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. -Bill Knott

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The greatest illusion isn’t some card trick that leaves us gasping, or rabbits pulled from a performer’s hat. No, far greater is the fantasy that makes us think we’ll satisfy God’s holiness by saying “no” to salty snacks, or overcome our deficits by working longer, harder, better. This “sleight of hand” is hardly slight, for we deceive ourselves whenever we pretend our brokenness is of the fingernail—instead of the fatal—kind. Grace requires we surrender our illusion that heaven is within our grasp. Only Jesus’ wounded hands will ever lift us from our mud. When we’ve come to doubt ourselves the most, we’re ready to put all our trust in Him. Grace always is an “all or nothing” offer. Jesus gives us all His righteousness: we bring nothing to the performance. We’ve got no rabbits in the hat, nor extra cards tucked up our sleeves. 

“In my hand no price I bring.

Simply to Thy cross I cling.”

So stay in grace. -Bill Knott

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Now would be a good moment to start telling ourselves the truth. I can no more make myself acceptable to God by right living or good choices than I can learn to levitate, fly unaided through the solar system, or pick strawberries on the moon. The myth of legalism fools us into assuming that there are just a few steps left between our holiness and the holiness of God. It grossly underestimates both God’s essential goodness and our essential lostness. Oddly, legalism teaches us to lie to ourselves and God about the real picture of our lives. Grace, on the other, nail-pierced hand, can tell the awful truth about how far we fall short of heaven’s ideal. Jesus’ holiness covers all our lostness and our wretchedness. And for a change, we need not cringe, for we are loved no less for being sinners, nor ever held at arm’s length. No, we are pulled into a grace embrace so kind and so forgiving that fear and willfulness begin to disappear. We start becoming like the love that saves us. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott

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“Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;

The clouds ye so much dread

Are big with mercy and shall break

In blessings on your head.”

It’s every believer’s lot to occasionally grow anxious, to lose peace, to doubt that a good God really wants to do good things for us.  We remember all our sins—years after He has chosen to forget them.  We cringe at indiscretions, which in His discretion He has graciously erased from our life record.  And so we crouch into the future, heads down, half-expecting the worst, or at least the very painful.  Surely all our sins will soon catch up with us. “But surely He has borne our griefs and carried all our sorrows” (Is 53:4). It is to us—those who have taken Jesus as our Lord—the gospel speaks with special, reassuring power. We need not linger in the half-light of our anxious thoughts about our standing with the Saviour:  “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you” (Is 60:1). Grace is for every moment, even those when memories afflict us.  Christ offers all He is to all who seek His joy and light. So stay in grace. -Bill Knott

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Wilona Karimabadi is an assistant editor for Adventist Review and editor of KidsView. www.adventistreview.org

For about 25 years now, the Adventist Review has been publishing Clifford Goldstein’s column.  Called Cliff’s Edge, it deals with a host of issues regarding faith, theology, philosophy, science and just about anything else he can think of that he thinks is relevant and faith-affirming. www.adventistreview.org

Michael Yonker is a historical research specialist in the office of Archives, Statistics and Research at the General Conference of Seventh-day Adventist, Silver Spring, Maryland, USA

Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?”(Psalm 139:7, NRSV) “Searching the Obvious” focuses on how the Holy Spirit is ever active in our surroundings and in our lives, urging us to serve others. Personal stories challenge the reader to be mindful of our Christian Walk, recognize our own fallibility and slow down to ‘search the obvious’, the active presence of the Holy Spirit ever always around us. www.adventistreiew.org

Lael Caesar is an associate editor of the Adventist Review magazine. www.adventistreview.org

Gerald Klingbeil serves as associate editor of Adventist Review. www.adventistreview.org