Why Grace Is The Point
Written by Russ Johnson
Rebels & Rule Keepers Are the Same
Some stories say it all.
At a Coldplay concert, the camera landed on two people in the middle of an affair. Within hours, the internet did what it always does: picked sides.
Some condemned.
Some defended.
But underneath both reactions was something deeper we rarely notice:
We’re all trying to prove we’re okay.
Some of us do it by being good.
Some of us do it by not caring.
But what we often miss is that both are chasing the same thing—
a sense of enoughness… and belonging.
Two Options. Same Game.
Because when it comes to people failing to do what is good, we’ve only been handed two options:
Condemn it — “Disgusting. Cancel them.”
Condone it — “Who are we to judge?”
That’s it. Stone them or shrug it off.
But both responses are playing the same game: control.
One tries to control their sense of enoughness through fleshly righteousness. “I’m enough because I’m better. The other through rebellion. “I’m enough because I don’t care.”
Different strategies.
Same pursuit.
Two People. Same Problem.
Jesus exposed this everywhere.
Take the woman caught in adultery (John 8). She’s the rebel. Caught in the act. No defense left.
The Law says she should be stoned. And the crowd is ready: “Teacher, what should we do with her?” (John 8:4–5)
Jesus kneels. Writes in the dirt. Then says: “Let the one without sin cast the first stone” (vs 7).
One by one, knowing their resume, they leave.
Then He turns to her: “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and sin no more.” (vs 11).
But listen closely to what He actually says in the original Greek writing.
“Go” (poreuou) simply means, go on your way. He’s not issuing a moral contract. And “sin no more” (hamartane mēketi) literally means, don’t keep walking that same path.
So Jesus isn’t threatening her. He’s freeing her: “You don’t have to live like this anymore. There’s a better life for you.”
Now take the rich young ruler (Matthew 19).
He’s the opposite. Moral. Disciplined. Religious.
The kind of person everyone assumes is doing great.
He asks: “What good thing must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Matt. 19:16)
That question says everything.
He’s not asking who God is.
He’s asking what he needs to do to be enough so he can belong.
Jesus meets him in it: “Keep the commandments.”
“Done,” the man says.
So Jesus goes after his misunderstanding of the Law to poke a hole in what he’s using to feel secure:
“If you want to be perfect (teleios — whole, complete), go sell everything you own, give it to the poor, and follow me” (Matt. 19:21).
And the man walks away sad.
Same move by Jesus. Just a different direction.
To the woman, He dismantles condemnation.
To the ruler, He dismantles self-righteousness.
Because He’s not managing behavior.
He’s exposing misplaced identity.
One is chasing pleasure to feel like they belong.
The other is chasing performance.
But both are trying to quiet the same ache: Am I enough?
What the Law Actually Does
This is why Jesus unveils the nature of the Law in Matthew 5 with things like: “You’ve heard it said… do not commit adultery. But I tell you—anyone who looks with lust…”. (see more in All A Lark)
And then:
“Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matt. 5:48)
Not “improve.”
Not “try harder.”
Be. Perfect.
Why?
Because the Law was never a ladder.
It’s a mirror.
Paul says it this way: “Through the law we become conscious of sin” (Rom 3:20).
Not cured of it.
Conscious of it.
Because the Law doesn’t fix you.
It ends the illusion that fixing yourself was ever the point.
What Grace Actually Does
Grace doesn’t play either side.
It doesn’t condemn you into exile.
And it doesn’t shrug at the damage.
It does something far more disruptive: it tells the truth.
That you already belong.
That you’re already enough.
Not because of what you’ve done—
but because God has already made His home in you. “In Him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28).
So grace doesn’t excuse sin.
And it doesn’t weaponize it.
It brings peace to the insecurity that makes you need applause or escape.
In short: grace is the air we breathe as frail humans, not a backup plan for human failure.
Paul says we are “saved by grace” (Eph. 2:8), and that in Christ God was “reconciling all things to Himself” (Col. 1:20).
So grace isn’t the exception to the story.
It’s the point of the story.
And when you trust it?
You stop hiding.
You stop striving.
You stop performing.
And from that trust—not fear—you find the freedom to walk in what is good, hopefully leaving behind the paths that were never giving you life to begin with.