AMAZING GRACE: VERSE THREE
Scott Bayles, pastor
Based on David Jeremiah’s Captured by Grace
First Christian Church, Rosiclare, IL
For those of you who haven’t been here or who’ve been asleep in your pew, we’ve spent the last couple for weeks wading our way through John Newton’s timeless hymn—Amazing Grace. This song has been recorded by more artists, in more styles, more times than any other song ever written. It has captivated the hearts and minds of worshippers for generations. But, as I’ve said before, I don’t believe it’s the melody of the song that is so compelling; rather it’s the message of God’s amazing grace within it that reaches deep into our hearts and touches our spirits.
In the first verse, we find the captivating presence of grace, the compassionate purpose of grace, and the changing power of grace. In the second verse, we discover the confusing paradox of grace as well as the connecting point of grace.
By the time we get around to singing the third verse of John Newton’s grand hymn, you might be thinking a variety of things:
Are we going to sing every single verse?
When is the part about there being ten thousand year? That’s the best part!
These shoes aren’t very comfortable; I wish Scott didn’t make us stand up.
I wonder if I could sing alto. I get tired of singing soprano.
Hmm, I wonder what these words are all about…
Every now and then, someone stumbles upon that last thought. What a novel idea—actually paying attention to the words we sing as they emerge from our lips. Try it sometime and I guarantee you’ll experience and immediate “worship upgrade.”
Like the verse before it, the third verse of Newton’s hymn underscores two extraordinary components that combine to make grace utterly amazing. The first component is the comforting provision of grace.
• THE COMFORTING PROVISION OF GRACE
The first stanza of verse three announces, “Through many dangers, toils, and snares I have already come…” What do you usually think about when you sing those words? Do you reflect upon the dangers, toils and snares through which you have personally come?
Newton didn’t write those words because he thought they sounded pithy or because he wanted to give the organist an opportunity to play a minor chord. He wrote them because he lived them. It is remarkable how many close encounters with death John Newton had. Consider some of the highlights:
• On a hunting expedition, Newton stumbled while hiking up a bank and accidentally fired his shotgun, missing his head by inches. He shot the brim of his hat off.
• During the storm that we talked about last week, he was sent below deck and the man who took his place at the pumps was washed overboard.
• One time, he tried to retrieve his hat which had blown overboard, but he was so drunk at the time that he nearly drowned. Surprisingly, he couldn’t swim even when he was sober.
Brushes with death have a way of making us consider the big questions about life and eternity. Newton’s own close calls edged him closer and closer to Jesus. He regarded his survival as proof of the comforting provision of grace, sustaining him over and over, when by any human reasoning he should have perished. Salvation meant more to him than just the hope of heaven; it was a literal experience that he had many times, and the sum total of it all convinced him that God must have a special plan for his life.
Wouldn’t it be fun sit back and listen to John Newton and the apostle Paul exchange war stories? Believe it or not, Paul’s stories would be even more suspenseful than Newton’s. Paul once survived a murder plot by the Jews (Acts 9). He was stoned nearly to death, dragged outside the city, and then left for dead. Later he got up and walked to another city (Acts 14). Having managed to get the entire city of Jerusalem into an uproar, he was physically removed from the temple and then flogged by Roman soldiers (Acts 21). He was shipwrecked not once, but three times. One time he was even lowered in a basket through an opening in the city wall, to escape murder. Through it all, he was plagued by what he called a “thorn in his flesh.” Paul’s life reads like one hair-raising adventure story after the next replete with dangers, toils and snares.
Now, you might look at your life and think it’s kind of humdrum compared to someone like Paul or John Newton. But think a little harder. We all have our share of dangers, toils, and snares—dramatic or not, it really doesn’t matter. Surely, you’ve had times of danger, when your life or livelihood was threatened. You’ve had to toil, when you labored almost beyond endurance. You’ve had snares, when you’ve wrestled with temptation—sometimes winning, sometimes losing.
Have you ever lost a loved one and thought your heart would physically break? Have you ever experienced a painful divorce? Have you ever been out of work, unable to pay your bills, and unsure how you were going to make ends meet? Or how about this one: have you ever been a parent? If so, then you’re an authority on dangers, toils and snares.
Trouble is like home—either you’re there, coming from it, or on your way back to it. Stop and think for a moment. Make a mental list of your most memorable dangers, toils and snares. Then listen to what Paul writes about himself and his experience:
But he said to me, “My grace is enough for you. When you are weak, my power is made perfect in you.” So I am very happy to brag about my weaknesses. Then Christ’s power can live in me. For this reason I am happy when I have weaknesses, insults, hard times, sufferings, and all kinds of troubles for Christ. Because when I am weak, then I am truly strong. (2 Corinthians 2:9-10 NCV).
Paul hated the “thorn in the flesh” that plagued him. But in time, he came to see it as a messenger of grace. “My grace is sufficient for you,” God said. All the hard times, all the suffering, all the dangers, toils and snares became a means by which Paul experienced God’s all-sufficient grace. The same can be true for you.
Think of it this way. When you have a big problem, ask yourself, “How big is this problem?” Then ask yourself, “How big is my God?” Kenneth Wuest says it this way:
There is enough grace in God’s heart of love to save and keep saved for time and eternity, every sinner that ever has or ever will live, and then enough left over to save a million more universes full of sinner, were there such, and then some. There is enough grace available to give every saint constant victory over sin, and then some. There is enough grace to meet and cope with all the sorrows, heartaches, difficulties, temptations, testing, and trials of human existence, and more added to that. God’s salvation is an oversized salvation. It is shock proof, stain proof, unbreakable, all-sufficient. It’s equal to every emergency, for it flows from the heart of an infinite God freely bestowed and righteously given through the all-sufficient sacrifice of our Lord on the Cross. Salvation is all of grace. Trust God’s grace. It is super-abounding grace. (As quoted by David Jeremiah)
The comforting provision of grace is the first component of God’s utterly amazing grace in the third verse of Newton’s hymn. It’s the aspect of grace that sees us through and sustains us in all of life’s dangers, toils and snares. The second component is the confident promise of grace.
• THE CONFIDENT PROMISE OF GRACE
Probably the most reassuring line in this entire song appears at the end of verse three: “’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.”
There are times when we feel we’ve wrestled life into a shape that feels comfortable. Life makes sense, and we feel a sense of satisfaction. In these times, we begin to savor that patterns and routines of life—the familiar arrival of the seasons, the rhythms of honest work and daily life. Then, life a thief in the night, some uninvited event breaks into our lives—death, divorce, disease, downsizing. In the blink of an eye, everything changes. That dependable pattern is destroyed and life as we know it seems threatened. Suddenly the world doesn’t seem so orderly and natural, but random and even heartless.
John Newton may have harbored a few of these feelings when his life was seemingly torn by crisis. Everything was going so well for him, right up to that afternoon in November of 1754. He was sharing a cup of tea with his wife, Mary, mentally preparing for his next journey at sea. He was taking command of a brand-new ship on its maiden voyage. His mind was a busy as the namesake of his new vessel—the Bee.
Then, suddenly, his body toppled unconscious to the floor. Mary screamed in panic. Only after checking his breathing was she sure he was alive. He slowly awoke with a headache that wouldn’t go away and a dizziness unbefitting a ship’s captain. After resigning his post, he would never sail again.
He didn’t know what to do with himself. His heart broke when he heard the news of another man’s appointment as captain of the Bee. As the ship vanished over the horizon, Newton felt he was watching his life’s work fade with it.
However, it wasn’t long before more news arrived concerning the Bee. There had been a revolt onboard. The slaves had seized control of the ship, killing the new captain and two other men.
God, in his matchless grace, used an unexplained illness to not only save John Newton’s life, but to get him out of the business of slavery once and for all. In retrospect, Newton concluded that life was strange, but God was good. Or, as Clement of Alexandria once said, “Christ has turned all our sunsets into dawns.”
Newton’s mind returned again and again to grapple with a profound sentence at the heart of the book of Romans, at the heart of God’s Word, at the heart of God’s character and every person’s life. Romans 8:28, which is the foundation stone of the very workings of your destiny and mine, says this: “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28 NKVJ).
John MacArthur describes Romans 8:28 as “breathtaking in its magnitude, encompassing absolutely everything that pertains to a believer’s life.” John Phillips observes that “like the cogs in an intricate piece of machinery, all things work together for good to those called of God for the simple reason that God’s purposes cannot be thwarted.”
One of these days, we’ll explore the depth of riches and wonder contained in this promise in more detail. For the moment, though, know that this promise is like a rock beneath your feet. When all the earth seems to tremble, and when nothing seems secure anymore, you can stand boldly on this rock for no fault lines can dislodge it. No tremor can unsettle it.
We may not understand how or why or when everything is going to work out for our good, but we can trust that it will. John Newton thought that his life and his career were over. But it turned out to be a whole new beginning. We know that God is good. We know that he is working in this world. We know that he is using all things for his purposes and for our good. And we know that someday we will stand beside his throne and see all this world’s events, and all the moments of our lives, from outside of time. We will see our birth, our death, and everything in between as one comprehensive mural. In that moment, all of the pieces of the puzzle will be seen in their true place and proper perspective. We’ll know exactly why God allowed some of the worst moments of our lives and how exactly we fit into his all-encompassing plan. Most importantly, we’ll be home.
“’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.”
Conclusion:
In just a moment we’ll all stand up to sing this song. By the time we get to the third verse, your mind may be in any of million places. But I hope that this time, as we sing you’ll take time to reflect on these timeless words and the message they convey—a message about the comforting provision of grace and the confident promise of grace.
Whatever dangers, toils or snares you’ve faced in life, know that it has only been by the grace of God that you’ve been brought safe thus far and only his grace can lead you home.
