The one concept that progressively travels throughout the entire Bible is the notion of grace. It continues to gain momentum until it overflows from the heart of the gospel message. As Bryan Chappell aptly states, “Grace does not spring up like a surprise jack-in-the-box in the New Testament.” It has been there all along.

If a church achieves nothing else, it should be a place that thrives on grace. And those who follow Jesus should be working to make more space for grace.

Grace is more than a church word. It is the word that distinguishes Christianity from every other religious system in the world. Grace does not begin with human effort or moral achievement; it begins with God’s generosity. As the apostle Paul reminds us, “To each one of us grace has been given as Christ apportioned it” (Ephesians 4:7).

If we are serious about following Jesus, then we must be serious about making more space for grace—within ourselves, within our churches, and within our public conversations.

Grace is not an accessory to the Christian life. It is its foundation, its fuel, and its defining characteristic.

Grace is always undeserved. Occasionally, you may hear someone comment about another person whom they deem less worthy, saying, “They don’t deserve grace.” Well, here’s the thing about grace: It is always undeserved.

By definition, grace cannot be earned. If it could, it would no longer be grace.

Paul writes, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God” (Ephesians 2:8–9). Grace meets us where we are, not where we pretend to be.

Anne Lamott captures this beautifully: “I do not at all understand the mystery of grace—only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.”

That paradox is essential. Grace welcomes us without conditions, but it never abandons us to condemnation. It receives us honestly and then reshapes us lovingly.

Grace really is greater than our sin. Just like the hymn says, “Grace is greater than all our sin.” Grace has greater bandwidth than our brokenness. No failure outruns it. No shame exhausts it.

Dwight L. Moody once said, “Law tells me how crooked I am; grace comes along and straightens me out.”

That is not denial—it is redemption. As Jerry Bridges reminds us, “Your worst days are never so bad that you are beyond the reach of God’s grace. And your best days are never so good that you are beyond the need of God’s grace.”

Grace does not minimize sin. However, grace neutralizes sins power to define us forever.

Our need for grace is ongoing, yet God’s supply of grace is unlimited. Grace is not a one-time transaction. It is a daily provision.

Life has a way of pressing us through things like uncertainty, cultural division, fatigue, and moral complexity. In every generation, the church is tempted to substitute spectacle, style, or strategy for spiritual depth. But grace remains the only force strong enough to sustain real transformation.

John Blanchard wisely noted, “For daily need there is daily grace; for sudden need, sudden grace; for overwhelming need, overwhelming grace.”

Grace does not run out when life gets complicated. It expands to meet the moment.

Grace is life-shaping, while guilt is life-depleting. Guilt may get our attention, but it cannot change our hearts. Guilt may spur us back to the right path, but it cannot provide fuel for the journey. In other words, guilt has a short shelf life, but grace has no expiration date.

Max Lucado puts it this way: “Grace is the voice that calls us to change and then gives us the power to pull it off.”

Think of your phone’s storage. When it’s full, everything slows down. You can’t download updates, take new photos, or function efficiently. Guilt clogs the soul in the same way. Grace doesn’t just reorganize the clutter; it clears space so something new can grow.

A grace-saturated life is not a careless life. It is a liberated life.

When followers of Jesus err, they do not fall from grace; they fall toward it. Perhaps nowhere is grace more urgently needed than in moments of moral failure—especially public ones. When others declare that someone has “fallen from grace,” the calling of those who follow Jesus is not to pile on condemnation, nor to excuse wrongdoing, but to make more space for grace.

And this applies in two directions. Grace is needed for the one who has committed the moral indiscretion, who must face responsibility, repentance, and restoration. But grace is also needed for the judgmental ones, those who are tempted to weaponize outrage, reduce a person to their worst moment, or forget their own dependence on mercy.

Jesus was remarkably consistent here. He refused to minimize sin, but Jesus also refused to dehumanize sinners. Grace does not deny accountability; it insists on dignity.

A church that makes space for grace becomes a place where truth can be told without fear—and where healing is possible because love remains present.

Grace is meant to work within us, through us, and beyond us. It is the birthmark of the church and the trademark of those who follow Jesus.

Not only are we saved by grace through faith, we also live and learn by grace through faith.

Or, as this prayer from William Sloane Coffin puts it:

May God give you grace never to sell yourself short.
Grace to risk something big for something good.
Grace to remember that the world is too dangerous for anything but truth,
and too small for anything but love.

May we who have tasted grace, always be working to create more space for grace to do its work.

(This blog is based on a sermon about grace I shared in 2009 at FBC Pensacola.)