“The grace of our Lord Jesus [His unmerited favor, His spiritual blessing, His profound mercy] be with you.” – 1 Cor. 16:23, AMP

John Newton once captained gory slave ships.

Years later, as a pastor, he wrote the popular hymn about a grace sweet enough to save “a wretch like me.”

The story is told that C. S. Lewis once walked into a conference where scholars were debating what Christianity offers that other religions do not.

He listened, then said, “Oh, that’s easy. It’s grace.”

In most faiths, standing before God must be earned. Here alone, it is given.

Paul understood this better than anyone.

He uses the Greek word charis, grace, about a hundred times across his letters, and he opens and closes them with it.

Every theological argument between the opening and the closing is meant to be read in its light.

Consider Corinth.

The church there was split into factions, tolerated open immorality, turned worship into a contest, and doubted the resurrection itself.

It was a messy church.

Paul’s first letter to them is sixteen chapters of a combination of frank rebuke and correction.

You might expect it to end with a final warning against sinful living.

Instead he writes in his own handwriting, “The grace of our Lord Jesus be with you.”

Paul knew that Corinth’s trouble was never solved by better performance.

May the unearned favor of our Lord Jesus Christ guard your heart against weariness, steady your steps against drifting, and hold you fast this week.

What they needed was the risen Lord, who had promised at the start of the letter to keep them “guiltless” to the end.

Grace forgave their past, and it also carried them forward.

It gave them strength to pursue holiness, mend their divisions, and use their gifts for others.

We are Corinth’s heirs.

We have our factions, our polished public image, our private compromises.

Many of us are worn out from trying to earn what was always a gift.

Others have quietly stopped believing they could be forgiven at all.

The world has taught us that acceptance follows achievement, so when we feel weak or guilty, we retreat or work harder.

Paul offers another word, the one the Lord gave him: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Grace meets us exactly where our competence ends.

Living in that grace changes a person.

It kills pride, because if my standing rests on God’s mercy, I have nothing to boast about.

It also changes how I treat others.

Having been forgiven beyond measure, I can accept you with your imperfections and forgive as I have been forgiven and accepted.

And far from making us careless, real grace produces the fruit of the Spirit, a willing obedience that comes from gratitude rather than fear.

This week, start each morning by saying aloud that, because of Christ, you are accepted as a child in God’s household.

When someone wrongs you, forgive freely, even when it costs you.

Think of one person you have been withholding grace from, and go to them.

Stop listing your accomplishments in prayer and in conversation.

They were never what held you up.

But do not mistake grace for permission.

Paul saw that objection coming: “Shall we continue in sin so that grace may increase? By no means!”

Grace that forgives also frees.

If you are excusing a habit, a bitterness, or a dishonesty because “God is gracious,” you are not resting in grace.

You are abusing it.

Confess it, leave it behind, and ask for help.

The grace that saved you is the same grace that will change you.

Just before his closing blessing, Paul writes one more word: Maranatha, “Lord, come.”

Until he does, the final word over you, and over this church, is grace.

May the unearned favor of our Lord Jesus Christ guard your heart against weariness, steady your steps against drifting, and hold you fast this week.

Amen.