could, we’d reach out and pull the first gray light of morning toward us–wrap ourselves in a little bit of hope and cheer. But dawn isn’t within our grasp.
Only one man in all history could bring the morning. Just one man could rightfully claim, “I am the light of the world.” Only Jesus could split the prison where we were chained in shame with the marvelous good news of grace and pardon and power and peace. Only He could triumph over death and hell, because only He had experienced—and broken—their power.
This hurting world of ours desperately needs the story of His resurrection. This dark planet, racked by war and ravaged by disease, cries out for the good news of that amazing sunrise.
Morning has broken, and goodness has won.
Celebrate the new life you’ve been given.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Fast-forward, if you can, to scenes our hearts are aching to be in. Redeemed at last from all the brokenness, the pettiness, the pain of earthly life, we stand before the throne with those from every nation, tribe, and people, breathing in the air of heaven and singing at the top of our lungs, “Salvation belongs to our God” (Rev 7:10).
Does even one hand go up to get the Lord’s attention? — “I need to be sure my good deeds are recorded, that my sacrifice is written down somewhere.”
“Preposterous,” you say—and right you are. It’s simply unimaginable that anyone who’s covered by the blood of Jesus would take some credit for a rescue owing just to Him. So why is it we now persist in counting up our virtues? Isn’t it evidence enough that we too often fail to grasp the overwhelming, undergirding goodness of our God?
Grace is better than we first believed, more sweeping than we now believe, more joyous than we’ll ever believe. Put down your hand. Lift up your voice. The grace will always be amazing.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It’s a pandemic for the ages.
Even though we’re more “connected” than ever, a tidal wave of loneliness has washed around the world.
Eight billion cell phones aren’t enough if people talk to fewer friends, never share a walk or meal, or leave important things unsaid. Our bodies and our minds insist that we be with someone.
And so the first name given Jesus in the Gospels is “Immanuel”—“God with us”—the One who shares the walk, who shares the meal; the One who promises to never leave us alone.
Companionship is just the thing our haggard hearts are craving. When knowledge fails to satisfy; when income fails to multiply; when only fears solidify, we want a friend—a graceful friend—who will be always on our side. “Love never ends” (1 Cor 13:8).
Grace is the offer of a Friend who pledges, “I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you” (Joshua 1:5).
Share the journey. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We are wary for good reasons. We’ve had too much of hurt, of wounds, of promises that didn’t deliver. Nothing “too good to be true” should ever be believed.
But grace presents us with impossibly good things—all backed up by the God who cannot lie and never exaggerates. “As far as the east is from the west, so far He removes our transgressions from us” (Ps 103:12). “A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you” (Eze 36:26).
Was there ever better news? Can the God we’ve so much offended be the same who offers us a rich, forgiven, guilt-free life when we believe in Jesus? “In Him every one of God’s promises is a ‘Yes’” (2 Cor 2:20).
Grace is the gift we’ll never earn from Him whose love we’ll never lose. What once we thought impossible is true and free and good—and ours.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It takes a lot to surprise the authors of the Bible.
In the pages of Scripture, we find unflinchingly honest stories about every kind of failing—adultery, murder, cruelty, abuse. Nothing human is foreign to them. But they were startled—even shocked—at the undeserved and unexpected mercy of God for broken people like us.
Listen to Paul: “Now, most people would not be willing to die for an upright person, though someone might perhaps be willing to die for a person who is especially good. But God showed His great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners” (Rom 5:7-8).
The apostle John echoes the astonishment: “See how very much our Father loves us, for He calls us His children, and that is what we are!” (1 John 3:1).
The grace of God is always more—more powerful than our darkest failings; more thorough than our best attempts to put ourselves in order; more persistent than our deepest loyalties. “Love never gives up” (1 Cor 13:7).
Receive the gift that never ceases to amaze.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
When warm light floods the living room and laughter visits along with friends, we bless the grace of God for making all our good days better.
But when the rain slants heavily across our midnight loneliness, is grace still real? Is God still good?
The greatest saints this world has known are full unanimous on this: God’s grace is undiminished by the dark, the cold, the prison cell, the illness and the tears.
For just such hours and just such years the witness of God’s Word is clear: “He reached down from heaven and rescued me; He drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemies, from those who hated me and were too strong for me” (Psa 18:16-17). “The Lord’s arm is not too weak to save you, nor is His ear too deaf to hear you call” (Isa 59:1).
Yes, grace is justly celebrated when harmonies rise heavenward, and massive choirs proclaim the beauty of redemption. But grace is even better known when tearful, solo saints exclaim: “From the depths of despair, O Lord, I call for Your help. Hear my cry, O Lord. Pay attention to my prayer” (Psa 130:1-2).
Call out for grace in any hour. God hears your voice: it doesn’t take a choir.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
A century ago, the poet wept: “Things fall apart. The centre cannot hold.” And after greater blood and anarchy, who dares to argue with him? Pollyannas need not apply.
And yet, sweet children are still softly kissed before they dream each night. Young lovers stroll and plan for lives that still unfold. The vendor at the corner store still offers us a smile with every morning’s purchase.
What keeps our world above the “blood-dimmed tide” that threatens to engulf us?
According to the Word of God, it is His grace that still preserves our loves and tenderness. Even the world-ending cataclysm the Bible teaches us about is not rushed—while mercy does its work: “The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish but all to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:9).
Your good job; your fresh love; your next breath—all are made possible by love that will not let us go. Between the haste and pain; among the litter of our sins; through all the litany of obstinance and ignorance—the grace of God preserves, sustains, and offers hope.
There is no depth grace cannot reach; no foolishness it can’t undo. Grace is another word for hope.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Name any virtue dear to you, and there’s one grace behind it.
Even the Bible’s best-known virtues— “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Gal 5:22-23)—grow from one even more remarkable quality: humility.
Love means putting others before ourselves; joy is joining in another’s glee. Peace emerges when we quiet the clamoring of ego; kindness acts to bless another. Faithfulness means being loyal to someone other than ourselves. Gentleness and self-control are how we act when we respect the dignity of others.
This undergirding grace of humility is best seen in Jesus Himself, who acted toward us as only true virtue could: “Though He was God, He did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, He gave up His divine privileges; He took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When He appeared in human form, He humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross” (Phil 2:6-7).
Only magnificent humility would offer saving grace to undeserving folks like us. As we learn Christ’s humility, we grow in grace—and virtues. “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being changed into His likeness from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor 3:18).
Learn whose you are.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
When we were children, practicing was frequently the bane of our existence.
Endless loops of cursive handwriting; sticky valves on rented clarinets; stubborn keyboard ivories that mocked our stubby fingers. Practicing brought little joy as we outlasted clocks.
But then, perhaps, we found some sweet proficiency—some pleasing skill still short of smooth perfection. We scored the winning soccer goal; our fingers or our voices shared a recognizable tune.
And so it is as we learn grace. Against the backward pressure of our fears, we sing to others and ourselves of mercy when we least deserve it; of God’s rich kindness finally overwhelming all our callousness. We now rehearse the stories of what Jesus did; what He is doing; what He will do. “For since our friendship with God was restored by the death of His Son while we were still His enemies, we will certainly be saved through the life of His Son” (Rom 5:10).
Practicing the gospel is all about repeating what is really true against the echo of our past. The Father still calls prodigals back home; embraces all who stumble on the way; forgives the ones who never seem to get the tune just right. Day by day, we grow in grace as we remind ourselves of Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
Keep practicing until you’re sure He got it right.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
When all our boasts are at an end; when no one’s left we might impress; when all our tales of make believe have not made anyone believe—we stare into the mirror that reveals our brokenness and pain.
Hard as it is, this is the moment richer life begins. Reduced by circumstance and time to being honest with ourselves, we reach for help we cannot give ourselves. “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have all turned to our own way, and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all” (Isa 53:6).
We fear such honesty will leave us lonely, loveless, miserable. But God sees in our honesty the genesis of life renewed. “‘Come now, let us settle the matter,’ says the Lord. ‘Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool’” (Isa 1:18).
“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). The honesty that seemed to seal our doom is actually the doorway to restored and joyful life.
Grace changes our reality, not only our self-image. Made right with God through Jesus Christ, we grow into the kinder, wiser, honest souls whom we were always meant to be.
The mirror doesn’t lie. And neither does the Lord.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
I sing the solo grace “that saved a wretch like me,”—and so I should. Without it, I would be forever lost and never found.
But grace is more than what God does for me, though there may never be a hymn to fully capture that.
Grace is the Spirit moving in a hundred hearts when reconciliation is proclaimed from pulpits or on hillsides. “For there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by His grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (Rom 3:22-24).
Grace is the grip of someone I’ve offended who offers a forgiving hug, even when I haven’t gotten to “I’m sorry.” Grace is the circle of believers, certain of their brokenness, who willingly embrace the addict, the obnoxious, the pariah.
Just like the Child who was born to us, grace is God’s truth for all of us—on us; for us; with us; through us. “To all who received Him, who believed in His name, He gave power to become children of God” (John 1:12).
We teach each other of this shareable redemption by not insisting on our rights; by silencing our cutting words; by holding those who seem intent on pushing us away. We live this grace together in a fellowship encouraging forgiveness.
Pray for the eyes to see this wider grace, to sing this fuller song.
And you will stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The finest things that we can say are sometimes framed as negatives. Here’s one: “Love never gives up, never loses faith” (1 Cor 13:8).
That’s why we celebrate what the Bible so often calls God’s “steadfast love”—His unchanging, unyielding, untiring affection for every human being.
He doesn’t warm to us when we are nice on sunny Tuesdays—or grow remote and cold when we stay home from church. He doesn’t offer, like some parents, affection earned by good behavior. He doesn’t icily withdraw into the vastness of His universe when we play gossip, doubter, thief, or prodigal.
He pledges His good will toward us with an unshakeable tenacity we can’t begin to grasp, never mind reciprocate. In Him, “there is never the slightest variation or shadow of inconsistency” (James 1:17).
“As far as the east is from the west, so far does He remove our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12).
Grace is the face God turns toward us when in our shame we cannot bear to look at Him. And still He urges, “Look to Me and be saved, all the ends of the earth” (Isa 45.22).
Look now, and be amazed. You’ll never be the same.
Then stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Make covenants, not resolutions, as you walk into the year, for covenants give us company in keeping what we pledge. A resolution with no witness is too often just a wish, a good intention with nothing but our declining willpower to make the vital difference.
The covenants we really need are bigger than our diets and more urgent than our visits to the gym. We need companions to whom we’ll make the most important promises of all: to tell each other just the truth; to remind each other of how good the gospel is; to continue walking side by side through any guilt or fear the new year brings.
Agree with someone in your life—a spouse, a friend, another sinner saved by grace—with whom you’ll travel in days ahead—by phone, by app, by real steps on real roads. Pledge perseverance, not perfection, for walking with another sinner will reveal how much you both need constant grace.
And when you stumble, as you will, a hand will lift you up, and brush you off, and help you keep on walking.
As this year starts, invite some other to what Jesus now invites you: “Come walk with me: keep covenant.”
That’s how you’ll stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Each year, as New Year’s Day arrives, believers wrestle quietly with one of the Apostle Paul’s most puzzling assertions: “One thing I do, forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal” (Phil 3:13-14).
How—exactly—is it possible to “forget what lies behind”?
The year just lived was full of slights and insults: they fester unforgettably each time that face or name appears.
The year just past brought wounds—both planned and unintentional. Can willing it remove the evidence of scars?
The year gone by saw failures—ours and others—whose effects cannot be trimmed by noting January 1. Will the famed power of positive thinking erase the pain of choices we or others made?
We only can forget what we’ve forgiven—done by us, or done by others. And we only can forgive when we’re forgiven—by a power outside ourselves who cannot lie. God “never changes or casts a shifting shadow” (James 1:17).
“God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them” (2 Cor 5:19).
What God forgets, we safely can forget. When God forgives, we find His grace to add our own, releasing others and ourselves from all of last year’s failures.
Grace doesn’t simply turn the page. It sees, acknowledges, forgives—and gradually forgets. The year ahead will help us practice our forgetting.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It’s the most frequently portrayed scene in all of human history.
Four-year olds sketch out the wise men, sheep, and cattle. Sculptors craft three human figures beneath a simple roof, and we fill in the rest. Churches erect elaborate crèches, some with anxious animals, some with freezing actors. Billions of gilded Christmas cards imagine this one moment in its gentle innocence.
Why does the story of a humble birth 2000 years ago transfix a weary world? Because it is supremely a story of hope, of resistance, of pushing back against the dreadful narrative of death and power and pain. “In Him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it” (John 1:4-5).
Jesus entered this life we live by the low road, though He owns all roads that ever were. He was worshipped—yes, adored—by midnight shepherds stained with mud—men ignored by all the proud and powerful, though He is rightfully worshipped by archangels, universal praise, and choirs. “God chose things despised by the world, things counted as nothing at all, and used them to bring to nothing what the world considers important” (1Cor 1:28).
Jesus always gives Himself to those brought low by circumstance or grief—the poor, the poorly treated, the poor in spirit—the folks who cannot turn the world their way. Beginning from the bottom, He lifts all of us toward heaven.
Embrace this Child. Your hope and joy will also rise.
And you will stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Our fascination with the stars is as old as . . . one gorgeous night in Eden. As darkness first descended on God’s rich, untrammeled world, there was no fear, no threat, no shying from the shadows. A dazzling panoply of stars entranced the first two humans ever subject to their brilliance, mystery, and power.
We name the stars to tame them—just to counterfeit some ownership over what we never can control. We search for patterns, figures, shapes. We stare as fragments of their shining streak across our sky.
But only once in all the history of the world did those the world counts wise pick up, strike tents, and follow what they couldn’t grasp or own. “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw His star as it rose, and we have come to worship Him” (Matt 2:2).
What grace is this that leads us on to Jesus? How much like God to hang a symbol in the night that brings us to His Son! “‘I will be found by you,’ says the Lord. ‘I will end your captivity and restore your fortunes’” (Jer 29:14).
Grace calls us first to see, and then to wonder, then to follow with our lives.
Journey to the Child this Christmas, and discover once again how hope is rising in your night.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It’s a tough time to be selling “Peace on Earth.”
In the Christmas Shoppe at the megastore, elves and reindeer move briskly out the door. Nativity scenes in warm pastels are inner-lit with bulbs and cheer. Miles and miles of twinkling lights unwind from endless shelves.
But who is buying “Peace on Earth?”
At first, it seems a quaint anachronism, harking back to simpler times and well-tuned carolers. But now, we fear our neighbors will think us terribly insensitive to be flaunting anything of peace when kids are dying in Kfar Aza, in Gaza, in Kharkiv.
How can the gospel still proclaim a peace on earth that is so rarely lived or loved?
The night sky circling Bethlehem 2000 years ago did not proclaim the end of wars or banish human savagery. What angels sang—and shepherds hoped, and wise men followed, and a weary couple trusted—was that heaven is fully on our side.
There was no war—there is no war—between the heart of God and those He calls His sons and daughters. “For this is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). The birth of our Messiah sang to fearful, doubting folks like us what always has been true: “God was in Christ personally reconciling the world to Himself—not counting their sins against them” (2 Cor 5:19).
Grace is the anthem of God’s attitude toward us. Peace is His gift for all who choose the Child who was born to us.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It’s a story filled with angels, and so a story filled with grace.
An angel reveals to an aged priest that his wife will bear a son named John. The angel Gabriel announces to a virgin that she will be the mother of the promised Messiah, whose very name announces our salvation. Her fiancé—like Joseph of old, a man of dreams—is counseled by an angel to welcome the gracious plan devised by heaven to save the world.
Another angel declares to startled shepherds that the Messiah has been born in Bethlehem, and the night sky shines like noon as thousands of angels celebrate the grace gifted to us.
As the story of Jesus’ birth so richly shows, grace is always reaching out to weary, broken people like us. Carpenters and homemakers, shepherds and preachers—to each of us comes the good news that “the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen His glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).
Every time we fear that we are desperately alone, heaven reminds us, as the poet says, that “There are angels in these fields.”
Grace is always singing somewhere—in our homes, our churches, and the places where we work. Good news rides on wings of light.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“If you would tell me, tell me true,” a wise old man once said. “There isn’t time enough for lies.”
And when we’ve polished all our trophies, and sung again our victory songs, we come at last to stories too painful to be false. Each honest story unwraps our wounds, our hurts—as well as those we’ve given.
We grieve the loved ones whom we’ve lost—a spouse; a friend; a much-loved child—though some of them still live and breathe. We mourn the loss of innocence; we’ve soaked up toxic sums of greed. We laugh at violence and war; we cheer for “heroes” who display our poorest human qualities. We feel the sadness for what’s never fixed or mended or repaired.
And so it’s not an accident that we know more of Jesus as a healer than any other role. He stepped into the broken story of our world with grace that made the lepers dance and unlocked tongues that never spoke. He gave the parents back lost children; He cast out evil spirits and refashioned sin-sick attitudes. He told us of a Father who kindly waits for us to finish playing prodigal.
And when He died to heal us of our greatest hurt, He took our pain and made it His. “He was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the punishment that made us whole, and by His bruises we are healed” (Isa 53:5-6).
The good news is that grace still heals. It closes wounds; it soothes our scars. And someday soon, it leads us home.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We are wary for good reasons. We’ve had too much of hurt, of wounds, of promises that didn’t deliver. Nothing “too good to be true” should ever be believed.
But grace presents us with impossibly good things—all backed up by the God who cannot lie and never exaggerates. “As far as the east is from the west, so far He removes our transgressions from us” (Ps 103:12). “A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you” (Eze 36:26).
Was there ever better news? Can the God we’ve so much offended be the same who offers us a rich, forgiven, guilt-free life when we believe in Jesus? “In Him every one of God’s promises is a ‘Yes’” (2 Cor 2:20).
Grace is the gift we’ll never earn from Him whose love we’ll never lose. What once we thought impossible is true and free and good—and ours.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Where does kindness come from?
Nothing in the narrative of evolutionary biology can tell us why one human would act with compassion or thoughtfulness toward another. In a world where survival alone is supposed to be the highest goal, nothing disinterested happens. All human behaviors should only produce results for the one doing them.
Yet kindness exists. Parents nurture children, and not only to perpetuate their genetic line. Friends do “unnecessary” things for each other—providing emotional support in grief or loss or change. Even sworn enemies surprise us by laying down their weapons to offer comfort to the wounded.
The Bible tells us that all good things, including acts of kindness, grow from the kindness that began with God: “Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change” (James 1:17).
God’s enduring kindness toward each of us—for every human being is created in His image—flows from His heart of grace. “No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 8:39).
The grace of God moves every act of mercy and forgiveness. Receive that love. Then move the kindness forward.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
How do you find a quiet heart?
You won’t find it in a deep evergreen forest, though walking in the fragrant woods may give you time to think.
You won’t find it beside a thundering waterfall, though the welcome sound may block the din of autos, trains, and planes.
You won’t even find that quiet heart in the sanctuary of a silent church, though everything around you points you to God’s presence.
Changing our location doesn’t bring the peace we crave. A quiet heart is the gift we receive through the grace of a loving God. “Since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us” (Rom 5:1).
“I have loved you with an everlasting love,” the Father says. “I have drawn you with unfailing kindness” (Jer 31:3). “This is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
Receive the peace you were made for. Believe in the God who has always believed in you.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
I bless them all—the friends who didn’t back away when I said clumsy, foolish things, or added insult to an injury. I bless the ones who held me in the grip of grace before I had an inkling they were doing anything at all.
I call to mind the line of kind, consistent people who forgave before I knew how much I had offended, who didn’t hold my sins against me, or wait to even up the score. I thank the Lord who taught them grace so that when my life was stirred by grace, I had a living, breathing demonstration standing right beside me.
Grace has a face—or faces, actually—one, two or ten who make the gospel come to life by holding, healing, loving, serving. They are my church, my backstop, my community.
Because of them, I dare to do some gracious act that covers sin or heals pain. They’ve made a choice, and so have I.
We stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“I don’t deserve this.”
It’s a sentiment uttered—muttered—millions of times a day around the world. Our deep, unyielding sense of justice is aroused each time we aren’t treated fairly by a spouse or colleague, when we get unexpected charges from the tax office, when we think that God or fate has given us more than we can bear. Deep in our souls, we desperately want life to be fair.
But it’s also a line heard millions of times each day by men and women marveling at the offer of the gospel. And whether we’re correct or not to sometimes protest our bad treatment or unlucky turns, we’re always accurate to say in the presence of God’s amazing grace, “I don’t deserve this.”
“God is so rich in mercy, and He loved us so much, that even though we were dead because of our sins, He gave us life when He raised Christ from the dead. (It is only by God’s grace that you have been saved!)” (Ephesians 2:4-5).
Grace never ceases to amaze—just because it flows from a God of justice who ordained that Jesus would bear the penalty for our sins and die for us. That gift offers us a future we never could have earned—living with Him forever.
Say the line you know is true, with all the hope it holds for you: “I don’t deserve this.”
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
More than 50 years ago, a wildly popular book and movie gave us a proverb worth forgetting: “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”
Despite its commercial success, the line ignores the undeniable reality that broken human beings are always needing to repair the relationships they care most about—and usually with the words, “I’m sorry.” For love to bloom, it must be watered by apology and forgiveness.
And so it is with God. By our foolish, selfish actions, we’ve failed His rightful expectations as our Creator. We’ve hurt His heart of love each time we’ve wounded others with our malice or indifference.
But the good news is still good: “If we confess our sins to Him, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness” (1 John 1:9).
Our broken relationship with God can be healed by a simple phrase: “I’m sorry, and I need You.”
God’s rich embrace is all of grace. Restoration is one short prayer away. And this love story never ends.
So say—and stay—in grace. -Bill Knott
So, what’s the most valuable commodity in the world?
If you picked silver, gold, or platinum, 10,000 brokers might seek your business.
If you chose palladium or rhodium, you know your precious metals well.
But none of these—nor all of them—can light a dream or spark a prayer when fear and pain fill all our night. There’s just one thing that billions want, including all who never own—or see—a precious metal.
That thing is hope, and it is found, not in the ground, but in the skies.
Hope is the trust that there is yet another truth about our lives—that we are loved and valued and worth holding. Hope rises high above our brokenness to affirm that God is not finished with us yet.
Whatever we own, whatever we cherish, we are precious to the God who gave us hope by giving us what is most precious to Him: “For this is the way God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
Hope is our trust that God is good, that grace is ultimately what counts. All other value flows from trusting that our story need not end in dust.
Grace always points us to the skies.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
When we tell our peers the stories of our lives, how do we shape the narratives?
Do we tell tales of high achievement, dogged persistence, and clever strategy? Are we the heroes of our stories? Or do we speak of the persistent, generous grace of God that launched us with rich opportunities, forgave us when we repeatedly failed, and healed us—time and again—when we felt broken and discouraged?
God’s Word describes the inevitable trajectory of the hero-driven, self-directed life: “Sometimes there is a way that seems to be right, but in the end it is the way to death” (Prov 16:25). Jesus offers Himself as the living symbol of the grace that gives our stories deep meaning and lasting value: “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (John 10:10).
Grace tells a hero story, but it’s not about us. “You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. . . . God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:6,8).
There’s only one hero in my tale, and it’s not me. Perhaps you know this story, too. “O Lord, give me the words. Then my mouth will praise You” (Psa 51: 15).
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
If there’s one thing that heaven hates, why surely, it must be—adultery? Pride? Hypocrisy? Murder? Greed?
Would you believe “unforgiveness”?
Consistent with the grace He both lived and taught, Jesus saved His hardest words for those who refused to forgive the brokenness of others. He wept for those swept off their feet by lust or overcome by avarice, and even those who hurt or injure others. But He offered little hope for those who wouldn’t show the mercy shown to them.
In a famous story, Jesus made His values clear: “Then the king called in the man he had forgiven and said, ‘You evil servant! I forgave you that tremendous debt because you pleaded with me. Shouldn’t you have mercy on your fellow servant, just as I had mercy on you?” (Matt 18:32-33).
We only forgive others as much as we imagine we need forgiveness. “If we claim we have no sin, we are only fooling ourselves and not living in the truth. But if we confess our sins to Him, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness” (1John 1:8-9).
So be fully honest with yourself—and fully merciful with others.
In doing this, you stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“Lucky you!” we mumble when our rival’s putt drops in the cup from 50 feet away.
“Wish I was you,” we grumble when our colleague lands the big promotion and the corner office with a view.
“It must be nice,” we mutter when the car we can’t afford is parked across the street each night.
But who is actually more fortunate—the one who wins a round of golf or office ladder-climbing—or the person who receives God’s offered gift of happiness forever? Add up the scorecard—tally all the perks—and there’s nothing that comes close in value to the new life we are given as believers.
“Since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us. Because of our faith, Christ has brought us to this place of undeserved privilege where we now stand” (Rom 5:1-2).
It’s love, not luck, that makes us rich in grace. “To all who believed Him and accepted Him, He gave the right to become children of God” (John 1:12).
Receive the gift that’s offered you.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Any faith worth putting at the center of your life must do at least three things.
- It must accurately describe the dark reality of our brokenness and pain.
- It must fully tell how we are rescued from our anger, pride and violence.
- It must show us a future we would want to live in.
And so the gospel of Jesus Christ declares, “Once you were dead because of your disobedience and your many sins.”
That’s why the Father acted to rescue us from the rebellion we had chosen: “God is so rich in mercy, and He loved us so much, that even though we were dead because of our sins, He gave us life when He raised Christ from the dead.”
And finally, the Father offers us a future better than we ever imagined—or deserved: “For He raised us from the dead along with Christ and seated us with Him in the heavenly realms” (Eph 2:1; 2:4-5; 2:6).
Jesus says, “I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am” (John 14:3).
Grace is God’s kindness fitted to the story of our lives. And this story never ends.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Until we grasp how much we’ve been forgiven, it will always seem unwise and difficult to forgive those who sin against us.
When we forgive another person, we abandon our leverage over them; release the debt they owe us; throw open prison doors. This is a graciousness we can’t summon from within: until we’ve received God’s grace, we have none to give to others. You can’t wring kindness from a stone, or from a stony, unforgiven heart.
But “the grace of God has appeared to all” (Titus 2:11), making possible our own redemption, and then the healing of our friendships, marriages, and communities.
Grace truly received always becomes grace given.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Imagine—only for a moment—your life without the grace of God. Every foolish act of adolescence; every spiteful, angry word you’ve said; every broken relationship would trail after you like dragging cannonballs uphill.
There could be no forgiveness, but only possibly forgetfulness. All things wounded would never heal. The sun would never rise on faith or hope or possibilities.
But we rejoice that grace has come to us in Jesus—that our stories are forever changed for better. So grace always opens into gratitude. We celebrate a rescue we could never accomplish because of what Christ accomplished for us.
And He ever lives—it is His joy—to intercede for us, to turn our painful histories into stories that will bless and lift the world.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
A husband slipping in the door with a bouquet of red roses trailing behind him.
A six year-old artfully arranging the remaining cookies in the jar to make it seem none have been taken.
A believer creeping quietly to church to sit in the back row and promise years of future faithfulness.
In our core, we hope to somehow appease those we have offended. We bring gifts; we rearrange the facts to diminish our responsibility; we promise to be better in the future. We assume that we won’t be welcome as we are.
But when we meet the God whose rightful expectations we have most offended, He is nothing like the angry deity we expected. “For this is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life. God sent His Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through Him” (John 3:16-17).
This is the mystery of grace—that God doesn’t act on impulse or through vengeance, but plans to actively restore those whom sin and pride have separated from Him. “God, in His grace, freely makes us right in His sight. He did this through Christ Jesus when He freed us from the penalty for our sins” (Rom 3:24).
We are amazed: we do not understand. It’s not what we would have done to those who offended us. But then, God says of Himself: “For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so My ways are higher than your ways and My thoughts higher than your thoughts” (Isa 55:9).
Grace restores what we can’t fix, and renews our lifeline to the God who deeply loves us.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Taking the stairs instead of the elevator. Giving money to a homeless man at the corner. Choosing fruit instead of ice cream for dessert.
All good things—but none will change your standing with God.
Rising at 4:00 a.m. to pray and meditate. Attending weekly worship services. Contributing 10 percent of your income to the work of ministry.
All good things—but none will change your standing with God.
“For 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” (Rom 2:8).
The good things grace inspires us to do are not the things that save us. Our forever destiny is assured only by trusting in what Jesus has done for us by laying down His life to pay the penalty for our sins. “But God proves His love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us. Much more surely then, now that we have been justified by His blood, will we be saved through Him from the wrath of God” (Rom 5:8-9).
So what good thing may we do to ensure our happiness both now and forever? “Jesus answered them, ‘This is the work of God, that you believe in Him whom He has sent’” (John 6:29).
Grace calls us to receive the gift we cannot earn. Our acts of love are simply tokens of our praise.
So stay in grace -Bill knott
Hot words, cold words.
Red words, blue words.
My words, your words.
Old words, new words.
Every day we arrange the 25,000 words we know in unique and highly personalized combinations. With words, we express deep sorrow and loss, as well as shining hope and love. We describe the past with words that show how different it was from our day, and we even invent new words to imagine futures for which no current words will do.
Words are the building blocks of thought; the scribbled bits of genius on a page; the last, despairing expressions of those who have lost hope.
And so, among the many figures in the mind of God, He entered human experience through the very language we employ: “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen His glory, the glory as of a Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).
In Jesus are united the two great words we find impossible to keep together—“grace” and “truth.” In God’s unbounded vocabulary, we can be both fully known and fully loved. And He always has the last word.
So we stay in “grace and truth.” -Bill Knott
When we add all our compliments to all the things we wish were true, there’s still so much we’re glad the world doesn’t know.
Deep within, we know the truth about the real lives we live—the tempers that we can’t control; the people we’ve tried to control; the passions that seem far beyond control. Our hearts are heavy with indictments. We break our vows; we hurt our friends; we fail to do the good we could.
“There is another power within me that is at war with my mind. This power makes me a slave to the sin that is still within me. Oh, what a miserable person I am! Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death?” (Rom 7:23-24).
And from the vast abundance of His grace, the Father speaks to our distress. “I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart” (Eze 36:26).
The promise of new life—within—brings all God’s goodness to us. We cannot save ourselves, and Jesus loves to save us. We cannot fix ourselves, so He rebuilds what pride and lust have broken.
Grace meets the fears we cannot speak, the brokenness we sought to hide, the self-accusing words we use to motivate ourselves. God’s heart of love will heal us yet.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
When we reduce our belief in God to moral tasks we should accomplish, we merely add another tedious volume to our unread self-help library.
Praying for the sick; giving to the poor; exercising patience with exasperating colleagues; forgiving those who badly use us—these are all lovely behaviors—and of no lasting value without grace.
The gospel isn’t an invitation to set our moral house in order, but a declaration that Jesus left His eternal home to live with us, die for us, rise for us, and—one day soon—return for us. “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them. And He gave us this wonderful message of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:19).
Before we lift a broken finger, or give a soiled bill, or try to move beyond our hatred for those who have abused us, we must hear the gospel’s kind yet thundering announcement: “For 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).
Grace is what God has done. Gracious is what we may yet become—through grace.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
When hard rain rattles the window panes three hours before unwelcome dawn; when the first thought of the day is no brighter than the last thought hours before; when the staleness of unchangeable routine offers only more of the same, more of the rain—grace renews the mind.
When we dread the icy comments in the cubicles or at the frozen water cooler; when the anger seethes while helplessness makes our haggard hearts grow cold; when the best thought of the day is that it will finally be over—grace renews the mind.
Redemption isn’t only for those starlit hours when grand and beautiful change starts happening to us. God’s grace accompanies us in hundreds of quite ordinary hours when children fret and spouses quarrel and nothing in our world advances our fond hopes for love or comfort or success.
And so the gospel urges and invites: “Let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect” (Rom 12:2).
Grace is for all hours, all challenges, all rainy days. There is no moment when God’s goodness and affection isn’t gladly, fully offered to us, for us, in us. “His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus” (Phil 4:7).
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
So let’s admit it: we are afraid because bad things have happened in our past, and everything in us shudders at ever being hurt again. Life’s all about negotiating risk, we say, and so we bravely sanctify our fears with strategies to hide the dread that we might end unloved and all alone.
But Jesus says, “My grace is enough for you” (2 Cor. 12:9, CEB)—enough for all our hidden wounds and public failures, enough for all the times when we’ve concluded that we can be either well-loved OR well-known, but never both.
Grace is a healing antidote to fear, repairing and rebuilding whatever sin has poisoned, blighted or corroded.
The worst that can be said of us turns out—amazingly—to be a gorgeous anthem to God’s never-ending, always-reaching love.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Whenever broken lives start mending; wherever someone is set free; when the barriers get lifted and the desperate hear good news, hope for new community is born.
Frightened people long for holding. Lonely people seek for friends. Those whose story was forgotten want a place they can be heard. Grieving persons pray that someday they may learn to laugh again.
In God’s kindness, mercy moves us toward the others saved by grace. What we need, their stories give us: what they need, our hands can bring.
“Dear friends, let us continue to love one another, for love comes from God. Anyone who loves is a child of God and knows God” (1 John 4:7).
Sin demands our isolation: grace invites us to a circle where we gain and give, and give and gain. Gathered ‘round us are the people who will hold us as God holds us.
Find the circle you were meant for. Find the love that gives you hope.
And you will stay in grace. – Bill Knott
Our hearts are subtle and mysterious realms, swept over by the storms of grand emotions.
Why is it that the same offensive words from the lips of a friend can be more easily forgiven than when uttered by a person outside the orbit of our love?
Love holds within it the quality of grace, both when we receive it from the Father, and when we extend it to His children. God chose to love us “while we were yet sinners”—to extend His grace in spite of our offensiveness. But we routinely show that grace to only those who love us in return.
The difference lies in God’s amazing decision to love the entire world as though we had always been His friends. He sovereignly declares that all His children can also be His friends because of Jesus’ sacrifice: “For this is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself” (2 Cor 5:19).
Can loving God expand the orbit of our love? How do we learn God’s graciousness for those who never earned our care—or even wounded us in spite?
We pray for God’s own love to take from us our stony hearts, and give us His great, principled affection for those who still offend us. God’s daily miracle of grace gives each of us—and everyone—the fullness of forgiving love.
So stay in grace -Bill Knott
Does fear sometimes persuade you that you aren’t eligible for the gospel’s promises of peace and restoration? Consider then, the vast variety of souls who found God’s grace when they weren’t looking for it.
A Jericho prostitute. A leprous general. A corrupt tax collector. A woman desperate for a child. A cultured religious leader. A demon-tortured wretch who gashed himself. A dying thief. A cheating king.
The list goes on and on, encompassing men and women in every imaginable life situation—the wealthy and the poor; the aged and the children; the slaves and those who imprisoned them; the doubting and the faithful; the obedient and those who broke God’s law with wild abandon.
“For God has revealed His grace for the salvation of all people” (Titus 2:11).
The Bible is, above all else, a story of hope for broken, wounded, foolish folks like us. We were the people sitting in darkness on whom new light has dawned. “In Christ was life, and the life was the light of all people” (John 1:4). “God showed His great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners” (Rom 5:8).
Grace tells us that we’re loved. Love teaches us to hope. Hope gives us wings to fly to faith. Faith coaxes us to trust in grace.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We say our greatest wounds come from the hands of others. The parent who denied us love; the boss who took the credit for our work; the spouse whose teasing made us cringe—the dirge called “People Who Have Done Me Wrong” is at the top of every playlist. Behind each failure, so we say, there’s someone else responsible.
But God’s Word calls us to admit our greatest sorrows grow from the choices that we’ve made. We nursed our wounds; we hurt our friends; we shut our ears to conscience. We spoke untruths; we weaponized our words; we’ve reenacted all the spite we ever got from others.
“You who judge others do these very same things,” the Bible says (Rom 2:3). “For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard” (Rom 3:23).
Grace helps us see what we’ve refused to see: “Do you not realize that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?” (Rom 2:5). The grace that calls us to account shows us the way to full and free renewal: “If we confess our sins, He who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9).
A new, forgiven life awaits. Don’t miss it for the world.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It’s hard enough to admit mistakes when gripped by the conviction we’ve done something wrong. Our crippling pride protests the humbling of our hearts. It’s harder still when those to whom we should confess make doing so protracted, cold, or shameful.
And so we usually delay in saying what we must—we postpone joy; prolong our reconciliation—because we judge that God is like that irascible uncle or overbearing boss who makes confession difficult. We imagine that a righteous God must want to see us grovel.
But Scripture shows a Father running to embrace His long-lost son; a wounded lover continually forgiving unfaithfulness; a Saviour eager to restore, renew, and heal. “For God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them” (2 Cor 5:19).
Truth is, the Father is more eager to forgive than we are to ask His pardon. His grace flows from abundant and tenacious love: “God sent His Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through Him” (John 3:17).
We miss the Father’s joy when we don’t trust His heart. We squander days that could be bright with happiness and hope. So why delay in telling Him the things you need to say? He knows them all before you speak, and loves you anyway.
Now stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“Never mind.” “Forget about it.” “No worries.” “Don’t mention it.”
We say the oddest things when someone apologizes for what they’ve said or done. You’d think from our replies that nothing serious had happened—that we weren’t, in fact, hurt, damaged or offended. We sound as if forgiveness is a great, gray fog that smothers facts and erases memory.
But God never does. God listens carefully when our hearts are stirred to make things right, for clarity is the bedrock of His grace. “If we confess our sins to Him, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness” (1 John 1:9).
Grace never pretends that wounds didn’t happen or that our broken, foolish choices don’t matter. Jesus was “wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that made us whole, and with His stripes we are healed” (Isa 53:5).
And so the grace of God sees clearly, forgives swiftly, and restores fully. “O Lord, You are so good, so ready to forgive, so full of unfailing love for all who ask for Your help” (Psa 86:5).
The Father’s eyesight never fails. And neither does His love.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Grace is no bubble—beautiful but fragile—momentarily hovering—and covering—the story of our separation from the Father.
Forgiveness isn’t offered just to give us light and hope, even though it always ends in joy and wondrous dreams. No, grace is strong the way a father’s grip is strong—muscle strong, sinew strong, unyielding and unwilling to let go.
The love you cannot earn is also love you cannot lose, for He has never yet allowed one outstretched hand to slip His grasp. God has pledged Himself in language He cannot—will not—disavow: “I have loved you with an everlasting love,” He says; “therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you” (Jeremiah 31.3).
Though life is full of fragile things, God’s grace is never one of them.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
As we learn grace, we also learn its gentleness.
When we mistakenly believed that we could win eternity by toil, we had no patience with mistakes—our own, or those of others. We feared—and judged—all brokenness, as though severity might illustrate our fitness for the kingdom. If it was difficult, then it was good.
But then the Lover of our souls announced His grace while we were mired in our sins—while we were, in His word, “undone.” “God proves His love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8). Our foolish self-redemption project becomes, at last, the task that makes both men and angels softly laugh. We learn, at last, as the apostle wrote, “Christ is all” (Col 3:11).
The kindness Jesus offers us becomes the gentleness we offer others. In time, we learn how to repent of all that isn’t grace.
So stay in grace. - Bill Knott
“But I don’t feel forgiven.”
Millions every day confront the gap between God’s promise to forgive their sins and the relentless guilt that drives them to despair. We trust the truth of our emotions elsewhere: why not here as well?
But a gracious God wouldn’t allow our forever to hang upon the slender thread of changeable—and whimsical—emotions. We love pasta on Tuesday, and don’t ever want to see it again by Friday. We adore a particular shade of green, only to despise it one week later.
Just as it was necessary to trust God’s Word that we were sinners and separated from Him—even when we didn’t feel like sinners—so it’s crucial that we trust God’s Word that we have been forgiven when we place our trust in Jesus—even though we may not feel forgiven.
The apostle John learned this truth from Jesus: “By this we shall know that we are of the truth, and reassure our hearts before Him whenever our hearts condemn us; for God is greater than our hearts, and He knows everything” (1 John 3:19-20).
We don’t activate God’s forgiveness by the intensity of our devotion or the alignment of our emotions: we aren’t that powerful. “Redeemed” is His objective declaration of our actual standing before Him when we claim Jesus as our Saviour.
We are embraced by grace before we love; when we can no longer sing; even when we are still wrestling with our fears.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Why is it we love lists so much—for diets, muscles, marriage, money—even friendships?
“Six Things You Should Never Eat.” “Eight Stretches You Can Do at Home.” “Five Ways to Fireproof Your Marriage.” “Three Best Investments for Recession.” And even “Ten Ways to Know if Friends Are Talking Behind Your Back.”
We want what’s big and daunting in our lives reduced to things we can accomplish. We cling to our illusion: each new list will simplify our lives; we can recapture lost control. We crave the magic of past centuries without the stardust and the spells. Aladdin’s cave should open when we master “Four Ways to Memorize Your Passwords.”
But all that’s deeply valuable in life can’t be reduced to numbered lists—love; faith; eternity; serenity; and joy. When the crowd once asked Jesus, “‘We want to perform God’s works, too. What should we do?’ Jesus told them, ‘This is the only work God wants from you: Believe in the one He has sent’” (John 6:28-29).
Grace is irreducibly amazing—rich and complex, full and free. Any faith that elevates its list of obligations above receiving God’s affection has missed the point of Jesus. “This is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
Trust God to get it right. And stay in grace. - Bill Knott
When you have the chance, choose friends who breathe the air of grace.
Grace doesn’t make them better golfers, but you’ll want their gentleness when you earn that triple bogey on the 8th.
Grace doesn’t make friends wise or witty, but they’ll know to put an arm around you when you’re hurting or discouraged, for God has laid His hands on them.
Grace doesn’t turn friends into counselors, but they can lead you through forgiveness when you’ve blown it big and can’t see daylight up ahead. “For God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them. And He gave us this wonderful message of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:19).
Grace doesn’t give conversation skills, but they’ll stay with you—and not let go—when others would go running for the exits. They’ve heard God say in seasons of deep loneliness: “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness” (Jer 31:3).
Friends who live the grace of God bring hope and kindness on the journey. Keep choosing them.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
If concerts lasted 60 days, the audience would be smaller than the band. If a book took 40 years to read, almost no one would ever finish it.
We want the distillation of a life, not the whole story. We’re looking for the summary, not the entire sermon. We’re addicted to the soundbite, not hours of video outtakes.
And so we speak of grace as an event, even a moment, that can be captured, imaged, even timed. “I got saved at 7:23 pm last Tuesday.” “God turned my life around in 20 minutes during lunch.”
Yet grace is frequently a long and gentle process in our lives—at least a season, often a decade, sometimes an orbit of 50 years. We celebrate the moment of insight; heaven counts the long and winding road that led to now—a thousand times the sad trajectory of our lives was turned so quietly by love. “And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being changed into His likeness from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor 3:18).
The “grace that saved a wretch like me” is simply that moment we became aware of what God has been doing in our lives for seasons and for years. Grace is always present and continuous. Through Christ, we are both “saved” and “being saved,” for grace has no terminus—no end—for those who trust in Him.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The resurrection is the greatest turnabout in time, a reversal of such epic scope that all our yesterdays have been reshaped and all tomorrows made anew. From Friday sundown’s grinding grief to Sunday morning’s glorious light, the balance of the world tipped. We were the people sitting in darkness. Now we greet His rising day. Death and dying lost their grip: life and hope came springing up—out of the ground, within the tomb, above our loss, beyond our sin. Because Christ lives, the world’s dirge will die away; a song of love and grace will be the anthem of the future. Join in the song that never dies: “The Lord has risen—so shall I.” And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
When moondust gathers on your boots, and you clutch a Nobel Prize; when you’ve led the Philharmonic, or you’ve rocked the Colosseum—you still need the gift of grace.
When you’ve made uncounted billions, and a tower bears your name; when the friends at all your parties drive their custom Maseratis—you still need the gift of grace.
When you’ve served the homeless strangers, and provided for the poor; when the offering plates at worship are all brimming with your gifts—you still need the gift of grace.
And when your sins rise higher than that 100-story tower; when the glitterati leave and all the accolades are over; when you cry out for some solace and your spirit craves for peace—you still receive the gift of grace.
“For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast” (Eph 2:8-9).
Nothing we accomplish can achieve what grace has done.
So trust in Christ. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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
Describe the life you’ve always wanted in three simple nouns—no more.
Love, Power, and Excitement.
Wealth, Opportunity, and Fame.
Friends, Risk, and Excellence.
Now try three more—all rooted in a common gift: Grace, Gratitude, and Graciousness.
Grace is how we came to be—and saves us from what we have become. “God decided in advance to adopt us into His own family by bringing us to Himself through Jesus Christ. This is what He wanted to do, and it gave Him great pleasure.So we praise God for the glorious grace He has poured out on us who belong to His dear Son. He is so rich in kindness and grace that He purchased our freedom with the blood of His Son and forgave our sins” (Eph 1:5-8).
And gratitude is an intelligent, mature response to all that that God has gifted us in Jesus. “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God” (Col 3:16).
Graciousness is how we live as loved and honored people—with empathy and gentleness, forgiving as we’ve been forgiven. “Let your conversation be gracious and attractive so that you will have the right response for everyone” (Col 4:6).
Choose wisely when you pick your nouns. Your destiny depends on them.
And stay in grace.
Fear grips our hearts whenever we assume that all our happiness depends on us. We know our brokenness too well: the foolish choices; missed opportunities; the coldness and the distance caused by hot, close things we’ve said.
Unless we’re truly loved in spite of all we’ve done, fear is the natural response to what seems painful randomness.
But grace proclaims a holiday from fear—not for an hour or a day, but for as long as we allow ourselves to be surrounded—yes, and held—by never-ending love.
Grace is God’s reassuring answer to the question mark of fear. “I have loved you with an everlasting love,” He says. “I have drawn you with unfailing kindness” (Jer 31:2-3).
Believe His love. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Those who most object to grace are those who think they need it least—who blithely trust that Jesus has a “higher” way of saving them. No deep repentance, wet with tears, will stain their history: they imagine righteousness will be an earned diploma on some future graduation day.
But there’s only one way to the kingdom, and it passes through the gate of grace. No prior goodness lets us enter by some grander, private entrance; no record of abstaining lets us walk apart from those who’ve wallowed in the mud.
The gate is narrow to exclude all largely self-congratulating selves: we’re either saved by Jesus’ blood, or we’re not saved at all.
So join the line where all must meet: walk hand in hand with all in need.
And stay in grace.
Ask the average person what they need most, and you’ll get a list you’d write yourself: a long vacation; a good night’s sleep; more money on the job; a guide for raising teens.
But rumbling deep beneath the early answers, there is one that resonates for all of us: “Peace with God.”
Even when we’re fed and rested; even when the raise comes through; even when the teens are sweet, we feel the ache of being distant from the Father. The residue of poor decisions, selfishness, and bitter words gnaws at our consciences. And there’s no beach or paycheck that can take that restlessness away.
Jesus offers us the quiet hearts we’ll never find by searching: “I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart” (Eze 36:26). The promise of new life is always there—beneath our brokenness; above our fear; beyond our finest efforts. “Don’t let your hearts be troubled,” Jesus says. “Trust in God, and trust also in me. There is more than enough room in my Father’s home.” (John 14:1-2).
Grace answers what we need the most—connection; love; belonging. There’s nothing better in this world. Or in the next one.
So stay in grace. - Bill Knott
On every day, in every way, God knows what we’ve been doing.
The Father sees each burst of pride, each run of lust, each carelessness that injures others. “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight” (Heb 4:13).
But seeing all does not mean loving less, for love begins with honesty. We want to hide from all we’ve done, and fall for the lie that God no longer loves us. But grace reminds us of the Father’s remedy for shame: “If we confess our sins to Him, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness” (1 John 1:9).
“God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them. And He gave us this wonderful message of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:17).
Grace is the place where we are fully known and fully loved. We need not hide, except in Him: “Your real life is hidden with Christ in God” (Col 3:3). “Where sin abounded, grace did much more abound” (Rom 5:20).
Be seen. Be known. Be held. Be loved.
And stay in grace.
When we’ve tried every other way, we give ourselves—with sighs—to grace. We miss its beauty and its joy because we save it as our last resort, a life ring for the drowning.
We strive as though the goal was to use as little of God’s grace as possible, like salt on vegetables, or gas when heating homes.
But Jesus wants our joy “full-filled”: abundance is the sign of grace. The life that could be yours can now be yours—without delay, without the misery and thrashing.
God saves the desperate, but not because He needs us to be drowning. Enjoy His joy—beginning now—and lasting till forever.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Exert. Perform. Achieve. Repeat. Exert. Perform. Achieve. Repeat
The drumbeat of our days resounds until our souls are never still. We vibrate with intensity at moments when we most crave rest. We work in dreams: we nap at work.
But He who gave to humans work sighs in the heavens for how we have abused ourselves: “Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work” (Exo 20:9). In every week, the Lord who calls the Sabbath His invites us to return to peace: “Come to Me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28).
Our hearts cry out for healing and for wholeness. And Jesus, who created us for joy, reminds us of our destiny: “I came that they may have life, and have it more abundantly” (John 10:10). The endless stress of all we do is ended by one day of grace.
There is a Sabbath in your future. Find the joy.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Unlike a hundred self-help apps, or misty-morning videos that urge us to find answers from within, grace offers us the real-world truth about ourselves while maximizing our potential joy.
Grace announces the bad news about us and everyone we know up front: “For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard” (Rom 3:23).
But brokenness and loss is not the last word about us: “God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8).
A power from outside of us is the only one that can quiet our distracted minds, restore our faith in the future, and set us on the road to rich, fulfilling lives—for now and forever: “For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
And here’s God’s vision of what our relationships can grow to be: “The Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Gal 5:22-23).
No self-help source can promise—and deliver—all that. Grace tells us the truth, heals our brokenness, and secures our joy—forever.
Receive what you can never give yourself.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
If grace were just for me, and not God’s gift to all in need, I might rejoice in my solo salvation and never be a different soul.
But “the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all” (Titus 2:11)—for every individual, yes—but also for the whole of us as Jesus’ faithful way to live with and forgive each other.
Grace truly known always grows into graciousness: the living shows we’re starting to perceive how great the gift is. When I extend the grace of God, I take it deeper in my life. When I forgive, I learn how much there is in me that needs the Lord’s forgiveness.
Grace grows on us, and grows in us, and grows through us.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We make our lists of opposites: love and hate; trust and fear; carnivores and vegans.
And sometimes we assume that the truth God knows about us is at odds with how He saves us, as if the Father must close one eye—or both—in order to embrace us. How can He keep the ones who break His law?
So here it is—the good news in one line: “For God made Christ, who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin, so that we could be made right with God through Christ” (2 Cor 5:21). The Father sees our hate and fear, and weeps when we devour each other. He knows the awful truth. But when we trust in Jesus, He looks only at the love and goodness of the One who never sinned. “So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus” (Rom 8:1).
In grace, God is both just and merciful. Jesus took our penalty: we get His reward. “We have seen His glory, the glory as of a Father’s only son, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14).
So stay in grace—and truth. -Bill Knott
A friend you haven’t seen in weeks stops you on the street. “You’ve lost weight,” she says. “You’re looking good.”
A workmate smiles when you return from two weeks on the beach. “You’re looking rested,” he observes. “The sun and waves do wonders for you.”
And even when the warmth of compliments has faded, we realize that much of what is changing in us is imperceptible to us. We often measure our success by big, important milestones—projects accomplished; degrees earned; structures built; 10K races run. But what is truly changing for the better in us often shifts in micro-movements we don’t notice every day.
Grace is at work in us even when we’re unaware. “And the Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like Him as we are changed into His glorious image” (2 Cor 3:18). As we discover how much we’ve been forgiven, we find that we, too, can forgive. Because we speak with open-heartedness to God, we learn to speak to others with more kindness, deeper warmth—making room for those still learning grace.
Grace makes us right with God, and then it makes us right with others. Welcome the changes only grace can make in you.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
There is no grudging in God’s grace—no “Alright, this one time” or “Even though you don’t deserve it.” He never makes forgiveness hang on promises to not sin again.
“He knows our frame,” the Scriptures say: “He remembers we are dust.” And all our promises—like those who made them—are dusty, broken, unreliable. God forgives as only a Father can—more eager to restore the relationship than recall the rebellion; more focused on what we may become than what we did to wound Him.
Grace flows to us because God’s heart is always love—unstoppable, without a limit. If you could quantify such love, then you, dear friend, would be much greater than He is—and that is rank absurdity.
Receive this love. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
On our best days, we fall far short of our inspiring goals. We say the angry words, repeat the wicked gossip, upset the ones we’re pledged to love. And were it not for grace, our story is an endlessly repeating tale of good intentions and bad performances.
But grace upends what keeps us mired in our sins, for grace proclaims release from guilt, redemption from our foolishness. We get a new and wonderful reset each time we come to Jesus. The slate is cleaned; the record washed; the sins removed as far as east can ever be from west.
This is the genius of the gospel: We need not stay what we once were. We need not be what we are now. Grace pulls us toward the joy for which we were created, and puts the hope back in our story. So move toward joy. And stay in grace. - Bill Knott
When grace has lived a while in us, we wake one day to learn how much we’ve changed, how everything is different.
We speak new kindness to the ones who mock us, or who irritate our peace. We listen well to those who never seemed worth hearing. We find our hearts have been enlarged, with room for those we feared or scorned.
This is the sign of Jesus living in us, and yes, we never saw it coming. Christ changes every heart He owns, replacing stoniness with love.
We get the double blessing of eternity and now—of seeing life renewed in us and all with whom we’re planted. His seed that grows in secret still does yield the sweetest fruit.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
There’s no indictment in the legal system that cuts as deeply as the accusations of a conscience.
Others will misread our motives; some will actively distort our record. Civil justice sometimes proves that it is blind when it won’t see the truth. But the voice within that calls us to account can’t be ignored, and doesn’t wait on jury verdicts. The moral sense God plants within each life “re-minds” us what the courts may never know: “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom 3:23).
“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). No one—not you; not even the nicest person you know—has ever met this standard.
But there is One who makes us now and eternally right with God: “If anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous” (I John 2:1). “He is able, once and forever, to save those who come to God through Him. He lives forever to intercede with God on their behalf” (Heb 7:24).
Because of grace, your conscience can be clear. “In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, O Lord, will keep me safe” (Psa 4:8).
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The bullhorn at the city corner blasts a warning to distracted thousands. Television ads amp up the volume to plant dish soap in our minds. The neighborhood reverberates with raucous party music far into the night.
Does no one understand that quiet also wins our hearts?
God does. To every sound-bombarded soul, He speaks with “the sound of quiet stillness” (1 Kings 19:12). When all the world is noisily demanding action—“Buy this!” “Choose that!” “Vote for X!”—His words are gracefully inviting: “Come now, and let us reason together,” says the Lord, “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isa 1:18). “Come to Me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28).
Grace is God’s whispered invitation to the peace we so much need. Prepare to be quiet—and happier than you have ever been.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We wince when we see arrogance up close: an air of unreality surrounds the child or adult who thinks the world revolves ‘round him. And secretly, we wish for some unscheduled “life event” to teach the lesson in humility they clearly missed. We mutter favorite proverbs: Pride always goes before a fall.
That’s why the gospel teaches us to see ourselves with candor. Lest we think we are so different from our peers, God’s Word declares, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom 3:23). Isaiah long ago affirmed, “All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way. And the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all” (Isa 53:6). Even when we cherish our illusions, “There is none righteous: no not one” (Rom 3:10).
Talent, skills, obedience—none can make us right with God. Only grace revealed in Jesus can tell the truth about our muddled, bungled lives—and also bring our healing. “God has given no other name under heaven by which we must be saved” (Acts 4:12).
Grace humbles us so that we glory in God’s goodness.
Now stay in grace. -Bill Knott
How much are you worth?
The question seems urgent. Brochures in each week’s mail promote new models to calculate personal wealth. Add your savings, retirement account, the value of your home, and any salable assets—and you have a number that approximates your market worth.
But the gospel fixes your worth to a different metric—the value an infinite God places on you. Whatever the asset sheet suggests, “Do not fear,” the Father says, “for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine” (Isa 43:1). “Do not forget all His benefits—who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the Pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy” (Ps 103:2-4).
You are worth what a loving God paid to rescue you. Which is to say—everything. “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).
Believe in the gift of grace. And stay in it. -Bill Knott
For every “rock the road” conversion on the highway to Damascus, there are a dozen quiet stories where grace gently, slowly lights our lives—like sunrise.
Don’t pine for big-time drama, voices thundering at noon, or temporary blindness. Your grace may simply be ascendant hope because you learn that you are loved: what joy to know that darkness grips your life no more!
As day comes on and shadows flee, we learn by hours how to live free. Christ gives His light uniquely for our moments in the Son: there’s not a standard formula for how He wins our darkened hearts. We travel different roads and learn from many teachers the amazing ways He saves us.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Go ahead. Pick any kind of life you want. Survey all faiths, all creeds: examine each philosophy. Take as long as you need to choose the life that’s best for you.
But pick something that brings you peace when all the world’s on fire. Choose a life that’s free of guilt and shame. Select a creed that heals what’s broken in you.
Find something that teaches forgiveness and restoration so you can live in harmony with others. Focus on the kind of life that builds strong marriages and happy children. Identify a faith that gives you hope beyond this earthly life—that promises you an everlasting joy.
And you will choose the gospel—the amazing good news that in Jesus, your life is freed, forgiven, full—forever. Believers for 2000 years are witnesses to the best life human beings can know. Jesus said, “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly” (John 10:10).
Purpose. Meaning. Freedom. Joy. All can be yours when you choose life—and stay in grace. -Bill Knott
On our worst days, we desperately imagine God is but a stern accountant, tallying our sins with unerring accuracy. Because we can’t forget our sins, we assume that an all-knowing God can’t forget them either. “Lord, if you kept a record of our sins, who, O Lord, could ever survive?” ( Psa 130:3).
“But the love of God is broader than the measure of man’s mind. And the heart of the Eternal is most wonderfully kind.”
Hear what a loving Father actually says to those who put their trust in Jesus: “For I will be merciful toward their iniquities, and I will remember their sins no more” (Heb 8:12). The joyous promise of the gospel is the Father’s pledge to both forgive and forget our sins when we trust Jesus as our Saviour. Because of Jesus, heaven’s ledger reads “Paid in Full.”
“This is real love—not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins” (1 John 4:10). God’s love for us is always greater, wider, fuller, deeper than we know.
Receive that always-amazing love. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It’s tough to sing of liberating grace when all we know are dirges about effort. We chorus qualities designed to keep us climbing (ever upward!)—songs of courage, risk, and faith—but then discover that we’re badly, sadly lacking in all three.
Our promises are “ropes of sand.” Our self-talk leads to critical self-doubt. Unyielding guilt dries up our tongues.
But there’s an anthem tuned to hope, and yes, it’s all about the Lord: “We have heard a joyful sound—Jesus saves, Jesus saves!”
The finest songs begin with Him, and end with Him, and He’s in every note between.
We sing of His success, not ours; of His compassion, not our plans. “Shout salvation full and free Highest hills and deepest caves, This our song of victory, Jesus saves, Jesus saves.”
Stay in grace. -Bill Knott
When was the last time you were content?
We fight the question, as though it shouldn’t be asked. Who could be content as prices soar, as violence erupts in homes, in neighborhoods, in nations? When could our hearts be tranquil—in the long commute, the office politics, the deep exhaustion brought on by a dozen undone tasks? “We’re muddling through,” we say through pained half-smiles.
But Jesus offers what we’ll get no other way. To those who take His offered grace, Jesus says: “My purpose is to give them a rich and satisfying life” (John 10:10). As He pledged His return, He offered something priceless: “I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give” (John 14:27). The apostle Paul confirmed he had received that gift: “True godliness with contentment is itself great wealth” (1 Tim 6:6).
Being right with God is the heart of all happiness. That gift awaits you today: accept it now.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“If God has truly forgiven my sins, why do I still feel guilty?” It may be the oldest question of the life of faith—the dissonance between our feelings and the promises of God. The lies we told; the cutting words; the heartache that we caused someone in haste or greed—all these we have confessed as wrong, and asked for promised pardon. But still we feel the unrelenting weight, as though our prayers were never heard. “Let God be true though every man be false” (Rom 3:4). The promise of forgiveness is underwritten by His vow: “If we confess our sins, He who is faithful and just will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 Jn 1:9). “By this we shall know that we are of the truth, and reassure our hearts before Him whenever our hearts condemn us; for God is greater than our hearts, and He knows everything” (1 Jn 3:19-20). God’s Word about us is always more trustworthy than our words about us. Believe the grace that makes you right with heaven. And stay in it. -Bill Knott
If it were up to us, grace would have vanished long ago.
Humans are hard-wired for anger, pettiness, and spite. Just look around: we keep a “righteous” score. We don’t forgive. We even plot revenge on those who injure or insult us. Our code is built on protecting ourselves from a world of people just like us. We do by nature anything that pushes us ahead, above, and to the top.
“My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,’ says the Lord. ‘And My ways are far beyond anything you could imagine’” (Isaiah 55:8). “God sent His Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through Him” (John 3:17). “This is the message we heard from Jesus and now declare to you: God is light, and there is no darkness in Him at all” (1 John 1:5).
Grace flourishes because God rules above our broken world. Everything that’s good and kind and healing comes from otherworldly love that will not let us go.
Believe in love. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“Does God still love me?”
When we’re alone and lonely, or in a crowd and overwhelmed; when the catalogue of condemnation keeps past mistakes before our eyes—no question ever seemed more urgent. Can God—will God—forgive our foolishness and pride? Is God, in fact, much kinder than we imagine Him?
An old hymn sings the truth: “For the love of God is broader than the measures of the mind, and the heart of the Eternal is most wonderfully kind.”
The apostle Paul confirms the point: “He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all—how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things?” (Rom 8:32). “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).
The last thing we need right now is . . . trust—trust that God is as gracious as He says He is.
“There’s a wideness in God’s mercy, like the wideness of the sea. . . “
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We get our guidance from the news—from trending headlines; self-help tips; from what we guess our peers are doing. “Be sharp,” we learn. “Dress well: stay fit.” “Be confident about yourself.” “Keep aiming for a higher star.”
And almost no one says, “Be kind. Be gentle. Walk softly with each other. Lift up the weak. Embrace the ones who never can reward you.”
Except Jesus. For in His grace, He plants in us a whole new way of living. Our deep absorption with ourselves becomes, with time, new seeing and new caring. “Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you” (Col 3:13). “He died for everyone so that those who receive His new life will no longer live for themselves” (2 Cor 5:15).
Grace builds a whole new life for us—a focused life that matters for the here and the hereafter. Christ’s gift continues giving in our lives.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The friend who quietly forgives my sin; the colleague who affirms when she could justly criticize—they make God’s grace more real than half a hundred sermons.
Grace is not just a distant, theological abstraction—a ledger cancellation in some far-off reckoning of sins. Heaven knew we’d never “get it” until grace became a human being whose words and arms and uncondemning love quick-bridged the chasm of our shame.
Give me one grace-filled Christian—holding, speaking, loving as did Jesus—and the future of the world begins to shift.
Night is swallowed up in morning. Fear evaporates beneath the blaze of grace. On such warm love the sun will never set.
And we shall all be changed.
So stay in grace.
One week ago, we sang as though we never could forget: “Christ the Lord is risen today!”
But Tuesday turned out rainy, in the skies and in our eyes. By Wednesday, all the grievances—both small and great—began their dread, familiar march: the pushy colleague who thinks only of himself; the rising price for food and gas; the memories of broken things that fill our thoughts when sleep won’t come. Whatever Easter meant has drifted to the margins of our days. The flowers fade. The bright, white light has dimmed.
And so we must remind each other of the power of good news: “You were once dead because of your failures and sins” (Eph 2:1). “But God forgave your sins and gave you new life through Christ” (Col 2:13). “By grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God” (Eph 2:8). “This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!” (2 Cor 5:17).
Headlines rage and prices soar. Worries come and thunder roars. But one clear fact remains: Christ is alive, and walks a road near you.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
He breathes again. The lungs collapsed by suffocating sorrow Fill again with fragrant air. The eyes still shut by Friday’s tears Now flicker as the retinas Anticipate the brilliant light that once was His. And somewhere deep within, This Man of Sorrows fully smiles With hope delayed, now irrepressible. All things are finished. All things have just begun. For one delicious moment, Creation’s sovereign pauses, lingers, Savoring the joy now rising in His mind. Uncounted millions will awake Some warm, spring resurrection morn— Convinced of love, inhaling light— And stepping out to life unbound. He who prophesied That we will rise Now gathers lilies of His labor. And He is satisfied.
Christ breathes again. And so do we. And so will we. -Bill Knott
In every life, a moment breaks when we confront our poverty. We’ve spent our last ideas: we’ve used up all goodwill. We found that hope was stolen by the accidents of time and chance.
And so we turn to self-help books, to watermelon diets, to exercise extremes that promise to renew our bodies and our minds. We chase the grand illusion that we can mend what’s broken in us by learning business confidence, or losing 30 pounds in 30 days, or watching soothing videos before we sleep at night. Somewhere—out there—must be a fix for all that’s draining us.
And we are then both wrong and right. There is no secret skill in us that will revive our hope—not wealth, or sleek physique, or social capital. But there is Someone who has pledged to give us His abundant life—where shame and doubting are no more. Jesus says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor 12:9).
“You know the generous grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, so that by His poverty He could make you rich” (2 Cor 8:9).
Receive the grace that gifts you Christ’s abundant joy.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
Above the brightest stars of sport; beyond the galaxy of those whose notoriety is redder than their carpets; through all the rags-to-riches tales of newly-minted billionaires, we honor those who give themselves for others.
They run toward fires, not away. They reach the helpless, sometimes at the cost of their own lives. They risk the worst diseases to care for those most ill.
Jesus said, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13).
And He did more than run through fire or speak inspiring words. The Hero of all ages laid down His life for each of us—became the sacrifice we couldn’t make—to save anyone who might become His friend. “For God made Christ, who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin, so that we could be made right with God through Christ” (2 Corinthians 5:21).
Grace is the love that rescues us. It was intentional: it still is free. Now let the greatest hero carry you to joy.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We cringe for things that happened long ago—for memories so sharp and clear we blush whenever we recall them. Perhaps it was a foolish comment in a crowd, an insult that we slung and never dared retrieve. Perhaps the mind clings to an old relationship, where friendship, faithfulness, or trust corroded into bitter rust.
It is our shame, and just behind our bright bravado is the guilt that always trails after. A hundred times we beat ourselves, but neither tears nor lectures to the mirror can lighten what we carry.
Hear what the gospel offers: “God, in His grace, freely makes us right in His sight. He did this through Christ Jesus when He freed us from the penalty for our sins. For God presented Jesus as the sacrifice for sin” (Rom 3:24-25). He who had no cause for shame, who never knew regret for something He had done, took on Himself the guilt of generations. “For the joy set before Him He endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God” (Heb 12:2). Only grand, audacious grace could lift the burden from our backs and free us from the tyranny of shame.
Grace is God’s answer for regret. The shame can end: the blame can cease.
Embrace His grace. And stay in it. -Bill Knott
“Help us to have a good time going to heaven.”
The child’s nervous prayer in church left all the worshippers amused. The urgent business of “going to heaven” is almost never paired with having “a good time.” We’re more accustomed to images of struggle, dark and painful pilgrimage, or battle with our vices—or ourselves.
But Jesus announced a different—better—way of going to heaven. “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly,” He said (John 10:10). “If the Son makes you free, you will be free indeed“ (John 8:36).
The grace made possible by Jesus will energize your here and your hereafter. If joys are never sweeter, if love is never deeper, if no laughter rises from your heart as you walk toward God’s new city, it’s a potent sign that you aren’t living in His grace. He who played with children and healed the broken and threw His arms around each prodigal intends your journey to His kingdom to be the best, most satisfying time of your whole life.
Grace makes the journey anything but grim. Re-learn Christ’s joy as you go walking with Him.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
We call a cottage “gracious” if it boasts verandahs, sweeping lawns, and well-trimmed shrubbery. And what we mean is “easy on the eyes.”
We call a hostess “gracious” if her dinner party brims with well-dressed, laughing guests—if music is well-chosen; hors d'oeuvres are tasty, and waitstaff all attentive. And what we mean is “effortlessly elegant.”
But what when “gracious” equals “hard,” or “agonizing,”—even “deadly”? The Lord who lived His graciousness suffered pain and mocking, nails and death—to win for us a freedom neither elegant nor easy. “For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly” (Rom 5:6). Jesus drank the bitter cup till it was dry; endured the shame, the thirst, the cross; and earned the right to thus define what humans mean by “grace.”
Grace isn’t easy. It’s embracing. Accept the grip of hard-won grace. And stay in it. -Bill Knott
The boss rolls out incentive plans for all whose sales climb 8 percent. And so we dig into the numbers, the sales calls, the lonely hours when others sleep.
The piano competition’s crowning moment offers hours or days of shiny fame. And so we hide ourselves in practice rooms until Bach or Brahms is memorized, or nearly so.
A vision of ourselves atop the podium, hoisting silver-plated trophies to the sky, will make us sweat and strain till muscles scream. Nothing comes without effort.
And so we learn the wrong theology, believing in our core that heaven is a prize for those who pray or fast or do good works beyond the measure of their peers. “Faster, Higher, Stronger” pushes out the grace that saves through faith.
“I am the way, the truth, and the life” Jesus said. “No one can come to the Father except through Me” (John 14:6). “By grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God” (Eph 2:8).
All that’s done will never earn what grace has won. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
If all the guilt of all who ever lived was gathered together and thrown into the sea—it would be a wonderful thing. And that’s just what a gracious God still offers us: “Once again you will have compassion on us,” an ancient prophet rejoiced. “You will trample our sins under your feet and throw them into the depths of the ocean!” (Micah 7:19).
What gives a gracious Father the right to bury the record of our mistakes where no one can find them? Just this: our willingness to let Jesus carry on Himself the weight that has been crushing us. “This is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
By grace, our shame will sink like lead beyond the reach of light. Our foolish sins can all be buried in the Mariana Trench. The pain we’ve carried far too long will decompose among the bottom dwellers.
A new and joyful life awaits us—unworried by our past; unburdened from our sins. We’re moved by grace to think differently, feel passionately, and live abundantly.
Grace pushes all your guilty cargo overboard. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Rising oceans levels will inundate many coastal cities within 50 years. . . . Inflation is galloping at rates not seen since 1982. . . . Thousands of experienced teachers are leaving their profession. . . .
The drumbeat of the daily news is ominous and urgent. Millions find the rhythm of distress and looming disaster both bewitching and exhausting. We dare not miss the hot headline, the “world alert” from media that have addicted us to constant threat and danger. Stay worried, anxious, always vigilant. When all the world’s on fire, how dare we sleep in innocence?
Yet Jesus says, “I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid” (John 14:27). The news that we can’t live without is good—indescribably good. The gospel is the promise that our broken, bungled lives can be repaired and healed by God’s unfailing love. “I have swept away your sins like a cloud,” God says. “I have scattered your offenses like the morning mist. Oh, return to me, for I have paid the price to set you free” (Isaiah 44:22).
Grace is the best news ever—and for always. So stay in it. -Bill Knott
It’s easy to be gracious to the gracious—to those who recognize their fault and seek to make amends. It tasks our virtue less than third grade math might task a physicist.
But let the one who wounded us be hostile or impenitent—and we will struggle like an eight-year-old confronted with a theorem. Our greater “virtue” goes unrecognized by unrepentant sinners. We bite our lips to keep from saying what we know—that all the fault is theirs; that we were always right.
So Jesus challenges us with God’s much higher standard: “If you love only those who love you, why should you get credit for that? Even sinners love those who love them! . . . Love your enemies! Do good to them. Lend to them without expecting to be repaid” (Luke 6:32, 35).
And so we glimpse the heart of God, who in the chaos of our stubbornness still offers us forgiveness—wholeheartedly and kindly: “Yet God, in His grace, freely makes us right in His sight. He did this through Christ Jesus when He freed us from the penalty for our sins” (Rom 3:24).
Grace is God’s strange gift to us, and not a virtue we acquire by practice or devotion. His kindness brings about our kindness, and we forgive as we have been forgiven.
Receive His gift. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
So what is love, but a way of knowing that the universe is not the random, unconfigured emptiness that made us feel lonely? And what is grace, but a way of seeing all of it—the little joys, the grand exhilarations, the trusting friendships we form—as part of one great plan unfolding for our good?
Grace didn’t start when we discovered it—when we were suddenly aware we needed hope and freedom, when the crushing weight of our mistakes was taken off our backs. God’s deep and saving care for each of us was just as true when we were blind to it, and when our arrogance declared we were the masters of our fate. In all those long and desperate nights we fought with life and tried to force the future to our will, God still was “compassionate and merciful, slow to get angry and filled with unfailing love” (Psa 103:8).
The arc of all we know is toward the love that will not let us go. Behind each moment, in each day, through all the setbacks and successes, grace has been preparing us for joy, for peace, for trusting love.
Why wait another hour to let your life align—again—with all that Christ is doing? “I am the one who is, who always was, and who is still to come,” He says (Rev 1:8).
Receive the grace that always has been there for you. And stay in it. -Bill Knott
We stare at photos of our classmates from yesteryear, remembering the giftedness, the ring of laughter, the endless optimism. We were—in no particular order—going to change the world; work for peace; be millionaires by 30; vault to the corporate ladder’s top; marry wise and beautiful people; take wonderful vacations. Life seemed an endless banquet.
But now we’ve learned how tough the world is. We’ve tasted bitterness and sorrow. We’ve watched great loves grow cold and vanish like the smoke. The competition still exhausts us—to get ahead, or just catch up. A thousand times we ask ourselves, “What might have been?”
Regret is still our lowest common denominator. By someone’s scale, we should have achieved more, experienced more, acquired more by now. And when we think of all we’ve promised God, remorse grows even deeper.
Which is why we must listen to the gospel—often. No one else is saying what the Father always says: “Though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them as white as snow” (Isa 1:18). “He does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is His love for those who fear him” (Psa 103:10-11).
Only grace can overcome regret. With Paul, we practice that abundant life that Jesus came to give us: “I do this one thing: I forget about the things behind me and reach out for the things ahead of me” (Phil 2:13).
Now stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The accolades descend like tickertape. The headlines trumpet “talent,” “breakthrough innovation,” even “genius.” The penthouse suite no longer holds his new-found friends, who wait for selfie moments with the star. But in his heart of hearts he asks, “Am I really loved for me?”
Her performance brings the critics to their knees. “A soaring voice,” “a perfect portrayal of opera’s most tragic heroine,” “a triumph,” “a revelation.” But when the final curtain call is done and all the great reviews are folded, she wonders, “Am I really loved for me?”
It’s the question that never goes away—a deep uncertainty lingering beyond the money, power, skill or fame. And even well-meant promises from lovers, colleagues, friends and crowds don’t fill the emptiness within.
Jesus says, “I have loved you just as My Father has loved Me” (Jn 15:9). “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them” (2 Cor 5:19). “God proves His love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8).
We never tire of learning that we’re loved—at our best, at our worst; in our doing—and undoing. We may be brilliant, broken, blessed or bruised, but “with Him there is no alteration or shadow caused by change” (James 1:17).
The old song urged, “The gospel in a word is ‘love.’” Hear that melody again, and let yourself believe.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
If it were up to us, we’d save the world with money—lots of money—distributed to give each person food to eat and shelter from the storms.
If it were up to us, we’d save the world through education—teaching children how to read, filling schools and universities—for knowledge has advantages.
If it were up to us, we’d save the world by banning war—undoing arsenals, dissolving armies, teaching skills of compromise.
All these are good: we’ve tried them all. Yet still we wrestle—endlessly—with poverty, injustice, and the violence they breed. The vast inequities of life defy our grandest visions.
God says, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways” (Isa 55:8). He who knows us best and loves us most will save the world His way.
“For this is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). “God showed His great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners” (Rom 5:8).
Grace is God’s answer to our broken, messed-up world, for grace addresses all that causes hunger, homelessness and war. God heals the heart, and then, in turn, our minds, our bodies, and communities .
Begin with grace, and watch the world change. And stay in it. -Bill Knott
The diet lasts a dozen days. The treadmill hasn’t spun 10 miles. The Bible sits where it was left, unopened and unsavored. We grieve the effortless unraveling of all the goals we wanted to achieve—to lose the weight; increase the steps; find hope and quiet in God’s Word.
We are too close to dreams undone, to lofty visions gone awry.
So how does God address our lack of grit and gratitude?
“I will be faithful to you and make you Mine, and you will finally know Me as the Lord,” God says (Hosea 2:20). “He knows our frame,” the psalmist says. “He remembers we are dust” (Psa 103:14).
And so Christ came, to walk our dust, to know our pain, to understand how irresolute we are. “This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for He faced all of the same testings we do, yet He did not sin” (Her 4:15).
Grace always moves toward us, redeems our goals, and tells us we are loved. We fall in step with One who holds us when we stumble. He is resolved when we are not, and faithful when we wander.
Receive His strength. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The Earth, at least, has made an orbit—elliptical and brilliant, 600 million sprawling miles—since last we looked at January 1st. But there has been no grand trajectory to how we’ve lived the dimming year.
We’ve muddled through our COVID time with half a heart and frequent doubts. How much should we commit when everything seems tenuous, so capable of multiple bad endings? We dare not lean far forward: experience says we can’t lean back. Time gallops when we need it slow; it crawls when we are stuck and sore. Relationships still fray with distance; some are too far away, and some too close.
And so we turn to that one place that is both safe and full of grace: “Lord, You have been our dwelling place in all generations” (Psa 90:1).
When the story of our past is painful; When our future is unsure; Only God, who lives forever, Offers grace that will endure.
He who measures time by eons has no measure for His love. “I have loved you, My people, with an everlasting love,” the Father says to all who choose His reign. “With unfailing love I have drawn you to Myself” (Jer 31:3).
Walk into 2022 assured of God’s deep, lasting care for you. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
O come, all ye faithful,
Joyful and triumphant, O come ye, O come ye to Bethlehem.
But we are not all joyful; And we are not all faithful. “Triumphant” is a claim that stays A year or two—or ten—away. We’ve lost the cadence in our rhyme; We’ve lost the ones we loved to time Or dimming memory or disease— Where is this house of bread and ease? Yet still we tread with hope that clings; We murmur faith and barely sing On each hard day, through each dark night: “There is a God who makes things right.”
O come, ye worried and undone; O come, ye who have often run. O come, ye broken and confused; O come, ye bullied and abused. O come, when sin requires grace; O come, when you have missed the race. Yes, come, ye doubters, restless souls— This Child will live to make you whole.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
A billion Christmas cards will picture them—these Magi, wise men from the East—with camels, sand, and one bright star. They traveled once to find a Child: we travel now to share our gadgets, eat too well, and put the fading year behind us.
But theirs’ was not a trip: it was a quest—a deep displacement of their lives because they guessed the Child they sought would heal their wounds; relight their skies; upend what they had previously called “wise.” They staked their reputations, privileges and wealth on finding One whose value system overturns the world. “He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption” (1 Cor 1:30).
“And they bowed down and worshipped Him” (Matt 2:11). Praise was the real gift they brought, for no one ever outgives grace.
Be wise this Christmas, even if you never move a mile. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The storybooks of Christmas brim with narratives of hidden visits and secret surveys of our kindness. In our extravagance and parties, Jesus visits those who bear His name disguised as a destitute old man, a homeless young woman, or a lonely child shut out from all the feasting and the revelry.
And we lower our heads, and promise to do better, and actually drop our extra change into the Salvation Army bucket when we leave the stores, laden with our gifts.
But the truest narrative of Christmas is about the gift of presence—God with us, for us—Immanuel who will not let us go. It is the gracious presence of our God we celebrate at Christmas: He walked our streets; He ate our food; He knew hard work and sweat and pain; He celebrated friendship.
Grace is the gift of presence, not of presents. Christ became a human to erase our loneliness, our fear, our dread. “His life brought light to everyone” (John 1:4).
Welcome Him—again—into the inn of your soul. And stay in grace.
“Be safe,” uncounted angels urged, and watched with apprehension as the One who made them want to sing stepped down through light years and past planets to a home in Mary’s silent womb. It was the first time they had ever been without His joy. How would His strange descent to live among the broken, tragic, helpless race of humans—letting Himself be born as one of them—affect the ceaseless happiness of heaven?
And so they practiced for nine months, suggesting harmonies so rich and descants they had never tried, to craft a song—the perfect song—for that first night He would appear, an infant wrapped in birthing bands. They found from months of searching just the audience they wanted—sleepy shepherds in the fields—who never had heard music of that quality or kind.
And when the birth had happened, when months of pent-up chorusing became unstoppably joyous, they burst forth on the hills near Bethlehem: “Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!” (Luke 2:14).
Grace was always heaven’s plan: peace and goodwill are what our God has always offered us. Jesus, “the Lamb who was slain from the creation of the world” (Rev 13:8), was first chorused to a flock of shepherds. And the joy of those who sang—and the joy of those who heard—has set our world in motion with the rhythms of His grace.
Be listening for the music as you celebrate His birth. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
If everything is owed to us; if every stream should flow toward us; if we imagine we must regularly be served—there will be nothing to be thankful for. And we will go our careless way to dominate, control, abuse.
But if our lives are really gifts; if every breath is one more grace, then we are not what we achieve, but actually, the sum of all that’s given us.
And we grow grateful for things great and small—for vast, majestic sunsets and for sweet warblers singing in the yard. We see the gift in toddlers’ smiles, and relish simple, joyful laughter. We savor food, remembering the many hands who served and toiled to bring this gift to us. We turn to colleagues and to friends with words that warm them, fill their hearts: “Thank you for the gift you are. I am so blessed to walk with you.”
And if we live in faith, we turn to God and say from what is deepest in our lives—"Unseal my lips, O Lord, that my mouth may praise You” (Psa 51:15). “Let all that I am praise the Lord; may I never forget the good things He does for me” (Psa 103:2).
All gratitude is born in grace, and sees the world through grace-filled eyes. “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”
Embrace what has been given you. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Where is God when it hurts?
The question is painfully familiar. In every moment when we suffer, we raise our tearful eyes to heaven and ask what all this pain accomplishes.
Will warring nations come to peace because the children starve? Not likely. Will all the daily indignities of living without water and without wealth adjust the fairness of the planet? Not on any planet we know. Will sleepless nights and searing pain ensure some future happiness? There are no guarantees.
And does God know how much we hurt when bodies ache and hopes fall flat? “Because God’s children are human beings—made of flesh and blood—the Son also became flesh and blood. For only as a human being could He die, and only by dying could He break the power of the devil, who had the power of death” (Heb 2:14).
Jesus is God’s answer to the riddle of our pain. The One who made the universe came down to walk our roads and eat our food and feel our loss and cry our tears. He stands beside us; with us; on our side. Grace is God’s presence in our loneliness.
“Whoever has the Son has life” (I John 5:12). Meaning will yet rise from all this broken ground.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Safe.
Perhaps you mean a metal-banded box, a vault—a walk-in, high-tech cave where wealth is stored.
Perhaps you mean a spot on earth where threats are temporarily gone, where you can stretch out on the grass, fearing neither man nor beast.
Perhaps you mean a chosen friend, a spouse—a person who will hear your deepest hurts and never leave you by yourself.
You surely mean the covenanted God who is far bigger than our brokenness, our sin—who gathers up and fathers out to all who choose His open arms. “He has removed our sins as far from us as the east is from the west. The Lord is like a father to His children, tender and compassionate to those who fear Him” (Psa 103: 12-13).
For all His untamed love and unchecked power, our God is deeply and forever safe. “He never changes or casts a shifting shadow” (James 1:17).
Come home to safe. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Beyond the screaming headlines; beneath the pundits’ withering analysis; above the daily outrage of our inhumanity to each other, there is a ceaseless broadcast of good news that outlasts every news cycle.
“For this is how God loved the world: He gave His one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16).
Unlike so much we count as “news,” there’s nothing fake about it. No inflated facts or twisted meanings here: this is the calm, eternal truth about a God who won’t stop loving us, even when we’re most unlovable.
And on that day when this amazing news grabs your attention like headlines set in four-inch type, it will bring meaning, warmth, clear light and color like no blog or newsfeed ever has.
You are loved, and not just when your hair is combed and you’ve been living in between the lines. You are cherished by the God who welcomes prodigals back home, who goes in search of wayward sheep, whose “steadfast love endures forever” (Psalm 118:1).
Grace is the news we cannot live without. Write it somewhere on your walls today.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The first time we forgive a galling wound, we seem all noble, elevated, full of moral worth. Given how superior we feel, forgiveness seems its own reward.
The second, third, and fourth occasions remind us that forgiveness doesn’t always change the one who angers or offends us. The callous and insensitive may continue just as they were.
About the seventh time, we feel like fools—like 12-year-olds who discover Santa Claus was never real. Why should we keep forgiving when wounding doesn’t stop? Isn’t there a cut-off point when injuries continue? “‘No, not seven times,” Jesus replied, “but seventy times seven!’” (Matt 18:22).
Forgiveness isn’t asked of us so we may feel wise and worthy. Forgiveness is cross-bearing, following Jesus deep into the world’s pain because this is the way God loves, even for the stony and hard-hearted. How many of us would be in grace if Heaven had drawn the line at seven, and left us to our fate thereafter?
The apostle Paul, who was so much forgiven and thus called to forgive so much, once wrote: “Be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you” (Eph 4:32).
Keep praying for the grace to keep forgiving. And stay in it. -Bill Knott
“This is my faith,” we proudly say, and point to doctrines, dogma, sacred books. “These I believe,” we chorus as we sit in church, surrounded by the arsenal of arguments built up to counter unbelief.
But what is faith at 3:00 a.m. when worries gather in the dark like spiders on the ceiling? What is our trust when feverish loved ones groan and fret, and we feel helpless to relieve their pain?
The heart of faith is trusting in God’s unrelenting love, much more than lining up beliefs or getting answers to our prayers. To be assured of His affection—to know His hand on us, His salve for all our wounds, His quiet but all-kindly grace—this is the bond that makes faith powerful and real. “Be sure of this,” Jesus says. “I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matt 28:20). Christ is never absent.
The truths we teach are, at their best, descriptions of our trust in grace. The love we never earned and don’t deserve is lavished on us just because God’s heart is love.
When we trust deeply, we speak well of God: we tell God’s truth. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
You know the moment—that instant when your heart hurts terribly from loss or grief. The air seems heavy, hard to breathe. Your mind crawls backward in the dark.
And blessedly, you may also know that moment when a wise friend, often without words, reaches out to hold you, fold you while you grieve.
That grip is grace, made real because the love and reassurance are real. It doesn’t yield in fine-tuned explanations or hang on eloquence. Sometimes the kindest comfort is the silence shared with one who will not let you go.
At its most basic level, the grace of God does not rely on words. The psalmist sang: “You have no equal. If I tried to recite all Your wonderful deeds, I would never come to the end of them” (Ps 40.5). The fact of Jesus, sent to us before He learned to speak a word, is proof enough that grace is first companionship—the knowledge that we’re never left alone, abandoned, or unloved. The wordless Word of God gave witness of the Father’s love before He ever preached or taught or healed our wounds.
“He Himself was before all things. And He holds all things together” (Col 1:17)—including us.
Stay where you’re loved. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We measure almost everything in life by big moments: “The day I got married.” “The week I started the new job.” “That instant on my first skydive when I jumped from the plane.”
Memorable as they are, big moments aren’t the real substance of our lives. It’s years of staying married that add value; the honest work that yields satisfaction month by month; the friends who walk with us across the years—who share the “ordinary” days.
The life of faith is like that too. It’s the dailiness of prayer that builds our joy and stamina—the hours of deep openness when “the love of God is spread abroad in our hearts” (Rom 5:5). Trust is built by time and distance shared. A thousand miles of undramatic journeys with Jesus are worth far more than brilliant, blazing moments.
“I have fought the good fight,” the apostle Paul told us. “I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Tim 4:7). Paul knew that there is grace at every marker, every signpost, every crossroad.
Keep running—or walking—with Jesus today. And stay in grace.
“God is always disappointed with me.”
It’s the mumbled sentiment of many who aspire to a higher, wiser life. We know our failings far too well: we tell half-truths or flat-out lies; we use our power to dominate the weak; we abuse our bodies, as if they really were our own.
And we assume that God is always studying the gap between His law and our performance. Even on our best days, we don’t reach our own half-hearted expectations, never mind His call to holy living. And so we think our failings keep Him at long distance—continually frustrated with us.
But the gospel says God loves us differently. “ For God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them” (2 Cor 5:19). Even when we lapse into our habits of shame and self-loathing, His attitude toward us remains unchanged: “God sent His Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through Him” (John 3:17).
“By grace”—by God’s unyielding affection for you—"you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God” (Eph 2:8).
You cannot earn the Father’s love. You cannot lose the Father’s love.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Sometimes we have to choose to remember the good things.
So much of daily life is, as we say, “taken for granted.” We assume when we go to bed that our eyes will open in the morning. We don’t worry whether the car will start in the morning. We live our seasons believing there will be enough sun and rain to grow the grass and water the trees. Nothing out of the ordinary here.
But the Word of God urges us to actively remember that none of these things is guaranteed: each is the Father’s loving gift. When our happiness increases, His joy overflows. “Bless the Lord, O my soul,” the psalmist reminds himself, “and do not forget all His benefits—who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the Pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy” (Psalm 103 2-4).
It’s easy to take even amazing things for granted—like forgiveness, and healing, and grace. And while He is no less God whether we remember Him or forget His goodness, the choice to celebrate His consistent kindness opens the door to abundant living.
God is both very great and very good. His power—His rulership—is matched with tenderness and vast affection for us. Take what He has granted. Choose gratitude.
And stay in grace.
“Love your enemies.”
It’s one of Jesus’ best-known statements—and one of the most misunderstood. The mere mention of those who hurt us, slandered us, or victimized us uncovers all our buried helplessness and anger. Our memories work too well: we can’t summon the will to overlook the painful past. The thought of one day loving those who wounded us seems just another of faith’s impossibilities.
And so we need a power greater than ourselves—which is just what we have received: “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us” (Rom 5:5). Only the gift of supernatural grace—the kind the Father has shown to us “while we were still sinners” (Rom 5:8)—can ever move us to reimagine our enemies as friends: “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are” (1 John 3:1).
Our enemies are just as fully loved by God as we are. When we receive His gift of love, we learn, in time, to gift it on to them. Grace is this angry world’s best hope for healing.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It’s the fiercest rule of our culture: the greater the injury—the deeper the wound—the less likely that forgiveness will ever—ever—be offered.
When a friend forgets a lunch appointment or a colleague fails to meet a crucial deadline, we find a grudging grace to overlook the infraction. But if the angry words are public; if the damage done is measured in broken buildings or broken bones, our interest in forgiveness disappears.
We are so fortunate that God’s ways aren’t like ours. According to the Scriptures, we’re all complicit in the greatest injury to God the world has ever devised—the crucifixion of His Son. It was our sins—large and small, deliberate and impulsive—that whipped and beat Him, drove the nails, and pushed that thorny crown on Him. We mocked and taunted Him as He hung dying.
And yet, “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). Amazingly, “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through Him” (John 3:17).
Forgiveness flows from God’s amazing grace. We first receive it; then practice it; then glory in it, for we are saved by it.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
When we add up all our failings; when we see how frequently we fall, it seems we’ll never find the exit to this sad amusement ride. Our angers still routinely flare; our pride leaps higher day by day; our self-absorption is a carousel of serving just ourselves. The happiness we thought we’d find—in being kinder, wiser, gentler, free—feels always, always out of reach. We circle ‘round and ‘round: there is no merry to this ride.
We need an end to what we’ve been. With the apostle Paul we cry, “Oh, what a miserable person I am! Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death?” (Rom 7:24).
To all who hope for better things, the gospel speaks with clarity: “For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard. Yet God, in His grace, freely makes us right in His sight. He did this through Christ Jesus when He freed us from the penalty for our sins” (Rom 3:23-24).
Our past need not predict our future: grace abounds at every turn. “This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for He faced all of the same testings we do, yet He did not sin. So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive His mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most” (Heb 4:15-16).
Your life can change. Your hope will grow.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
At the heart of why we struggle to understand the “otherness” of God is our assumption that He must be, in some sense, just a grander and more powerful version of us.
If we’re preoccupied with tomorrow, God must think of nothing else, for He controls tomorrow. If we’re sorrowful or angry when people disappoint us, God’s indignation must be multiples of ours. Because we find it hard to forgive, we think that He forgives reluctantly, and only when petitioned.
But God loves differently. “’For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways,’ declares the Lord” (Isa 55:8). In the heart of God there’s an unquenchable affection for us, even when we’re anxious, even when we’re angry, even when we stumble at forgiving—or believing we’ve been forgiven. “Because of His great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved” (Eph 2:4-5).
We know no one who loves like God—who will not be distracted and cannot be dissuaded from loving us, embracing us. “This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1 John 4:10).
We’ll never comprehend such grace. But we can welcome it; rejoice in it; be warmed by it.
And stay in it. -Bill Knott
Ask any skilled musician, and they’ll tell you everything begins with practice.
Behind the brilliant concert hall performance or the music video that goes viral lie a hundred—or a thousand—hours of tedious and undramatic practice. Cognitive skill, muscle memory, an adroit sense of timing, and a touch of interpretive expression meld, at last, into a moment that can soothe or challenge, inspire or amaze.
We practice who we want to be, even though on every day, our practice isn’t perfect. If we rehearse our injuries—the snubs we felt; the spite endured; the untrue things that made us weep—we build the tuneless selves that amplify the world’s dirge.
And if, through grace, we practice peace; if we rehearse transparency and love, the song of Moses and the Lamb becomes the music of our lives (Rev 15:3). We sing with those who celebrate; we comfort those who mourn a loss. We pass the trifling goal of sounding good, and actually start doing good. The grace that filled our dark with song now stirs deep hope for those who need a melody.
So practice gentleness and joy. Rehearse how Jesus rescued you—from sin and from yourself. Let kindness be the memory of your voice. Ten thousand ears will bless you.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
My faith is but a sandy castle Trembling on the beach of time.
Many of us could write that line, or whisper it at least. We are awash in our mistakes—the hot words said; the things consumed; the foolish deeds that damaged health or wounded those we love.
On good days, we remember grace, and for some hours, the tide recedes. But then a wave of surging guilt erases faith’s small towers on our beach. Will nothing change this ebb and flow?
So speak aloud the grace you know. Rehearse to someone good things God has done for you—the reconciliations made; the habits changed from bad to better; the kindness that you practiced until caring seemed like second nature. Through grace, your life is different than it was. And every difference that you voice will be a brick against the tide.
Faith grows by hearing, even when you listen to yourself. “The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart —that is, the word of faith that we are proclaiming” (Rom 10:8).
Your faith is built upon a rock, and Jesus never fails.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It’s just a subtle shading of the truth, a slight deflection from the facts, that tempts us to dishonesty, especially with ourselves.
“I’m not so bad,” we say with evident relief when we remember tyrants, madmen, and the vicious from our history books. “My sins are nothing in comparison to theirs.” There are no obvious casualties from our mistakes, no line of grieving people who point to us as causing all their woe. And so we wrap our consciences with layers of white gauze, muffling what dissonance the Spirit stirs within us.
But God is moving in us for a reason: “Do you not realize that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?” (Rom 2:4). Those qualms we feel when we adjust the truth or tell a lie or leave the wrong impression are actually sweet signs of hope. God cares enough about the truth that He will stir us till we let Him realign our reasoning. “You desire truth in the inward being; therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart” (Psalm 51:6).
In grace, God teaches us to speak the truth—to others, yes, but firstly to ourselves. Discover joy as honesty increases.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Some wit has cracked that there are just two kinds of people in the world: those you would go walking with, and those with whom you never would.
Simple as it seems, it helps us choose companions for the journey.
There are so many angry souls, exuding ego, spitting spite, who make an office hallway walk a journey of deep angst and fear. They have no patience for us fools; they scorn forgiving others’ sins; they call for justice, not for love. And yes, they always walk alone.
But there are others, touched by grace, who breathe the cleaner air of peace. With them, we’d walk around the world, or at least five times around the block. They listen better than they speak. They’re quick to heal, slow to challenge, offering the safety broken, wounded people crave. And no, they never walk alone.
Grace teaches us with whom to walk, remembering that we were once alone, undone, and far from God. But now “you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God” (Eph 2:19).
We were meant to walk with others. Choose the ones who bring you joy.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
A host of proverbs in our culture urge the need for wariness: “Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.” “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” “It is better to be a living dog than a dead lion.”
We learn the lesson while we’re young: don’t trust too much; forgive too much; believe too much; endure too much.
But what if God took such an attitude with us? What if heaven’s scorecard righteously declared, “One strike and you’re out”—or even “Three strikes and you’re out”? What if, instead of wounded love, the Father met the prodigal at the door with directions to the nearest halfway house? What if God insulated Himself against the likelihood of our repeated mistakes, our continuing folly, our headstrong rebellions?
The gospel couldn’t be clearer: “Love bears all things, believes all things, love hopes all things, endures all things (1 Cor 13:7). “But God proves His love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8).
Grace always takes unlikely risks, defies the odds, and chooses to believe that hearts can soften, pride may melt, and prodigals should get a full embrace.
Accept the always-reaching love that knows how grace will lead us home. And stay in it. -Bill Knott
In the maelstrom of our age, when wars erupt, and tyrants strut, and treacheries abound, what place is there for grace? It seems a gentler, weaker virtue, made for temperate times.
But what could be stronger than the forgiveness that finally heals the blood feuds of the past, or thoughtfully agrees to end the decades lost to vengeance? Negotiated peace is still the longest-lasting kind.
And what is weak about the calm deliberation that stares stark evil in the eye and resolves to love it to death? Those who choose to lay aside their swords are those whom history blesses and God rewards. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God” (Matt 5:9).
Grace reverses all our estimates of power, for grace comes from God, and He rules everything. “God chose things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise. And He chose things that are powerless to shame those who are powerful“ (I Cor 1:27).
When we choose grace, we choose the power that need not brandish all its strength. Grace is God’s strength in us, and through us to our world. It heals wounds; it beats back wrong; it builds relationships that last. And it will triumph in the end: “At the name of Jesus every knee will bow—in heaven and on earth and under the earth—and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father” (Phil 2:10-11).
Grace wins—both now and when all struggles cease. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Does God love us more when we deny ourselves chocolate? Or raspberry ice cream? Or long, delicious afternoons in the backyard hammock?
Ask some people of faith, and they’ll say “Yes”—and quote Jesus as the proof: “If any want to become My followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow Me.”
But this is the same Jesus who went to weddings and banquets, laughed easily and often, spent afternoons playing with children, and frequently withdrew from the hectic pace of serving others to be renewed by peace and prayer and greenery.
What needs denying—every day, in every way—isn’t the rightful enjoyment of life in the body for which we were created. It’s the ultimately ungodly idea that we can save ourselves, redeem ourselves, or work our way back into God’s favor by things we do—or don’t. “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God” (Eph 2:8).
Grace is all about deeper, joyful living. Jesus said, “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (Jn 10:9). That fuller life awaits you. Claim it now.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
How frequently do those around you fail?
The habit of noting—and recording—the mistakes our peers make every day is so ingrained that we now value it as proof of our discernment and greater moral value.
“She’s always late to work,” we say with obvious exasperation, secretly enjoying the superiority of our valued punctuality. “He‘s irritable,” we growl as some overwhelmed and unsupported colleague vents in an unwelcome way. Each stumble made by others somehow elevates us in this secret virtue war we’re waging.
And yet, we are undone—disheveled—when our full story comes before the only Judge who really matters. “If you, Lord, kept a record of sins, Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, so that we can, with reverence, serve you” (Psa 130:3-4). The grace and mercy of our God cannot be overpraised: “I will forgive their wickedness,” He says to all who turn to Him, “and I will never again remember their sins” (Heb 8:12).
God’s grace to us is meant to teach us grace to others. His kindness—to us, for us, in us, through us—is never meant for only us.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Why was that string around your finger?
Because you so much wanted to remember that you didn’t trust your ordinary powers. Or you wrote it on a note and taped it to your door. Or set three alarms so you didn’t miss the time.
We know how easily we forget even big, important things that undergird our lives—the faithful love of a committed spouse; our need to play with children; the gratitude for those who cherish us—and tell us so.
And the grace of God.
That’s why we must remind each other every time we can about the love that saves us; how good the gospel really is; why there’s great evidence for confidence about the future. Without such frequent—daily—calls to grace, we slide back into old and useless habits, thinking we must work our way into His love. “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ” (Eph 2:13).
We need reminders of God’s love, for we can never hear good news too often. Grace is the best thing to remember.
So stay in it. -Bill Knott
Do you want a better life—a life of clarity and purpose, filled with strength and kindness?
We seek it on the self-help shelves of every dying bookstore, or hope to find new fire in our Kindles. A thousand authors sell us dreams of well-toned self-improvement, built on buying exercise equipment, attending costly seminars, finding confidence at work, and getting what we want in marriage.
They all assert a common fallacy—that we have untapped power in us, power to reinvent ourselves; energy and perseverance that never have shown up before; and disciplines that usually last like water-only diets.
There’s just one power that changes from within. And it’s a force from outside us—the grace of Christ who says He comes to live in us. Paul the apostle said it well: “It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me” (Gal 2:20). To believers Paul wrote: “I pray that, according to the riches of His glory, He may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through His Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith” (Eph 3:16-17).
Grace gives us power to change and grow: we’re now connected to the One who made us; loves us; holds us; helps us.
Your better life awaits. So wait no longer.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We love being right so much we often get it wrong.
It’s sheer deliciousness to know more than someone else, to offer the correct answer when the teacher asks a question or the boss needs information. And when we have the final fact that vanquishes opponents, we bask in the warm glow of self-congratulation. I’m right; they’re wong. New verse; same song.
We relish moments when our rightness can’t be challenged. They feed our central narrative of righteous pride in who we are, how well we have prepared.
But imagine for a moment if Jesus had done similarly with us. He who made all things, including us, has at His fingertips and in His mind all facts, all truths, all righteousness. But still He stoops to welcome prodigals back home—ragged, dirty as we are, with wrong opinions and bad habits.
For Jesus, being right also means “being right with us”—reuniting us to the love that will not let us go: “In Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them” (2 Cor 5:19). Grace makes you right, especially when you’re wrong.
Don’t get this one wrong. Receive the love that restores and reconciles.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Loneliness can last a long time.
The most persistent evidence of our woundedness is our sense of isolation. Whether we’ve blown it big or made some piercingly narrow mistake, we want to hide—withdraw—to keep our sin a secret. Broken and alone, we discover the trap we’ve fallen into—one that can grip us for days or even years. Like Adam and Eve in the original garden, we hide from the God who so much wants to heal us.
Enter a Saviour named Jesus. He joined two frustrated, lonely men for an afternoon walk on the very day of His resurrection (Luke 24:13-35). And He joins us even when our mistakes and pride keep us apart from the caring communities He’s trying to create around us. Grace builds circles of healing and support where we are never alone, never abandoned, and always embraced.
The road is never empty. Healing happens as we walk together.
So walk in grace. -Bill Knott
Line up 15 people, and ask each in turn to quietly repeat a simple, three-point story from one to the other. You know what happens: the story inevitably changes. We hear differently; our vocabularies aren’t the same; and some of us “improve” the story with elements uniquely ours.
So it is with the good news of salvation. Popular variations include: “You are saved by obediently following Jesus,” or “Jesus fills the gap between your effort and the expectations of God’s law.” Even the apostle Paul—just 30 years after Jesus’ resurrection—complained of “a different gospel” (Gal 1:6) that followed close behind his preaching and teaching, aimed at pulling new believers back into the clutches of legalism.
That’s why Paul wrote what we must constantly re-read: “For 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). It takes great grace to not claim credit for what only Jesus could do. Our vanity insists that “God helps those who help themselves.” But the undiluted gospel still proclaims, “God proves His love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8).
Grace is the unimproved truth about how God saves us. There is no other gospel.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“I’m sorry for the tears,” he says with obvious embarrassment. “It’s just that I miss her so much.” He shields his eyes like the toddler he was 60 years ago, perhaps again imagining he can’t been seen behind his hands.
We have it as a social rule that anything so personal as tears must stay discreetly out of sight. Others feel uncomfortable, we think, imagining that even those who know us well expect us to be dry-eyed in the face of loss.
But tears and all that causes them are proof of life—of being fully human, blessed—yes blessed—with deep capacity to care, to feel, to love, to cherish. Our losses are no less a part of us than all our victories. Those who truly love us never struggle when we weep.
The shortest verse in all the Bible—“Jesus wept” (Jn 11:35)—gives us the longest view of who He is. “This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for he faced all of the same testings we do” (Heb 4:15). The prophet called Him a “man of sorrows, and acquainted with our grief” (Isa 53:3). He doesn’t only preach from mountaintops. He sits with those who grieve; holds those who weep; heals those who hurt.
Grace is for all moments—good and bad, happy and sad, celebrating or grieving. “I am with you always,” Jesus says, “even to the end of the world” (Matt 28:20).
Accept the company of One who never was afraid of tears. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We mean well when we offer theories of God’s grace. We say things like, “Grace is the application of the unlimited merits of Jesus to the unmeritorious lives of sinners.”
And then we actually wonder why millions of people don’t “get it.” Someone has reminded us that “good doctrine is only a description of a good relationship with God.” And it’s that relationship—that unwearied friendship between the Father and each of His children—that we need to keep talking about. Whether we are prodigal or homebound, there’s just “one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all” (Eph 4:6).
When angry words give way to kind silences, we hear grace. When vengeful plans yield to awkward reconciliations, we see grace. When broken, bitter people are day-by-day becoming healed and healing people, we live grace. When dread and guilt give way to joy and liberation, we feel grace.
Everything changes when grace arrives. The grace of God is more real, more solid, more substantial than our fear, or pain, or hate. There’s nothing abstract about it.
Put your whole weight on believing. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which is my sin, though it were done before?
Four hundred years ago, the poet John Donne wondered aloud whether God would actually forgive the wild, foolish choices he had made in his life.
In the last four days, at least half the people in the world have silently wondered the same thing. Can God—will God—actually erase the record of our anger, lust, and dishonesty? Or will those choices always drag behind us as painful reminders of our foolishness?
God’s promise for those who turn to Him is clear and categorical: “I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more” (Jer 31:34). The Father knows that we have doubts about His goodness, and so the Bible tells us, “If we confess our sins to God, He can always be trusted to forgive us and take our sins away” (I John 1:9). And just in case we need a visual reminder of His promise to repair our brokenness, we hear: “As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us” (Psa 103:12) .
There’s nothing more dependable than God’s promise to forgive your past. Trust His promise: experience His freedom.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
On some bright Tuesday when we’re feeling poised, benevolent and calm, we set our minds to finally forgive the one whose wrong we can’t forget. “It’s all an act of will,” we say—and so we try to unremember their insulting words; the money borrowed that never was returned; the way they turned their backs to be with finer friends.
And like all good intentions, it lasts an hour or two or even ten—until the insult twists again, or we are snubbed, or mocked, or cleaning up for them. Our righteous anger burns like bile, for now we have fresh evidence of malice.
The wellspring of forgiveness is the heart from which it starts. “Forgive one another, just as God forgave you because of what Christ has done” (Eph 4:32), the Scripture urges. We can’t forgive until we know—again—how much the Father has forgiven us—for all the insults to His grace; for how we misused gifts He gave; for when we turned our backs on Christ.
Only forgiven folk forgive. The grace we give is grace we have received: we make none by ourselves. “For by grace you have been saved through faith; and this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God” (Eph 2:8).
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We sift the ash of burnt-out days, and wonder why our faith seems hesitant, half-formed, not ready for the fray.
Where was our patience when the boss was overbearing? What happened to our pledge of gentleness when someone threw a verbal brick? Why didn’t self-control rise up and save us from temptation?
We want our virtues quickly: why can’t they grow like cultures in a Petri dish? But God’s Word teaches us that all good things need rain and sun; dark and day; bud and flower and long development.
“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” (Gal 5:22-23).
The finest fruit takes time to grow: there are no hothouse virtues. Our thinking and our living both mature as we accept the Spirit’s promptings in each day. Tomorrow will be sweeter than today. Our growth in grace will come in God’s good time.
“He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Phil 1:6).
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
It isn’t difficult to disappoint.
Expectations crowd around us. We’re reminded by sly colleagues of why we didn’t get the job; why our résumé is lacking; why no one trusts us with the ball. We rarely measure up to super-charged young climbers on the ladder of success, or those who spend long afternoons perfecting three-point shots.
Our mere mortality gets glares from those whose motto is Olympic: Faster; Higher; Stronger. Only winners need apply.
And often, on our poorer days, we wrongly think that God is disappointed with us too. In our imaginations, He stands for all who ever called us slow, or slack, or sinful.
In this, we always read Him wrong, for He has made His deep affection clear: “God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them” (2 Cor 5:19). “God showed His love to us. While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8).
We can’t hear these words too often. Grace never disappoints; does not withdraw; does not let go. Even when we get it wrong, we are the ones God always loves.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
When every tire we ride is losing air and going flat . . . When there are miles to go in this day’s marathon but never knees enough to make the finish line . . . We wonder why our race is all about endurance, and little about joy.
Ahead of us—some far ahead—are all the ones with bright and shiny faith—so sleek, so well-equipped, so sure. And we imagine this is how they always race because of gifts not given us. They breathe the air of heaven, so it seems, while we go panting in this smog of trouble and dejection.
But there is one who traveled all our roads, who knows the drama of flat tires, and remembers His own Heartbreak Hill. “This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for He faced all of the same testings we do, yet He did not sin” (Heb 4:15). And He is still content to travel at our pace. He knows that weariness and doubts don’t ever mean we are disqualified.
For “the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to the skillful” (Eccl 9:11).
Grace travels with us when we ride, or run, or walk, or crawl. There is no stretch of road on which we ever are alone.
So stay with grace. -Bill Knott
When our last star has flickered out;
When our last square of daylight Has been canceled by the rolling of a stone That crushes everything our hope had built, We grieve like those deceived. We huddle with our frightened peers, And wonder just how long a man must walk To get back to his fishing boat, Or why Emmaus seems so far.
Embarrassed, tortured not with nails but doubts, We sabbath with no rest, our minds a fright house Of unscripted dreads. If we could wake the dead, we would— Call life back to the silent lips, the pale hands— As we had watched Him do. But there is grief, and there is fear, The burnt-out moons of this dark night.
And yet, beneath the hill, behind the stone, Life stirs in answer to a Father’s call. And He who made the rock Some laborer had shaped to close His tomb Steps out, reclothes Himself with His abundant life And strides forth like the sun at noon.
This day is more than we had dared to dream, But everything we need. Dawn does not break: it builds with rays unstoppable Until all shadows disappear. He has risen. Grace still rises. We will rise. -Bill Knott
There is no life without its wounds.
We spend our decades battling others, trading insults, feeling used by those more powerful or proud. First our knees and then our hearts get scraped by this tough, bruising sport of life. When we aren’t fighting to defend ourselves, we’re putting bandages on wounds that no one else can see.
The scars, the tight-lipped bitterness, teach all the worst of lessons: that no one can be fully trusted; that evil lurks behind each smile. We watch the grim parade of former heroes now reduced to injured, hurting souls like us.
But there is one whose wounds bring healing to us all. In all our broken, lacerated past, just one man drained the bitter cup, felt sorrow rip His heart apart—and still, somehow, remained the joyous, hopeful Saviour He was meant to be. Beaten, cursed, condemned and killed, Jesus never lost the love He lived.
“He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5).
His story doesn’t end with pain, for He broke through our woundedness one cool, spring, life-affirming dawn. The morning—ours; the healing—ours; His resurrection—what’s in store for us.
Choose healing now. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Can you change your everafter by the good things you do now?
Millions all around the world believe it. Tens of billions--dollars, euros, rubles, yuan—are given every year by those who earnestly believe their gifts improve their odds of getting into heaven.
Massive projects are begun; hospitals are long-endowed; homeless veterans at the corner get twenty dollar bills. Other light their hopeful candles, fast twice a week, and even cause their bodies pain in hopes the Father will relent.
Since everything must have a price, where do we buy our everafter tickets?
But heaven never was endowed, nor can we own a single brick on streets bright-paved with gold. “For 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).
Our only claim on heaven is the Father’s great affection for us. You’ve heard the line so many times: this time hear it clearly. “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).
In God’s wise and gracious plan, kindness flows from those who have received His gift, not as a way to earn it. Accept God’s gift before you give your own.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
What if, when we were wrong, the response was thoughtful listening and respect?
What if, when tempers snap, we were quick-wrapped in gentle joy?
What if, when we confessed our pride, we were embraced by those who deeply know their brokenness—included, freed, forgiven?
Why, this would be a heaven on this earth—a place where healing flourishes and misspent lives can be made whole. This is where we’d spend our time—among the ones who make us know we’re safe, accepted, and renewed.
Among such people, we could grow. We’d soon discover we no longer need the weapons of our war. If we can be mistaken and yet fully loved, we’ll rapidly repent of all the wasted time we spend defending our depletions.
These people will become our sanctuary, our church—with or without a building built of brick and glass. This will be the Holy Spirit’s home.
This is the house that grace builds—a living room, a rented hall, a steepled church where Welcome Ave meets Freedom Street.
So meet me where forgiven folk still joyously forgive.
And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
Before we even learned to count, we learned the way the world works.
We did “good” things: we picked up toys; ate all our pears; and gave the cat his needed space—and we were praised. Our value was affirmed.
We did “bad” things: we fought with siblings; refused to take a needed bath; threw tantrums on the kitchen floor—and we were criticized, less loved.
The love we knew was often a transaction: for doing X, we could get Y. And when we took up jobs and cash, the lesson only deepened: value gotten meant value given.
And then we heard a strange, new thing: Jesus overturned the economy of value, just as He overturned the tables of the merchants. We are loved, the Father says, before we ever did good things, and even when we do bad things. “God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8).
So constant is His matchless care we never leave the orbit of His love. “This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1 John 4:10).
Here is the gospel of new value: we are loved because God loves, and not for what we offer Him.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We want the verdict we can’t have—to be both right and righteous; to win each argument on points, and yet be counted blameless.
But something in our quest to win undoes our fleeting grip on grace. “Love is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs,” (1 Cor 13: 5) the Bible says—and still we keep a tally sheet of wounds we’re waiting to avenge. We chase a kite tail in the wind to fix what gossip has besmirched, convinced that what we call the “truth” is ultimately more prized than love.
But only God can get it right. Only a wise and gracious Father can be both “just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus” (Rom 3:26). “He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5).
The goodness of the gospel is not getting what we’ve earned. For there is One who took our lies, our lust, our longing to be right and washed them with His tears and blood. As grace replaces all our fantasies of justice for ourselves, we yield to the greater truth: “The Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all” (Isaiah 53:6).
It is enough if only Christ is right, and through His grace declares us whole.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
We breakfast on the crusts of aging self-help theories. “Believe, believe in who you are,” we mutter as we face another thin and hungry dawn.
By lunch, we are negotiating losses, trying hard to still believe that “We are wise, and we are warm, and we are kind.” But conflicts with our colleagues and chasing three-year-olds around a house belie the bromides and bravura.
At supper, we go searching for our comfort food, the self-indulgent set-aside of all that didn’t work that day. “No one could have expected more of me than me,” we chant. Our sins were only foolish calories—not consequential, easy to explain.
There is, no doubt, a better way. The gospel taught by Jesus doesn’t ask us to think better of ourselves or imagine qualities that never have appeared. “God shows His love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us,” (Rom 5:8) the Bible says. “This is real love—not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins” (1 Jn 4:10).
Grace builds our confidence in everything God gives. “I am the bread of life,” Jesus says. “Whoever comes to me will never be hungry again” (Jn 6:35).
This is the manna for each day—“not I, but Christ.”
Trust what He gives. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The storyline is so familiar now. A kindly grandfather in some quiet town is found to be a gangster living under an assumed identity. A civic leader loses her elected role when her history is revealed behind a different name. We shake the dust off polished shoes in not-so-righteous indignation, for we prize honesty, we say.
And yet, we know this story well. Before we learned to count or read, the orbit of our life was willful, proud, and self-involved. To these we added faults we chose—the cruelties of school playgrounds; the teenaged gossip that cut worse than any knife; the damage done our bodies and our minds through substances and time ill-spent. Our failures ran much faster than our years.
And then, one day, the Father offered us a new and strange identity: forgiven sinner; healed outcast; prodigal brought home. He wouldn’t let us take a lesser role, but righteously insisted we accept our place as sons and daughters deeply loved.
So now we live with this assumed identity, and struggle with the Father’s robe we feel ineligible to wear. He is relentlessly insistent on this new life He’s given us: “Do not call something unclean if God has made it clean” (Acts 10:15).
To feel unworthy never means that we are unforgiven. Grace is the way we’re learning how to live within the Father’s house, enjoy His love, and welcome other prodigals back home.
Put on the awkward robe of grace. And stay in it. -Bill Knott
We’re no good at accepting gifts when we can offer nothing in return.
And so we wrestle for the restaurant bill, determined not to be obliged for what someone who loves us wants to pay. We writhe in proud embarrassment when gifted with a sum so large we fear we’ll lose our freedom to decide, to regulate, to choose.
We’re willing to be thankful so long as there’s no lingering commitment: we’ve traded Christmas cards and dinners. Our scores must all be evened, and all accounts be balanced.
And then the Father overwhelms us with impossibly good news—a flood of undeserved and unrequited kindness for which there’s not a payment plan: “In Christ we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace that He lavished on us” (Eph 1:7).
There’s no way we can work if off: there’s no amount of painful, legal rectitude that ever can resolve our debt. God’s grace confronts us with a gift so great that we at last give up on ever evening the score. We learn to live as loved and liberated souls, and one day even revel in “the immeasurable riches of His grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus” (Eph 2:7).
Receive the gift from God’s great heart. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
REASSURING RHYTHMS
When do we offer reassuring words? Whenever there is fear, perplexity or pain. Our words rebuild the vital bridge connecting pain to hope, to peace, to continuity.
“Don’t worry, little one,” we soothe. “Daddy’s going to be right here until you go to sleep.”
“You’ll be just fine,” we tell the anxious student on the night before the test. “You’ve studied hard: you know this stuff.”
“You’re not alone,” we whisper to a saddened soul who cannot see beyond the terrible calamity of now.
In these, we faintly echo all the Father’s reassurances. He both anticipates our fear and moves to heal it with deep promises of connectedness and peace. In one short psalm, we hear the same phrase 26 amazing times: “His steadfast love endures forever” (Psalm 136:1). The rhythm of His reassurance rolls through history, time, and all our fears until the message of sustaining grace becomes embedded in our souls: “His steadfast love endures forever.”
The arms that hold us in our grief are here: “His steadfast love endures forever.” When we are lonely, we recall: “His steadfast love endures forever.” When conflicts, large and small, besiege our lives, and we can hardly summon hope—“His steadfast love endures forever.”
Grace is the story of God’s endless and unbroken love. At every turn; in every hurt; when joy arrives; when hope renews—“His steadfast love endures forever.”
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
RECLAIMING OUR IDENTITY
“Who do you think you are?” the bully thundered, and we shrank back into some smaller self that could more easily escape or hide.
“Who do you think you are?” the college entrance essay asked, and we explained we were the product of suburban schools, or immigrants, or persons trying on new cultures. “I am a daughter; an orphan; a member of a racially exploited group.”
“Who do you think you are?” the counselor gently queried us, and we described our brokenness, our loss of self, our pain, to someone whom we paid to listen to our stories.
“Who do you think you are?” the Father asks. And how He smiles when we respond with joy and laughter shining in our eyes—“I am the prodigal come home. I am a son, a daughter of Your love. I am the one You never take your eyes off—even when I played the rogue, or spent Your wealth, or claimed I never knew You.”
“I am the child You pledge to always love. And even when I get it wrong, I feel Your grace, Your kindness, Your forgiveness.”
“God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Much more then, having now been justified by His blood, we shall be saved from wrath through Him” (Rom 5:8-9).
You cannot earn the Father’s love. You cannot lose the Father’s love.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
LOVE THAT WON’T LET GO
When dreams of bright success have stumbled on the hard edge of reality . . . When every scheme for fame or followers has left the needle where it was . . . When all the crowd who live for now have gone on dancing down the boulevard—just then we learn the value of the love that won’t let go.
It’s father in the driveway saying softly as we pack, “You can come home again.” A colleague asks us on the elevator ride, “Are you OK? When would you like to talk?” A high school friend calls from a time zone far away to say, “I pray for you each day. What do you need just now?”
We learn the ceaseless grace of God from people still receiving grace. Their patience—their persistence—through the twists of all our wandering give substance to the truth we read in Scripture: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end” (Lam 3:22). From heart to heart and hand to hand, we practice love that rescues us.
And one day soon, we will be saying to some other soul—“What do you need just now?” “When would you like to talk?” “You can come home again.”
The grace we share is grace we’ve learned. The kindness never stops with us.
So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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At every rounding of the year, we realize how much we need renewal. On New Year’s Eve, we want to slam the door on the departing year, or banish memories of 2020’s pain and grief. But there are—and must be—great ties between the old year and the new.
We live in the same bodies: we inhabit the same homes. We remain related to the same family: we work at the same jobs. We worship with the same believers: we study the same Word.
It’s renewal, then, and not a clean break from the past, that offers us our greatest hope in 2021. How can our bodies be renewed? Will this year be the one when we’re transformed by the renewing of our minds? (Rom 12:2). How does a weary marriage find new sources of resilience and of laughter? Can dry and broken friendships be restored? We crave the ageless source of all renewal—the grace and mercy of our Lord revealed in the pages of His Word.
Yes, grace renews what grace began. “That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever!” (2 Cor 4:16-17).
So here’s to growing deeper, stronger, wiser, kinder in 2021. Stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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This painful year has made us clear on what we want for Christmas. Though Lexus and Mercedes-Benz are sure we want a gleaming ride with giant ribbons on the roof, we have no miles we want to drive. The ads all tease us with dark fantasies on Amazon or Netflix, but we still have our darkness to get through. The tech toys that we bought for sport have only one compelling use this year.
We want each other more than gifts. We want the long and lingering embrace of two-year olds who won’t let go; the bear hug from a distant friend; the real gatherings of real folk around a tree, a table, or a fire. We want the laughter never muted, carols sung by families on nights no longer silent. We want the deep security we find in holding, playing, eating with the ones we love in places we call home.
So Christ came down because He couldn’t bear the breach of space; the distance numbered in light-years; the loving words half-understood. He came to us in helplessness so we might know He needed love—our love, the warmth for which He fashioned us. He laid aside His rulership so that a two-year old could grip Him tight; a mother’s tears could turn to joy, and bitter, broken men could heal. He came to make the lepers dance; to be the face the blind first saw; to hear the deaf sing harmony.
His joy is us: we are the only gift He wants.
Accept the grip of His embrace. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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Electric icicles are draped from eaves that never have seen snow. Inflatables, some 10 feet tall, loom high above synthetic reindeer, grazing on front lawns. Mythical figures never known in Bethlehem crowd close to dash away whatever pain may linger in the story. Back-lit Nativity scenes help us believe that everything that night was just as festive, clean, and comfortable as all the stuff by which we annually remember it. But it was painful to be Joseph—much harder still to be Mary—when none were welcoming and no inn had a room. The irony was palpable and blunt: “He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him,” the Gospel says (Jn 1:11). Royal lineage did not protect Him. Creatorship gave Him no sweet advantages. The wealthy and the powerful were threatened, not elated, by His birth. All that the principalities and powers could do was summoned to make His entry random, painful, and forgettable. But heaven had—and heaven has—a beautiful and gracious plan. For every time we sing a carol, or read the story, or tell a child, we push the darkness back a bit. “I am the light of the world,” Jesus says. “Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness” (Jn 8:12). The grace He gives, the life He beckons us to live, “is like the light of dawn, which shines brighter and brighter until full day” (Prov 4:18). Keep singing now: the light will grow. Decide to tell the story. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
The story brims with contrasts and disparities, and yet we tell it year by year. We meet an emperor, and then, at last, a baby. We hear of wealth, taxation, and deep poverty. We marvel at the gap between an iron power and abject, fragile weakness. The One who roamed the far-flung galaxies created by His word lies helpless in a trough from which farm animals are fed. Brilliant, iridescent angels terrify poor shepherds, who abandon pregnant ewes to gather ‘round the only Lamb who could deliver them. Unlearned and voiceless laborers at the bottom of the ladder are tasked with sharing the first good news the world had heard in centuries. And for all this, the story is ever new and never finished. We know this story—we tell this story—because it is, somehow, the tale of our lives. We know the clash of expectations and realities; of hopes held high and lives lived low; of failures, weakness, joy and pain. And so this birth is like every other birth, and like none that ever has occurred. “What has come into being in Him was life, and the life was the light of all people” (Jn 1:4). Grace came to live with us—to change the ending of our stories. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (Jn 1:5). So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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The soloist soars high above the massive, harmonizing choir: “O holy night, the stars are brightly shining.” But on that night, no soul on earth expected anything but normal. We drape the story of His birth with yards of gauze and billowy bright angels. We estimate a gentleness His weary parents never knew. We decorate the landscape of our Christmas with smiling sheep and camels trudging from the East. And we forget how hard it is to live beside—among—farm animals in fields or in stables. We ring a halo ‘round a birth that felt—that hurt—like any other birth, for there was nothing to relieve His mother’s pain except, perhaps, the wise words of a midwife and the prayers of worried Joseph. Truth is, the grace of God, the Word made Flesh, took pains to enter all our commonness, our struggle and our dirt, so all who live below the line would see Him as their Saviour, too. Grace never was afraid of dirt—not then, not now, not ever—whether in a musty stable or in a haggard heart. Our pain, our sin, our guilt, our shame—these are the things He gladly wore as surely as those swaddling clothes. He was, He is, Immanuel—God with us; God one of us; God for us. So come, let us adore Him. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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“If you would tell me, tell me true,” a wise old man once said. “There isn’t time enough for lies.” And when we’ve polished all our trophies, and sung again our victory songs, we come at last to stories too painful to be false. Each honest story unwraps our wounds, our hurts—as well as those we’ve given. We grieve the loved ones whom we’ve lost—a spouse; a friend; a much-loved child—though some of them still live and breathe. We mourn the loss of innocence; we’ve soaked up toxic sums of greed. We laugh at violence and war; we cheer for “heroes” who display our poorest human qualities. We feel the sadness for what’s never fixed or mended or repaired. And so it’s not an accident that we know more of Jesus as a healer than any other role. He stepped into the broken story of our world with grace that made the lepers dance and unlocked tongues that never spoke. He gave the parents back lost children; He cast out evil spirits and refashioned sin-sick attitudes. He told us of a Father who kindly waits for us to finish playing prodigal. And when He died to heal us of our greatest hurt, He took our pain and made it His. “He was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the punishment that made us whole, and by His bruises we are healed” (Isa 53:5-6). The good news is that grace still heals. It closes wounds; it soothes our scars. And someday soon, it leads us home. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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“She was very gracious in accepting my apology,” we say with heartfelt admiration. “He gave a very gracious speech in light of the circumstances,” we add, aware he could have done differently. Our common references to grace reveal we most always link it to “something that didn’t have to be done that way,” or someone who made a noble choice to rise above the normal human lust for power, wealth, or influence. Grace is always a choice, even in difficult, vexing moments. And there we find a useful definition of God’s gracious acts toward us: they are always somethings He was never obligated to do. It was it is—a choice, a principled, character-driven, even painful decision to offer us His love and His forgiveness. Even when we spat on His Son, and beat Him badly, and laughed at His extremity, and mocked Him as He died. If God were not gracious, all who have ever lived would be doomed. “For there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom 3:23). But grace is real; forgiveness happens, and broken lives are made brand-new. In every hour—on every day—the Father offers the mercy we will neither merit nor deserve. And all for the deep satisfaction He receives of seeing us embraced and welcomed into the kingdom of His Son. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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We crouch behind our walls and fences, readying ourselves for what we’ve learned to fear. We lock all doors, secure the bars. We mentally rehearse our steps, our routes. We twitch at unfamiliar sounds, lie wide awake when branches scrape the roof, and wait for light and morning. Whoever is not us is “other”—a nameless, faceless “stranger” we assume means only harm. “They” are the people unlike us—of different race, perhaps; or language, habits, customs, faiths. We crave the time machine that takes us back to comfort as we knew it. But grace is so remarkably persistent that even locks and fears cannot deter how it reshapes our thinking. When you discover—at long last—that you were “other” to the Lord—that you were threatening to His kingdom, a rebel to His law and rule, and damaging the world with your hostility and hate. And still He loved—still welcomed you into His house, and gave you keys to all the property. He trusted you before you knew you could be trusted; offered you forgiveness—yes—for sins not yet repented of. We were embraced before we even tried to love. “God proves His love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us” (Rom 5:18). So grace remakes our way of seeing those we used to fear—takes down our walls brick after brick—until we learn that difference is a source of joy, that “other” can be “brother,” “sister” “neighbor,” “friend.” The great unlearning has begun. Now stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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If there’s a mountain anywhere to climb, we scale it. If there’s a chasm some say can’t be spanned, we find a way to bridge it. When we demand a new frontier, we harness all the ingenuity we have to launch deep probes of planets, moons and suns. But there’s one goal we’ll never rise to conquer—how to reconcile a sinner to the Father. Nothing in our repertoire responds to this persistent challenge. Effort will not make it happen; wisdom won’t achieve the goal. Diligence and ritual won’t bring the heavens closer. Only from the heart of God could answers come that heal the world, atone for our disaster and disgrace, and offer us a future far beyond the galaxy. Only He who came from God to walk with us, and feel our pain, and mend our brokenness can do the hardest thing that ever was. “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth” (Jn 1:14). Grace came down, and grace abides. And only grace will lead us home. Rejoice in love’s magnificent reality. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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“John 3:16,” the hand-lettered poster reads, and we imagine some sharp zealot who bought a stadium endzone seat to get his message out to millions on TV. “John 3:16,” the spattered license plate declares, as we idle in traffic and ponder why some driver would request those letters and those numbers for his car. “John 3:16,” the understated business card asserts, as we turn over all the notes and papers of our day. These characters—four letters and two numbers—spell out the code of grace. They stand for truths so grand and baffling that we need everyday reminders: “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16). God loves us unimaginably. God gave us Jesus unhesitatingly. God welcomes us unendingly. Grace is the boldest, most audacious thing this broken world has ever heard—so startling we are stark amazed that it could possibly be true. It’s not the fate that we expected. It’s not the verdict we deserved. But it’s the gift that God’s deep heart of love still offers us—on any day, in any place. So paint it somewhere on the walls of your life. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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There’s nothing quite as satisfying—or as dangerous—as the certainty that we are right and someone else is wrong. We relish those rare moments of rightness because they wrap us in an unaccustomed virtue, as though we suddenly were several inches taller. Should we be sharp in underlining their mistake, or should we play it cool—and let embarrassment be the bitter aftertaste for those who got it wrong? We toy with power as cats abuse their mice. But there’s another, better way to be both right and righteous. “Above all, love each other deeply,” the Bible says, “because love covers over a multitude of sins” (1 Peter 4:8). The grace that blotted out our sins—that made us whole—is grace available to give when others fail. In fact, we show our gratitude for grace by offering it to those who have no place to hide, who wither in the judgment of their peers. Grace isn’t fully part of us until it is re-given. We learn much more of mercy when we’re merciful to those—like us—who don’t deserve forgiveness. “Freely you have received; freely give,” Jesus says (Matt 10:8). And in the giving, we discover our true size as sinners wrapped in grace. Regift the grace that’s given you. And stay in it. -Bill Knott
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When we were kids, each walk became a race; each math assignment launched a competition; every recital was a place to prove our mastery. Half of us, on any day, were losers of some kind—in the race to the mailbox; in the quest to get the better grade; in the hope to have one shining moment when we were proclaimed the best. And so we arrive at mid-life with a shelf half-full of trophies and an aching sense that we have lost more than some rounds of golf and afternoons of tennis. We spend the first half of our lives turning friends into competitors, and spend the last half trying to reverse that process. Winning may be everything, but everything on many days can feel remarkably like nothing. Grace offers us a different way—a way to run with others, not against them; a way to play for joy and not for triumph. There are no losers in this race, except for those who will not enter. The apostle Paul, as tough a man as ever walked the planet, reminded us how all may share the final victory: “I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for His appearing.” Grace crowds the finish line with millions of co-winners. And the Lord, who judges everyone, is delighted with the outcome. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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Someone has said, “Guilt is the great equalizer of the world.” Whether we are leaders in society or live quietly out of sight, we know the deep and inescapable voice of conscience, calling us to account for things everybody knows, and things nobody knows. Beneath our calm exteriors, we struggle with ourselves for missing the mark, breaking the law, violating the expectations God has of us, and we have of ourselves. Unless we bring our guilt to God, it leads to countless dangerous behaviors. We multiply offenses, hoping to somehow numb our sense of being misaligned. We turn our guilt to anger—at others, at situations, at ourselves. We try to find hard ways to work our way back into favor by doing deeds of charity, reciting familiar prayers, and demanding tough discipline of ourselves. But there’s only one way back to God, and it’s open, free, available on any day—for any fault. “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 Jn 1:9). In grace, the Father teaches us to trust the only one who never wavered in His faith, never felt a pang of conscience, never needed atonement for Himself. “God was reconciling the world to Himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them” (2 Cor 5:19). Guilt never was a match for grace, and never, ever will be. “To all who received Him, who believed in His name, He gave power to become children of God” (Jn 1:12). Trade all your guilt for matchless grace. And stay in it. -Bill Knott
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When all the sermons have been heard; when all the books have been re-shelved; when every scholarly debate about who He was has faded into dry obscurity, we still have stories that persuade us Jesus understands our inconsistent, bungled lives. He ate with people just like us—from Pharisees to prostitutes. He lavished time on fishermen and mothers. He played with little kids, insisting they should be protected. He welcomed wealthy men to poverty, and told the poor that they were honored in His kingdom. He brought new hope—and life—to grieving families, and held the very ones His culture had rejected. He fed great crowds, and ministered His grace in deeply private moments. We love these stories in those times when what we call our faith seems distant or uncertain. We are the lepers being touched; the wounded ones who reach for healing; the lonely who would gladly spend an hour with Him. When storms break on our boat, we need a Captain, not a theorist. We need that Voice that still speaks peace to waves of worry, and brings us back to terra firma—safe and sound, and saved. There’s grace in every gospel story, including yours. “For the grace of God has appeared that offers salvation to all people” (Tit 2:11). Find your story; find your place. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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Some pundits claim the future will be owned by clothiers and cosmeticians, for they know what it takes to make us feel momentarily good about ourselves. In a world mad-obsessed with self-presentation, humans take 35 billion selfies a year, choosing only ones that get the eyebrows tweezed, the lighting kind, the stubble on the beard just right. Ten thousand clothing companies regale us with images designed to help us hide our flaws and showcase youthfulness, our grasp of trends, and mimic what our cultural idols are wearing. But the hardest picture we will take is the candid selfie of our souls—the one we never show to others. Beneath the liners and the layers, behind the tints and overstated plaids, we know the real picture—the place where there are wrinkles on the heart; where tears erase what we have carefully composed. Will I be loved? Is there a purpose to my life? Will someone walk with me through illness, grief, and setbacks on the job? The grace of God sees deeper than our posing—and chooses us just as we are. The Bible says, “The Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Sam 16:7). Our flaws, our sins, our brokenness do not deter Him: He knows we are “wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked” (Rev 3:17)—and yet Christ holds us with an everlasting love that won’t give up, that won’t let go. Share all the outtakes of your life with Him. And stay in grace.
-Bill Knott
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We always celebrate first moments, and gladly so—the day that we were born (and every year thereafter!); first day of school; first day at a new job; the day we gave our brokenness to Jesus. These launching points are how we start our stories: everything unfolds from how it all began. But only one day in 365 can be a birthday, and starting school was just the easy part. We learn, in time, the difference between the starting and staying—between beginning and becoming. Thousands of uncelebrated days make up each life, including lives of faith. Remember just as clearly as you can the day you gave your life to Jesus—the day when you responded to His grace and felt the liberating power of sins forgiven, pasts redeemed, and hopes relit. But then go on to see how staying with the Saviour changes all the ordinary hours when nothing glamorous is happening. Does Christ sit with you in the tedium of work, or pace the hallways of your house when little ones need comfort? Does Jesus walk the twisting roads where school and job and money intersect—beside you, near you, even when you’re anxious? The grace once given is still given—day by day, hour by hour, for Jesus is more focused on the journey than on how it all began. “My grace is sufficient for you,” He says, “for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor 12:19). It’s in the low points of the road, where darkness reigns and doubts are raining that we learn to trust the promise He still makes: “I am with you always, even to the end of the world” (Matt 28:20). Trust the traveling with Jesus. And stay in grace.
-Bill Knott
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A favorite story never grows old. Years later, we still savor words we loved before we even learned to read. The lullaby that someone sang to us is what we sing to fretful children needing sleep. A fragment of a childish prayer stays with us—yes, stays in us—and we whisper it in moments when we’re short on comfort, certainty, or strength. The best things always bear repeating: we never really understand them till they rise in all those “times within the times”—those empty moments when our hearts seek healing, grace, companionship. And so we need to hear the gospel day by day—not only once when God announced our rescue, or on the weekend when we hear a preacher tell us why it’s true. We can’t ever get enough of knowing that we’re loved beyond all measure; held within the Father’s arms; rescued from our past and shame; and pointed to a future filled with joy. “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” (Jn 3:16). So speak of grace until the story is your own—so much a part of who you are that you can’t be distinguished from it—until you know, beneath all else, that “nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 8:39). Re-tell what love has done for you. And stay in grace.
-Bill Knott
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There’s nothing harder than humility, and nothing we need more. But “Jesus poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around Him” (Jn 13:5). It’s still the virtue we want least, for pride—our pride—both subtle and overt, insists on ranking us to others, and even to believers. One loudly says, “I know Him better. Learn from me.” Another says, “I worship Him more truly. Listen when I sing.” A third says, “I love the world better than you do. Do what I do.” And so the basin sits unfilled, the towel dry. We lecture, chide, and condescend because we will not kneel; we will not yield. We miss the keenest lesson of our lives when we insist on privilege and power, disguised as gifts and skills. We’re never more like Jesus—or with Jesus—than when we bow to all who bear His name—and to all who could, by grace, one day be His. The grace that saves us helps us find our knees. The entrance prayer to godly life has been the same for 20 centuries: “Be merciful to me, a sinner” (Luke 18:13). In brokenness, we serve the broken. In serving, we ourselves are served. In kindness, we recall how kind the Lord has been to us. So stay in grace.
-Bill Knott
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It usually begins with regret, the uncanny ability to recall—and cringe at—taunting words we said on playgrounds 40 years ago. And then, in night’s small hours when the clock is our companion and our jury, the list of sins remembered grows unbearably long. There is no prosecutor so cutting and so close as a human mind turned inward on itself. Cheating on a test or cheating on a spouse; angry words or angry deeds; vengeance taken or vengeance fervently desired—the catalog of all the things for which we’ve asked forgiveness a hundred, hundred times seems endless and unreconciled. Can God forgive what we remember with such terrible exactness? Is He more kind to us than we are to ourselves? The gospel couldn’t be clearer: “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 Jn 1:9). “As far as the east is from the west, so far He removes our transgressions from us” (Ps 103:12). “And by this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before Him whenever our hearts condemn us; for God is greater than our hearts, and He knows everything” (1 Jn 3:19-20). Grace is God’s answer to regret—His way of helping us forget what He has chosen to forget. When we trust His forgiving words more than our own accusing words, we find the quiet love provides. Believe His kind, redeeming promise. And stay in grace.
-Bill Knott
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The world is fragile—brittle—now, all hard-edged and reactive. One unsubstantiated rumor can send the markets reeling; provoke a hailstorm of hate; advance—or take down—whole careers before the dawn next breaks. We feel the clutch of ‘things not right’; we mourn the painful fractures to familiar rhythms that brought comfort, meaning, friendships, love. We fear there is no future we may call predictable, as though the world is reinvented every night. The pundits and the social prophets have retreated to their rooms, for who dares to be wrong when reputations hang on sound-bites? To our world, as once to his, the Apostle Paul’s great hymn to Jesus speaks meaning, strength, and clarity: “He Himself is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. . . . For in Him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through Him God was pleased to reconcile to Himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of His cross” (Col 1: 17, 19). The Lord who once created all that is now holds this world with unmatched love and lasting grip. When all things seem to fly apart, He holds. When chaos reigns and peace seems lost, He holds. When hearts are smeared with tears and fears, He holds. Oh yes! the spiritual was right: “He’s got the whole world in His hands.” Now trust the One who cannot fail. And stay in grace.
-Bill Knott
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And when the final day has come—when fears are past, and tears are dried—when we are gathered, glad and grateful—millions strong—to praise the Lord who died for us, will there be some unknowing soul so self-absorbed that he might say, “So where’s the credit for my deeds?’ “Absurd!” you say, and right you are, for we are either saved by grace or we are never saved at all. The good that love urged us do, the kindness shared from happy hearts, will seem as insignificant as grains of sands beside that sea that looks like glass. Our finest words will trail off to murmured “Hallelujahs.” Our anthems will boast one refrain: “Worthy, worthy is the Lamb that was slain.” Our sweat and strain deserves no mention, for Jesus “poured out himself to death, and was numbered with the transgressors; yet he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors” (Isa 53:12). The heart that’s filled with gratitude keeps no account of pains endured—or good deeds done. “Indeed I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord” (Phil 3:8). It’s just a privilege to walk with Him, to learn how grace was tailored to our need, to share the vast, abundant joy of breathing deep and feeling free. So pray for daily self-forgetfulness. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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There is no prosecutor or court who dares to bring against our souls the charges we know to be true. At worst, they see the grander crimes—the times when carelessly we broke the law or took what never could be ours. But in our hearts, we know a catalogue of faults so dark, so cold, that nothing less than warming grace could ever resurrect our hope. And so the work of God is always to speak peace to fearful souls. “Come now,” invites the Father of us all, “let us reason together . . . though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow” (Isa 1:18). “For God sent the Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through Him” (Jn 3:17). This is the good news—yes, the gospel—that we hardly dare to dream is true. There’s finally an answer to the deadly accurate indictment; the sentence that we’ve earned. Against the record of our sins we see the deep, unblemished holiness of Him who gladly offered He would bear the penalty for all we’ve done, would die the death that should be ours. “He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that made us whole, and with His stripes we are healed” (Isa 53.5). There’s just one exit from this courtroom—only one. “If anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous” (1 Jn 2:1). Embrace the offer grace provides. And stay in it. -Bill Knott
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If we took all our cues from culture and the wind, we would forgive another’s sin just to be rid of him and his unpleasantness. “Executive forgiveness” assumes that we should benefit from the transaction—that moving past our bitterness is the chief reason we forgive the one who wounded us. “Get over toxic feelings keeping you imprisoned,” a hundred self-help books inform us. “Discover liberation in forgiving those who injured you.” And like all harmful substitutes, there’s a gram of truth in what they say. One consequence of offering forgiveness is living forward—and not backward—for we find some joy in dropping all that baggage. But forgiveness as Jesus loved and lived it doesn’t count how we will feel when we forgive. Forgiveness is redeeming someone broken; freeing them from guilt and shame; offering them the chance to live restored and reconciled. It’s love, not self-esteem or self-protection, that makes us lift the load that’s crushing them. “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you” (Eph 4:32). Forgiveness moves us closer to the wounding ones, as Jesus always moves toward us when we are bitter, broken, acting out. It’s love that calls the prodigal back home, and grace that spreads a banquet of togetherness. Forgive as you have been forgiven. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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The ache in every life is change—change bitter, deadly attitudes; change toxic habits that destroy our health; change self-defeating fantasies of privilege and power. That ache has pushed uncounted millions to quick-fix themselves, clean up their act. How do I tame my tongue? When will I control unproductive—and unholy—thoughts? Can I forgive my enemies? How will I pull myself from all the easy, sleazy ruts I traveled in for years? And so we buy the self-help books; we make our lists. We scan the magazines and websites for ten tips to overcome our anger; six strategies to conquer lust; three things that will reduce our appetite for all things cheap and tawdry. Whole industries today depend on our obsessive quest to fix ourselves. Grace offers us a better way to change—a path so hopeful—yes, and joyful—we are deep-surprised at just how quick the progress comes in what we once thought unchangeable. Jesus said, “I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing” (Jn 15:4). When we attach ourselves to Him—when we cease focusing on failures and start growing with the only One who fixes all our pasts and futures—wonderful, amazing change begins. First sprouts, then flowers, then fruits appear: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Gal 5:22). Connect to Christ. And stay in grace.
-Bill Knott
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The day we lose our gratitude is when we learn how tough life is. Like three-year olds asserting self, we claim we don’t need help or guidance. “I’ll do it by myself,” we say, though what we are attempting is far harder than clean faces or shoelaces. And so we sally forth to fix what’s broken in our world and us. When friendships fray, we use our wits, and watch in sadness till they’re permanently lost. We climb the office steps, dismayed that we are out of breath from all the jockeying and gossip. Marriages creak forward toward gray photo anniversaries, remembering the days of laughter and of love. The missing piece is gratitude, and Someone to be grateful to. We didn’t gift ourselves with healthy life, protect ourselves from many woes, or build the circles that bring joy. These are the Father’s kindnesses, unfolding from a heart of grace. God gives because it’s in His heart to give. His grace is love applied to pain. “Lord, everything You have made will praise You. Those who belong to You will bless You” (Psa 145:10). Our gratitude is just the truth about the goodness of our God. Begin this day with grace-anointed lips: say “Thank you” ten—a hundred—times. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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“That’s unbelievable,” we say, by which we mean “surprising. “Incredible,” we gasp, when we should say “amazing.” But the good news of the Father’s love for us was meant to be believed—trusted, taken in, absorbed—even when it runs against the grain of all the hard-edged stories some have told of Him. While young in faith, our ears were sometimes filled with stories of an angry God, a frowning deity who took His vengeance out in hurricanes and settled scores with thunderstorms. By all accounts, this God was invariably upset with us—disappointed by the sadly predictable ways we failed to keep His law, reform our ways, and live to bring Him glory. And when the gospel of His grace first sounded in our hearts, it seemed a counter-narrative, as though describing some new God. But Jesus, image of the unseen Father, told us—showed us—what was always irrefutably true: “God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him” (John 3:17). Grace is the way God thinks of us. “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope” (Jer 29:11). Repent of any untrue view of Him. Believe the goodness of our God. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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Within the castle of our fears, inside the moat well-filled with pride, we wonder why this life we chose seems lonely and unhappy. Our citadel seems much more like a prison. We wanted strength, we said, so we built battlements and gates to keep our painful secrets safe. We rarely let the drawbridge down, for we have much to guard. But from the turret we can see a joyous life we long to live—a liberated life, well-filled with love, with kindly people laughing, caring, trusting and forgiving. Grace always builds for us communities of hope. It brings companions who, like us, once lived behind grim castle walls. We learn, in time, the undefended life, where broken people are made whole, where we admit how much we need the healing freely ours in Jesus. We trade our fears for faithful friends: we drain the moat; we plant peace lilies on the walls. “For freedom Christ has set us free” (Gal 5:1). And so we find the life we crave—where we are neither lonely in our sins nor alone in our salvation. The grace we’re given gradually becomes the grace we share with those still trapped behind dark castle walls. “Come down; come out,” we chorus at the stones. “Come live the shared, abundant life Christ promises to prisoners.” And all who do can stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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Our stories are distressingly familiar. We start each week, or each new day, with adamant intention: I will lose weight; I won’t lose patience with the kids; I’ll treat my colleagues kindly; I won’t waste hours surfing on the Web. And only hours or days later, we note the uptick on the scale; the strangely quiet children who endured our angry words; the whispering around the water cooler; the useless rantings of a hundred posts that only fenced us off from love. Our best intentions are like “ropes of sand.” Convinced by all those self-improvement books that mastery is within our grasp, we measure all the transient things that never plumb the depths of our true brokenness. There’s only one good work worth mentioning, according to the God who made us and redeemed us: “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent,” Jesus said, referring to Himself. When we admit our inability to makes ourselves leaner, kinder, wiser and more patient, we open up our lives to Him who says, “I am making all things new” (Rev 21:5). Our wholeness is the gift of grace: we cannot reach it by ourselves. If virtues ever grace our lives, it will be grace at work in us. Invite grace in, and give it room. And it will stay with you.
-Bill Knott
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We haven’t lived the same life stories, or even understood each other from the start. Our differences are many and profound. Our ancestors didn’t share the same small towns in Poland, Ghana, Mississippi or Nebraska. We didn’t attend the same schools; have similar access to good jobs; like the same food or music at our picnics; or experience equal pay—or equal justice. We hurt differently, but we know what pain is. We grieve our losses and celebrate our joys in ways uniquely meaningful to us. We may share faith, but not the same one. Our beliefs are often different. And yet we choose to walk together, trusting that the time we spend in listening and in telling will build trust, ease conflicts. We can share a kind and valued humanity as sons and daughters of a loving Father. “For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all” (Titus 2:12). The miles ahead are dusty and unknowable. And yet we choose, because of grace, to take the next step forward on the road. We trust the miles we share and stories we tell to lead us to God’s gracious destination. So walk with me, and let me learn from you. And we will stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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My story of grace starts with an admission I was wrong—lost, stubbornly resistant—and will be many times before my journey is complete. In the overarching narrative of grace, there’s only One who ever got it truly right—only One who both believed and lived perfectly. It was Jesus—not me—who never needed to apologize, or make amends, or ask forgiveness for a fault. And so the community that gathers around Him—the believers who follow Him wherever He goes—are men and women increasingly aware of their own brokenness. They know that every heart has corners where the Spirit doesn’t yet dwell—unredeemed attitudes, prejudices, rusting vats of bitterness. In grace, they bring these to the light where each may be identified, confessed, and yes, through grace forgiven. A legal religion, more committed to correctness than redemption, will always chase away the broken and the flawed, for they can never seem to measure up. But Jesus says to all discouraged by their deficits in holiness, ““Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavily burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:28). By grace, we can still build communities where apologies abound and forgiveness flourishes. The future of our healing starts today. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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The Biblical prophet Daniel, about whom no mistake is ever recorded, is found in the book that bears his name “confessing my sin and the sin of my people” (Daniel 9:20). This is how grace acts in times of national and international tragedy—not for “me and mine” but for “us and ours.” Grace doesn’t say, “It wasn’t my fault: I kept myself pure from disease,” or “I’m not responsible for the sins of my ancestors.” Grace moves us to accept responsibility for our neighbor’s faults and the bigotry we inherited from great-grandparents; to pray for the generational sins that have endured in every nation, tribe and people. In this, we begin to fulfill the Biblical counsel: “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (Gal 6:2) The heart renewed by grace is freed to admit responsibility even for mistakes transparently not its own in some specific, legal sense, for grace always moves toward the first person plural—to “we,” to “us,” to “ours.” As those bought by the blood of Jesus, we’ve come to realize that nothing human is foreign to us[1]: my neighbor’s sin might well be mine tomorrow. It’s our pride and ignorance makes us pray as the Pharisee in Jesus’ parable: “God, I thank you that I am not like other people” (Luke 18:11). Grace teaches us our place among the broken and the wounded. So, “Lord, teach us to pray.” And stay in grace. – Bill Knott
[1] Edward G. Robinson
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An old and wintry tale records a farmer’s frozen prayer: "God bless me and my wife, our son John and his wife--us four and no more. Amen." We smile, for we’ve known Christians who sometimes prayed like that. Sometimes we were those Christians. It’s in our nature to want good things for ourselves—and the grace and blessings of the Father are certainly good things. We spend our praying on the things we need—patience with our children; forgiveness for our wandering; stamina to get through one more week—or day. But it’s in the nature of God to give His blessings freely—to shower His grace on more than those who ask Him. “He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust” (Matt 5:45). And from our resurrected lives we pray for grace on those who least deserve it—the angry boss; the callous “ex”; the enemy whose joy is causing pain. Grace is an “all or nothing” virtue. If we’ve received it, we extend it. And we pray that other undeserving souls discover grace as well. Unclench your fists. Unfurl your heart. Pray widely now. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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Those who most need grace from us are those who see us at our best—and at our worst; the people who share houses, schools and cubicles with us. They sleep on the other side of the bed, or in the bedroom down the hall. They are the parents who seemed never to believe in us, or relatives who expect us to give endlessly. They work in the corner office, behind the counter, or any of a hundred places where expectations sometimes clash. They differ on food choices, paint colors, politics and faith. In short, they’re near enough to know if grace has left its mark on us, if gospel values of forgiveness and reconciliation really fill the spaces of our lives. They see the choices that we make—to hold our tongues; to apologize when needed; to not hold grudges; to release our claims on vengeance. And they measure our religion, not by creeds or preached theologies, but by the cold cloth on a feverish night, and the love that has no need to shame. Grace can’t be sought from everyone, but can be shared with anyone. “Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another” (1 Jn 4:11). “Put things in order, listen to my appeal, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you” (2 Cor 13:11). This is the sum of practical religion—adding grace, subtracting faults. Live the gentleness of Jesus. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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Those who fear that a rich embrace of grace always leads us to be careless about following Jesus only illustrate how fear distorts reality. Grace is not—nor ever was—permissiveness. In the center of the story, Jesus dies upon a cross—because the Father’s perfect law required every sinner’s death, or the death of the only One who could atone for them. Grace is not—now or ever—forgiveness without consequences. Lashed and beaten, Jesus bore the punishment we earned, the wages of our sin. “He was wounded for our transgressions; He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are healed” (Isa 53:5). Grace is not—nor ever will be—a declaration by the Father that rebellion doesn’t really matter. If nothing less than Jesus’ sacrifice could make us whole, trust me—no, trust Him: nothing matters more. It’s the deepest proof of the Father’s unfathomable affection for us that He whose law was terribly offended also offered us the way to be restored to Him. And it’s the greatest evidence of our sanity that we choose Jesus, healing, and renewal. Grace is what God says it is—love defeating brokenness. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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If red lights linger more than 60 seconds, we blame bureaucrats who don’t understand real-world traffic patterns. If checkout lines at the local market are 10 shoppers deep, we grumble at inattentive managers who make us needlessly wait. When wounds won’t heal and pain endures, we wonder why God doesn’t act as quickly as we need, or chooses not to intervene. We weren’t wired to wait, we say, even though each day, each week, requires we do more of it. It takes great grace to learn to wait. We’ve made our plans as though each traffic light will always be green, each errand will flow seamlessly, each scar will quickly disappear. We count the hours we spend waiting as something less than fully living—an exasperating gray zone between what we’ve imagined and when we think it should occur. But waiting well is time in grace, a window to reflect on God’s long, unfolding calendar where “in everything God works for good with those who love Him” (Rom 8:28). The same grace that waited patiently for us to come home, through all our sins and misadventures, now holds us as we wait the end of separation, loss, and pain. “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom” (Psa 90:12). Grace waits. And so do grace-filled people. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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An old—and unworkable—policy from the Chicago trainyards once declared: “When two engines approach each other on the same track, neither can move until the other moves first.” It reads like an all-too familiar description of what happens when we find ourselves in conflict with someone. We stay put; we sit tight. We wait for the other to make the first move toward apology or reconciliation. Just as soon as our wounded pride is soothed and our correctness underlined, we’ll become—we promise—the forgiving persons we’ve pledged to be. It’s marvelously fortunate for us that the Father doesn’t act that way—that He takes on Himself the responsibility for moving toward us when we’re stuck in shame and brokenness. “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). Grace always moves toward pain and guilt and bitterness. It doesn’t pause to grind in wrongs, or tally all infractions and offenses. It seeks the peace for which we were created, the friendship that’s infinitely more valuable than the sum of others’ failures. “Be kind to one another,” the Scripture says, “tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you” (Eph 4:32). And you will stay in grace. - Bill Knott
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On our best days, we just can’t save ourselves. And on our worst, the story is the same. When all our words are moderate and cheerful; when every deed is generous and sweet; when all our weaknesses recede, and all our strengths are trending up—we need God’s grace to save us from unholy satisfaction with ourselves. And when we’re stuck in bitterness and hurt; when we’ve got nothing good to say about ourselves or any of our peers; when we seem chained to old, destructive habits like prisoners to a wall—we need God’s grace to save us from dejection. The acts that save us all belong to Jesus. We offer nothing—deed or word, good or ill—that makes us more entitled to His love, or threatens His affection for the broken and the lost. “For there is no distinction,” the Word of God reminds us, “since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified by His grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (Rom 3:22). Remember now the great unchanging, undeterred, and undeserved love of Christ. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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Is grace, at heart, believable? ‘Of course,’ you say. Why not believe? It’s the noun that always follows “Amazing,” the tune the bagpipers skirl at dawn; the soaring hymn a tenor lifts into a vast cathedral. For some, it may be what the sermon is about, or what we learned in Bible class. But is grace believable at the baseline of our fears—in those tough places in the soul where shame and memory combust to make us cringe again, again? Does grace reach down below the intellect, the wonderful idea, and heal those wounds we so much never want to show the world? At its heart—and in our hearts—grace offers us what no one else is giving. Redemption is for real—for all those moments and those years we’ve blown it big and ruined all our future. “All we like sheep have gone astray. We’ve turned every one to his own way. And the Lord has laid on Him”—on Jesus, the only righteous one who ever lived—"the iniquity of us all” (Isa 53:6). It seems too good—too kind; too merciful—to be true. And so we linger in the half-light of our fears, humming a tune we dream might yet be ours. The hymn has outlived every copyright. God’s grace is clearly in the public domain. Make this song yours. And stay in grace. - Bill Knott
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These hours between midnight and dawn test the patience of the world. We stumble through the hallways of dark houses. We seek companionship in all-night TV channels and books that used to put us to sleep. We hide from pain or grief that won’t let us close our eyes. Why must dawn wait? Why must the hope of day stretch out so far away? If we could, we’d reach out and pull the first gray light of morning toward us–wrap ourselves in a little bit of hope and cheer. But dawn isn’t within our grasp. Only one man in all history could bring the morning. Just one man could rightfully claim, “I am the light of the world.” Only Jesus could split the prison where we were chained in shame with the marvelous good news of grace and pardon and power and peace. Only He could triumph over death and hell, because only He had experienced—and broken—their power. This hurting world of ours desperately needs the story of His resurrection. This dark planet, racked by war and ravaged by disease, cries out for the good news of that amazing sunrise. Morning has broken, and goodness has won. Celebrate the new life you’ve been given. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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We wouldn’t ridicule a child who said to us, “I’m really scared. Please hold my hand.” We wouldn’t taunt a hurricane survivor, “Snap out it. Get on with life.” Because we’re human, we know fear. Hurt and pain may come our way; events may spin beyond control; we could lose those that we can’t live without. When all the world is afraid, let’s honor those who own their fear with honesty. It is no sin to be afraid. The fault lies only when we let our fears erode what heaven says we owe each other—grace and truth and gentleness. There’s no just cause for hate or hoarding, prejudice or wounds. Our worry need not make us lose our wits. A hundred times the Bible says, “Don’t be afraid,” or as the better versions have it, “You can stop being afraid now.” There’s just one things that calms our fears—the truth that we aren’t left alone. “Peace I leave with you,” the Lord who calmed the storms declares. “My peace I give to you” (John 14:27). Wherever He is welcome, fear declines, then disappears. The grace that saves us also soothes us. Hear the voice above the storm. Take the hand still offered you. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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We were created for community, and nothing so upsets us as required isolation from the people who bring color, warmth, and hope into our lives. The world has quickly grown uncomfortably, unhappily too small. We huddle with our loved ones and thank God that we seem healthy. But each of us knows stories, now coming dangerously close, of illness, fear, and existential panic. Suddenly, we miss the colleague who so regularly annoyed us; the relative who made inconvenient, unannounced visits; the friendly patter when we met our neighbors in the market or the street. The sights and sounds, the rhythms and routines of life a month ago were oddly comforting when we could safely take them all for granted. And time—there seems to be too much of it; open, unplanned, unsure hours when thoughts turn endlessly to wondering: What if? What outcome? And what then? “I will never leave you nor forsake you,” the Father said to Israel (Josh 1:5). “Remember, I am with you always,” the Son promised His disciples. (Matt 28: 20). “You know Him,” Jesus said of the Spirit, “because He abides with you, and He will be in you” (John 14:17). Eternal love still holds us. There is no better company than Father, Son, and Spirit. Held and healed, warmed, enlightened, we can weather any crisis, any quandary, any virus. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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Hello, this Bill Knott from GraceNotes, with a message about trusting God’s grace in the coronavirus pandemic.
More than 60 times in the Bible, God tells believers to “Fear not.”
Just now, our world is full of fear—fear of an invisible virus that has driven mighty economies and great governments to their knees. Everywhere, the hearts of men and women are failing them for fear. But believers know that the grace of God is constant: we know the Lord who comes even closer when evil threatens us. The psalmist put it best:
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth be removed.”
Trust the love that never lets us go. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
“Lord, teach us to pray.”
The men who urged Jesus to educate them about prayer weren’t immature or novices. Each of them had prayed—in penitence; for safety; for a good night’s catch—as part of a life story that led them to careers in fishing, tax collecting, and even political activism. But they had heard from Jesus—from time in close with Jesus—a whole new way of praying, one that began with an entirely new view of God. Gone was the angry, frowning deity of their imaginations, the God who was always disappointed with them. For they had heard their Master call this God His “Father”—even “Daddy.” The grace they found in Jesus opened up a whole new way to pray. And they were hungry to know more, learn more, pray more. Grace made them passionate about prayer. So it will be with us. When we discover what has always been true—that we are loved and held as closely as a parent holds us; that we were truly, eagerly embraced before we had a righteous thought—we unclench our bodies and our minds. Our prayer becomes an easy, reverent conversation warmed by love, and all our fears diminish. The Father who loved this world so much that He gave Jesus to us (John 3:16) rejoices when we trust Him, welcome Him, and tell Him everything. Grace leads us first to gratitude, and gratitude to prayer. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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In desert canyons, ferns will flourish, sprouting from the bone-dry walls. None of them is kept alive by current rainfall: little ever reaches them. But rain that cooled the mesa 500 feet above 20 years ago seeps down through sedimentary rock to deliver needed moisture. The source is slow, no doubt, but savingly it keeps the green things growing. So it is with grace in us. The saving wrought by Jesus’ sacrifice began a flow that still is watering whatever’s dry in us. We may have been “saved” in a moment, but the slow water of deep holiness seeps down to the stony layers of relationships and attitudes and deserts we’ve never even hoped to water. One day, we give up grudges, half-surprising ourselves—and certainly surprising those who wounded us. Weeks later, we begin to reach beyond our comfort zone to love the unloved and the graceless. Our most important relationships—our friendships and our marriages—begin to shift: we hold our tongues; we listen more; we offer comfort where we once doled out our wit or scorn. The grace that saves us always changes us—sometimes at once; more often slowly,imperceptibly. This is as fully Jesus’ work as blazing, noonday turnarounds. “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Phil 1:6). Allow what’s dry to grow toward green. And stay in grace. -Bill Knott
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