Rev. Nick Cheek
First Passage: Luke 10:25-37
Second Reading: Ephesians 2:1-10
In our passage this morning, Paul reminds us of one of the most marvelous, hope-filled words in all of Scripture: grace. It’s a word we hear often—especially in here. For those of us who’ve spent time in the church, it’s familiar. Maybe too familiar. We say it in our prayers, sing it in our hymns, even name it as the reason we’re here. But if we’re not careful, we can forget just how radical it really is.
Every single week, we make space in worship to remember God’s grace. In the Prayer of Confession, we turn our attention to our limited human nature. We name our faults and failures, our inability to live up to the holiness to which we’re called. But that’s not where we stop. We also remember God’s mercy—that God has separated our sins as far as the east is from the west, that God is faithful and just to forgive, and that somehow, by grace, we are being made new. Day by day. Again and again.
And Paul puts it plainly: “God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us—even when we were dead through our trespasses—made us alive together with Christ. By grace you have been saved.” That’s the heart of it. Not by our strength, not by our striving—but by grace.
The amazing thing about grace is that it isn’t an IOU. It’s not like God is keeping score, saying, “Alright, you’ve been pretty good this week—you’ve been kind, you prayed, you helped someone out—so now I’ll give you a little grace.” That’s not how grace works.
Grace doesn’t play by the world’s rules. It’s not a transaction. It’s not a deal. It’s not a “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” arrangement. Grace doesn’t wait for you to earn it. Grace doesn’t pick favorites. It’s not reserved for the holy, the polished, or the put-together. God’s grace is for you. For me. For the stranger. For the outcast. For the one you struggle to love. Grace is not bound by borders or bank accounts. It knows no color, no nationality, no political party, no language. It doesn’t ask for credentials. It doesn’t check your record or your résumé. It doesn’t care if you were born in the pews or just walked in for the first time. Grace has no limits.
That’s how vast, how scandalous, how powerful God’s grace truly is.
And church—do you want to know the most magnificent thing about grace? It’s free.
And when I say free, I don’t just mean it costs you nothing. I mean it’s been let loose. It’s not locked away. It’s not behind some curtain. God isn’t guarding it in a vault somewhere, deciding who’s worthy and who’s not.
Through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God’s grace has been unleashed—poured out into our hearts, and into the world. Alive. Active. On the move. [Pause] Through my research this past week, I found something very interesting about the original Greek translation of this word, Grace. Grace can actually be understood as a divine influence upon our hearts and upon our reflection in life. Grace, therefore, is really a state of being… a mindset and a way of living our lives. What if… Grace is something much more than we ever imagined… what if grace was actually imparted to us by God, so that we might extend it to others… so that we might walk in it.
[Pause] But what does walking in grace actually look like?
The first passage we read this morning offers a powerful and familiar example. In the parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus tells of a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho who is attacked by robbers, beaten, and left for dead on the side of the road.
Three individuals come upon this man. The first is a priest—a religious leader. When he sees the wounded traveler, he quickly crosses to the other side of the road and continues on his way. The second is a Levite, someone who assisted with worship in the temple. He too sees the man, but he also avoids him, choosing to pass by.
Why? Why would two religious men, people trained to know God’s mercy and justice, ignore someone clearly in need? Perhaps they were busy, preoccupied with other responsibilities—important things, even. Perhaps they were afraid. Maybe the man didn’t look like them, and they weren’t sure what to make of him. Or maybe they simply didn’t want to be inconvenienced. “What do I owe this man? I don’t know him. Maybe this is his own fault. Why me? Someone else will come along.”
It’s tempting to stand in judgment of them. But if we’re honest, many of us have done the same. We’ve passed by someone in need, convinced ourselves it wasn’t our responsibility, or let fear or assumptions keep us from acting. At times, we’re selective with our compassion. We decide—often without realizing it—who deserves grace and who doesn’t.
I wonder if that’s what happened to the priest and the Levite. Perhaps they couldn’t offer grace in that moment because they had lost touch with it themselves. Maybe they had misplaced the memory of God’s mercy in their own lives… even just for a moment. Maybe they had no room left for grace that day.
Then comes the Samaritan.
Jesus chooses this outsider—the one least expected—to show us what grace looks like in action. The Samaritan sees the wounded man and is moved with compassion. He draws near, bandages his wounds, lifts him onto his own animal, and brings him to an inn. He pays for his care, and even promises to cover any additional cost upon his return. What matters most in this moment is not where the man came from, how he ended up there, or what risks might be involved. The Samaritan doesn’t ask those questions. He simply helps. He responds not with calculation, but with compassion.
It’s as if grace was second nature to him—as if it was part of who he was. It flowed from him freely, without hesitation or conditions. That’s what it means to walk in grace.
When I was 10, grace ran into me and my mother. We were rushing to the Boston airport to catch a flight to Indiana in order to visit family. The vehicle we were driving was one of those 90’s Toyota minivans. Does anyone remember those?
They were tiny little things that really could barely pass as a van. They had that scrunched up front end… it was made so short that half the engine was actually contained under the drivers’ seat of the car. Seriously. To change the oil you had to lift up the seat. A particularly strange concept for a vehicle. I was laying in the back seat stretching out listening to my Sony Walkman. Halfway to Boston I heard commotion from the front seat, I looked up and say smoke in the car, rising from underneath my mom. She quickly pulled over to the side of the highway and exited the van screaming. I quickly did the same.
We started to examine the van. We looked underneath and through the smoke saw little sparks and flames. We backed a way. Both of us were in tears. At this point probably 100 people had passed by already. We stood there as the smoke continued to grow…“is anyone going to stop?”
And then… grace came… it showed up in the form of a decked out Tractor Trailer that looked like it just drove off the set of Mad Max. The monstrous machine had exhaust pipes coming from the sides, flames of fire painted all around it… to top it all off there was a skull and crossbones in the middle of the grill.
The door opened and out stepped a tall and wide man with a big beard. He was covered in leather, with some piercings and visible tattoos. He removed his aviator sunglasses and walked towards us, assessing the situation as he did. He immediately sprang into action. He asked if there was anything in the car. In the stress of the situation we forgot our luggage in the back. He said “Okay, don’t worry about it. Back away… go over there and wait as I call for help.” He pointed to a spot about 100 feet away from the van. He then grabbed the luggage from the back of the van and placed it safely away.
He walked back to his truck and got on his radio. Within seconds, two more tractor trailers pulled off the highway. Each of the drives walked out of their truck with fire extinguishers.
By this time, ashes were falling from the bottom of the van about this big. It was too late to save the van. Meanwhile, Mad Max showed back up with granola bars and bottled water from his truck. He comforted us we watched the flames engulf our little Toyota. We got to talking a little and he heard my mother mention that we were on our way to the airport to visit family in Indiana. Mad Max disappeared again to his truck. Soon enough a firetruck showed up to put out the blaze and took a few comments from my mother.
Mad Max came back and told us “I found someone to help you. I radioed in and a nice family is heading towards Boston. They have an RV and are pulling up as we speak. They will drop you off.” He was right. Just then an RV pulled over and out popped a couple in their late 60’s. They were on their way to Martha’s Vineyard. I helped with the luggage and before we stepped on we thanked our grace maker. I reached out for a handshake but he decided on a hug. I never did get his name… and that’s why he will always be… our hero… Mad Max. [Pause]
Grace shows up in all shapes, sizes and colors. And so also do the opportunities we are given… each and every day… to walk in grace. Towards the end of our passage from Ephesians, Paul shares a mysteriously prophetic vocation for us. He suggests that we were created to do good works… of which God prepared in advance for us. Another way to say this is that as we walk this life, opportunities will show up along out path. Opportunities to help someone in need. Some of these opportunities will be simple and demand less from us… while others may demand more.
Dutch Catholic priest, professor and author, Henry Nouwen was a lover of grace. He wrote, “God’s Kingdom is a place of abundance where every generous act overflows its original bounds and becomes part of the unbounded grace of God at work in the world.”
When I think of the Good Samaritan and Mad Max I wonder what made it so easy for them to walk in grace. I want to be like that. Maybe… they practiced it… maybe the more times they walked in grace the more it became second nature for them.
Walking in grace… it begins with little touches of grace here and there. Extending grace for the one who cuts you off in traffic. Grace for your friend who asks you for help at the very last minute. Grace for your child who decides to paint a mural on the living room wall and can’t wait for you to see it. Grace for the cashier who’s already put in a 10 our day and messed up your total. Maybe it starts there… and then grows… grows into something even more.
As God’s grace moves deeper into our hearts… it transforms us… into people whose thoughts and behaviors promote a gracious life and a gracious world. And friends, in a time like this—when so much in our world feels fractured and fragile—this kind of grace is not just comforting. It’s necessary. And Grace doesn’t play by the rules of the world. It reaches across walls we’ve built. It sits down with people we’d rather avoid. It makes room at the table for those who’ve been pushed out. That’s the miracle of grace. It doesn’t just forgive sin… it calls us into a deeper kind of community, where we don’t just tolerate each other—we see each other as beloved. And the Church is called to be a living witness to that grace—in the way we speak, the way we love, and the way we show up for a hurting world.
Church, who do you need to extend grace to today? Maybe you need to begin by extending it to yourself. Friends, may we be a people who acknowledge that we are indeed saved by God’s Grace… and may we walk in that grace now and forever.