Second Chance Solution

By Shane Varcoe

This book is not just about personal reflection and edification. It is designed to be used in small groups (older youth and older) and has well-presented sections called ‘keys’ around the themes of grace, repentance, obedience, maintaining discipline and focus over the long haul and the warning in the Scriptures to those who neglect or ignore such a great salvation. Each section includes questions and discussion starters cthat are designed to grapple with the themes with others and apply them to your life.
Rev. David Fuller
Anglican Minister, Evangelist, Life Member — God’s Squad CMC

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shane Varcoe
• Release date: May 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370409839

Book preview

BACKGROUND:

CONTEXT IS EVERYTHING

I have no doubt that many reading this have heard the phrase, ‘Our God is the God of the second chance — even the third and fourth.’ It is a one-liner that speaks volumes to us, and it is ostensibly true. God’s grace, through the finished work of Calvary and Jesus Christ’s intercession for us, affords us this incredible reality. However, left as an unqualified stand-alone statement, what can it mean? If you talk to Christians from different denominational or doctrinal flavours, you’ll get varying responses, everything from the idea that God is a big grandpa who overlooks your mistakes and will forgive you even if you don’t say sorry or don’t even really care — to the ‘sin boldly, repent at will’ ideology. Or to the other extreme, if you repeat an error, you aren’t really sorry and are therefore likely to be abusing grace.

So which one is accurate? I know the ones I prefer! The first example above is particularly appealing to me. Yet, if I study the manner in which our Creator has dispensed grace from Genesis to Revelation, the picture certainly looks nothing like the ‘I can’t help, but wink at sin Grandpa’ image that many love to embrace.

In every recorded scenario our Father in heaven ensures grace is always — and I do mean always — exercised, but how that grace is exercised is determined by what appears to be both internal and external divine factors. God is passionate about grace as a gift, resource and empowering agent. He is just as passionate about the way it is engaged by His created, you and me. By the latter I mean that God has expectations that his precious transcendent virtue will produce something in us that is both eternally beneficial, and relationship-imbuing. When this is not realised, measures — divine loving measures — must be taken.

In this work I want us to visit many of the issues surrounding the key components that make up what I have called THE SECOND CHANCE SOLUTION, and they are, in essence, grace, repentance and divine justice. However, before we go there, I want to share something of my experience of a wonderful Lord and His instructions on these priceless components.

Besides the fact that I live and move and have my being by God’s goodness, looking back I see that my first acknowledgment of God’s grace was being born into a time when most people still had church as a priority. It wasn’t a high priority, but it was in there. More than that, I was born into a family that had a fairly high degree of active involvement in the local church, due in part to my father’s own upbringing and later spiritual encounters. Like many of the kids my age I went to Sunday school and heard a great deal about God, the Bible and what Jesus had done. At one point I can recall the Scriptures were read at meal times in our home.

Again, looking back remembering my behaviour and also listening to harrowing tales my mother told of my preschool antics, also present clear evidence of undeserved favour. I wasn’t a ‘wild child’ in the sense of naughty, but more strong willed, adventurous and gratuitously independent… after all I was two years old! This combination proved to be more than a handful for my mother. One of my regular activities was escape artistry. Now I’ve always been a great exponent of one exercising their gifts … and to me this was just that, a gift. Well at least to me, but to my mother, a curse. I got so good at it, that it would take but minutes for me to disappear. I’d end up at my father’s school and of course on a very regular basis, at the kindergarten. I really wanted to be there, I knew I had two years to go, but hey, there were kids everywhere.

One of my particularly favourite escape destinations was ‘Plummy’s Dump’. Now this was a large old scrap metal collection point and a veritable gold mine for this intrepid little explorer. Old cars, storage tanks, trucks and huge indefinable metal objects that one could get merrily engrossed in for hours. What was even better about this world of adventure was that it was conveniently located just over our 1.8 metre high back fence. 6 feet — that was nothing to this determined and reckless child! Once I had embarked on one of these adventures, there was no regard for life, limb or property. Hey! I’d fallen down more times than I could remember and, yes it hurt, but I was still mobile and there was so much to see! Clothing was the least of my concerns, much to my low income family’s dismay. If I’d get my jumper/sweater caught on a nail, I’d simply wriggle out of it and leave it on the fence. In fact it often helped me descend heights with less of a THUD! Shoes! Ha! Many pairs were orphaned, and the list of clothing casualties goes on.

I can vividly recall one day having ventured the deepest I’d been into Plummy’s Dump. I discovered that which seemed enormous to me as a very small two year old, a big shed with wire mesh all around it. I was later to know this structure as a chicken coop. Inside, as I peered through the wire, to my gleeful surprise there were some ‘pretty birdies’. I wanted to pat these — as I saw them — pretty birdies, so I found my way in and headed toward them … They were very big birdies, much taller than me, but they didn’t want much to do with me and kept backing up until there was no more room to back. I wanted to cuddle one of these birds, but they kept hissing at me.

Yes, you guessed it; I had bailed up a gaggle of geese! Blissfully ignorant, I stepped even closer. Then God’s grace arrived in the form of my dad — and just in the nick of time, as God’s grace often is. Now you are realising this short list of near misses all happened before I even got to preschool. Trust me, it gets scarier — climbing sheer rock faces with no rope, net or harness, running and crawling up and down storm water drains, even getting stuck under a very narrow road gutter. I could spend two chapters on my pre-adolescent antics alone, but I’ll spare you.

In later years, the toys got bigger and the thrills faster — motor vehicle incidents for both car and motorcycle are a whole other deal; travelling at 230 kilometres per hour in a car with all the horsepower, yet very and I do mean very, ordinary suspension. Racing a station wagon perilously close to sheer cliff drops (so close and so fast that young adult males were nearly in tears with fear and threatened to physically harm me if I did not stop). On my motorcycle, hit by cars on three occasions (never coming off the bike once which is remarkable in itself), run off the road at speed, nearly over a precipice twice and the list goes on. The less savoury events I’ll spare you; suffice it to say I have experienced more than any sceptic could call ‘luck’. I know, in hindsight, it has been one of the components of God’s great grace — what the Calvinists’ referred to as ‘common grace’. The grace granted all God’s creation to live, move and have our being.

However, it is in this ‘common’ grace arena that the utterly remarkable cultural architect Rev John Wesley had a more profound insight into the nature of this grace. It was Wesley who posited the notion of ‘prevenient grace’ — the grace that is not simply ‘general’, but the grace that goes before, enabling or giving us the capacity, if we so chose, to turn to God. Howard Snyder in his work The Radical Wesley — the Patterns and Practices of a Movement Maker, wrote

‘Wesley saw the will as essential to the image of God. God had given women and men a will, either to serve him or to rebel. Now, because of sin, the will was under bondage. People chose to do evil rather than good. Salvation, therefore, meant restoring the image of God and freeing the will to do God’s will…By contrast, Wesley saw prevenient grace as the first step in God’s redeeming work, even though people could (and most would) reject this grace. He saw God’s grace as preventing [or coming before], accompanying, and following every person. Thus God is sovereign and man and women are free. In Colin William’s words, with the doctrine of prevenient grace Wesley broke the chain of logical necessity by which the Calvinist doctrine of predestination seems to flow from the doctrine of original sin. (more on this later)

Anyway, the point, I think, is clear — I have basked in God’s unmerited favour throughout my life and for the most part have not given it a second thought. I’m sure many would call the above record of testimony mere luck, but there is so much more to this than meets the eye.

As I mentioned earlier, my Christian heritage, particularly on my paternal side was strong, with even preachers in the family line. Much prayer was given for me by my paternal Grandmother, who though being brought up in a Christian home, wasn’t saved until mid-life at the Salvation Army. My wonderful parents also prayed for me. As appreciative of some of my heritage as I am, that is not the most significant factor.

Though I was brought up in a fairly conservative home, a personal relationship (as I now understand it) with our Father in heaven and His Son Jesus was not yet evident. However, things were stirring. I recall in my mid primary school years, picking up the habit of saying … ‘Oh my God!’ It seemed all the kids at school used it all the time and it was like some kind of sanitised swearing. In short, it was cool! I remember being in the car with the folks and dropping this new found radical phrase. What happened next was one of those ‘awakenings’. My parents quietly, but firmly chastised me, which of itself was not unexpected. It was what they said that really

impacted me!

They said I was taking the Lord’s name in vain, a kind of a blasphemy. Surprisingly, having a religious cultural context had not enabled me to realise that, but having it pointed out shook me a bit and I simply stopped saying it.

In my estimation the second most profound and life-changing encounter with God’s great grace was in the summer of early 1973. (I’ll explain why it is the second, a little later on.) I was at yet another kids’ church camp. During my primary (grade) school years I had attended a number of camps up in the mountains of our state in cabins. They were good fun and were comprised of a bunch of wild and exciting activities with some ‘churchy stuff’ thrown in … at least that’s how I and the vast majority of church and non-church kids viewed them. However, this year’s camp was going to transform my life like nothing ever before or since. It was the last year of primary school for me; I was eleven years old and going on twelve in the New Year. When I came back from the summer break starting in the February of 1973, I would be a secondary school (junior high) student.

The camp had gone like most had on previous occasions — fun, food and frenetic activities. Toward the close of this week away, something remarkable and supernatural happened. It was one of the few church meetings we had in the actual church building. We were in a tiny and very old Methodist Church. We had sung many of the familiar kids’ camp songs that we knew and it was a little ‘ho-hum’ because I wasn’t good at or inclined to sing. The Rev. Eric Gronow (Camp ‘Dad’ and a kind old gent) did a bit of a preach, then it happened … what he said I can’t recall except that it was about what this God, Jesus did for me. Jesus had to die for my sins because I was a sinner and if I was going to truly know God, not merely be known by Him, I needed to repent.

God loved me so much that He was willing to do this. From my perspective, this was by no means a forceful or well-orated presentation. Rev. Gronow, as I mentioned, was a kind and

gentle man.

This message was certainly not foreign to me; I had heard it before ... but this time I believe grace — saving grace, caused it to pierce my heart! Though my memory is a little taxed some thirty plus years on, I can still quite vividly recall a sense of something gentle and warm, yet powerful and firm enveloping the room. It seemed to me as if I was the only one in the room, yet the church had well over a hundred people crammed into it. This ‘sense’ was soon going to become an all-pervading presence.

The service concluded. I sat up the back and didn’t move, I couldn’t move, not because I was physically unable, but because I was engaged, captivated and held by a strange wave or wonder, fear and awe. At the same time, I had an uncanny sense that I was totally secure yet not necessarily safe.

To be honest, I am struggling to describe this. I’m really not doing this encounter justice at all. Then in a still, small, yet crystal-clear voice, I heard an invitation, one that was very difficult to decline. ‘I want you to give your life to me!’

Was the voice internal or external? That was indefinable because, by now, I was the only one left in the building. The service had concluded and it was like our Lord was waiting for my solitude before He spoke. It was difficult to define the origin of this voice, because everything had changed. I knew exactly where I was, but it wasn’t there — weird? Not really, for when God’s presence is about (not merely His anointing) dimensions seem to suspend, rather than change. It’s like an interface — closest I can imagine would be the ‘transfiguration on the mount’ when the Father presented Himself with Jesus.

Of course I am speculating, but as I intimated previously, I have trouble defining a theophany (both empirically and from what I understand). As I’ve penned, the congregation of campers had left. I was beckoned by this invitation to go to the front of the church to the altar rail and step. I didn’t have a clue what to do except to give my life to Jesus. I knelt down and I believe it was the Lord who led me to pray.

He literally and simultaneously convicted me of my need of Him, what repentance was, and what I must say and do. It wasn’t complicated, but it was profound and intricate. Here I am, a boisterous, strong-willed, moral ‘churchified’ prepubescent, who had seen or done little that was immoral in my life, on my knees, sobbing uncontrollably and confessing to an endless list of what seemed to be the most minute issues.

As time and process would reveal, it wasn’t really those things at issue, it was their origin. I was utterly unclean outside of Christ and more than that, quite desperately lost, but from what? Was I horrified? No, but grieved, oh the grief! I saw, felt and understood just what Jesus had done, but more importantly, I saw why! I was so desperately in need of this love, and to quote the apostle Paul … ‘I was bought with a price, I was now no longer my own.’ Now I understood, that is exactly how I had been living; as if I were

my own.

My Lord led me through a journey of words, illuminations and revelation. I confessed sin — not merely actions, but rather attitudes and assumptions, including indifferences and ignorance. (I can articulate that now, but as a young pre-teen this was difficult). With the tears, confession and repentance and all the renouncing, recanting and relinquishing, I could feel weights, burdens and encumbrances leave me. I was incredibly, indescribably free! No, it wasn’t the emotional release of a good crying session, nothing like it (I’ve had many since). This was phenomenal! I was, quite literally, afloat. Whether I actually left the ground or not I cannot testify to with complete accuracy, but believe me, this was supernatural. Time seemed to stand still. It was as if, in God’s presence and with this process of grace meeting broken sinner and repentance released, there was all the time in the world. This transaction had eternal ramifications, and it could not — must not — be rushed (stark contrast to what we see these days). God was not in a hurry! This was

saving grace!

As I left the church and gleefully, peacefully ascended the hill to the campsite, I continued to experience being ‘born-again’ into the zoë life — the God kind of life. As I met with leaders they would quite literally step back and flinch and say, ‘Wow, what’s happened to you? You are glowing!’ This euphoria, this transcendent state, was physical, not just emotional and it didn’t dissipate. It grew and it was like someone had lit a fire. This is not all that began to grow. I had a ravenous hunger to know and teach the Word of God. That’s right, eleven years old and passionate to teach others, letting them know of this wonderful Jesus. I started to disciple (as I knew it) my siblings nine, seven and five years old respectively. I witnessed to all and everyone at school. I wore my ‘ONE WAY’ t-shirt and received some stinging abuse, even to the point of being belittled in front of my classmates by a teacher, mocking my new found relationship.

However, as powerful an experience of God’s grace that this was, it is not, in my personal estimate, His most significant investment in my life. Despite my powerful conversion and initial years of fire and fervour, there were deficiencies in my spiritual life — in hindsight, unforgivable deficiencies. I was not discipled in any definable or deliberate manner. My consistent missional attitude brought persecution and I had little peer fellowship or mentoring input. This, along with the onset of puberty and rejection by my secular peers over the years, spelt demise to the fervour and fire in my life. Believe it or not, as inconceivable as what I am about to disclose is, after about five years I drifted away from God and ‘back-slid’. Though acknowledging God’s existence and even activity, I was essentially ‘out of the game’, so to speak. Having tasted of the heavenly gift at such a level, it could not be possible to depart, could it? If departed, it would certainly be impossible to restore such a one to relationship, wouldn’t it? I could dedicate a number of chapters to explain how and why this departing from the Way occurred! (In fact I have written a number of papers and studies on the imperative of discipleship). But it would be an unnecessary digression in this context.

What I do want to do is share a little of the immense, unfathomable grace extended to me as God the Father reached out to a sheep, who knew Heaven’s fold intimately, yet wandered away.

What did our Lord do? How did He facilitate the journey back? The process was convoluted and very personal. My heavenly Father knew my weaknesses and vulnerabilities (and so did the enemy of my soul). My sense of self was in ruin. Yet through my insecurity, confusion and self-doubt, God drew me back. I had drifted into the world’s ways of adolescent culture and sought peer approval via a number of inappropriate means, which only added to my psycho-spiritual malaise. In very colloquial and simple terms — I messed up using the wrong stuff, in the wrong setting, with an unhelpful bunch of people.

To cut a very long story short, I experienced rejection and I chose to be rejected: a choice made due to limited options but my choice nonetheless. I had no self-confidence and all the insecurities and hypersensitivity that go with that. I sunk into a