Paul is big on grace, but contextually, he's big on grace because the early church was still a movement rooted in Judaism, which was all about process and observance--keeping the Law above all else.
Most of our "salvation language" and sermons come from Paul, specifically from Romans, which is where Paul speaks in a lot of the terms you/I/the whole "church-y" world use--condemned, sinned, transgressed, separated, etc. That vocabulary was, initially, in Paul's context, rhetoric to articulate the idea that under the Law, ALL are condemned. People disagreed with Paul--they said they'd never committed adultery, but Paul then deferred to Jesus--"If any man looks at a woman lustfully" and Paul says that 50% of the world's population EVER just got condemned by the Savior himself. Paul's point is that Law will kill you, but grace gives you life.
As Baptists in the South we've got about 180 years worth of tradition that tells us how we're supposed to work this thing out. We pray prayers, ask Jesus to indwell us (as if that hasn't been happening since He made us in His image), walk aisles, take a bath of some spiritual significance, then measure our fidelity to Jesus in how often we come to church, whether we serve on committees, teach Sunday School, tithe, etc.
You can get really close to Jesus this way, and you can learn a lot about God--it's not all bad. But it is a transactional system that finds it's roots in specific passages of Scripture, generally stripped out of context.
We stand condemned to...something...hell, lake of fire, trash-heap (there's not one consistent image of separation from God in the New Testament)
Jesus comes in in super-hero fashion and rescues us from that lake of fire and nasty thing into eternity, which is really white and presumably will be occupied with shiny things and lots of singing.
And people dream about that once or twice a week when they're not paying their taxes, working the 9 to 5, mowing the lawn or watching football.
Ecclesiastes says "God put eternity in the hearts of men."
We were meant to live with an ache
--an inconsolable longing that there has to me something more-- more right, more beautiful.
But we get glimpses of it when we're part of bringing the kind of Kingdom Jesus talked about. When we tend to widow, the poor, the marginalized, the oppressed--when we move out of the steepled buildings and into the streets, we see the wildness and the broadness of God's kingdom.
It becomes less of a social club and more of a party--more like some great surprise party where you hang the streamers and get all excited until the person breaks through the door.
And that's what we work and wait for--because God put eternity in the hearts of mankind.
Years ago I taught a Bible Study when I worked at Ridgecrest called the Pursuit of Holiness. It was the single most frustrating thing I've ever done.
Because the more your pursue holiness, the less holy you feel.
Because our vision of God should always get bigger, never smaller.
We feel the small-ness. We feel the un-holyness of it all.
And the pages of Scripture are filled with the full spectrum of people who felt it all--the overwhelming tide of grace and the gut-wrenching rock-crashing of our own weaknesses and vice.
And against the noise of our own soul's songs of lamentation God whispers love to our hearts.
Because love always, always wins.
