Do you know the story of the prodigal son? The one where a father loses one son for a number of years, and his eldest says with him. Yet when the younger son, who has behaved recklessly returns, the father gives him the party and celebrates his return?
I always sympathized wit the older brother in that story. He had done it all right! He deserved the party! I felt like I knew him. The rule follower. The good kid. Under-appreciated and overlooked.
I loved law. I loved the rules. It was black and white. Good and bad. And yet, when we divide it so starkly-we all fall on the side of bad. We've all screwed up. I just thought my version of screwed up was the best. And yet, what I've come to learn is just different. I'm no better than a man who cheats on his wife. I'm no better than an alcoholic. It's all sin. I sin differently-but we are all in just as much desperate need of grace as the other.
I had just allowed myself to believe that I could negate my sin by living under the law. And that grace was for those who were desperate. Law teaches us we don't have to be desperate for grace. We've almost got it--just with a little more work.