The Grace Quota

By Andrew Miller

Following a showdown with the devil, would God really limit his grace to his people? The kind folk at Clapham Community Church are about to find out…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9780359031153

Andrew Miller

ANDREW MILLER is an operations expert whose clients include the Bank of Nova Scotia, McKesson Canada, 3M Canada, Mount Sinai Hospital, and other world-class institutions. Before starting his firm in 2006, he held senior consulting positions with IBM Business Consulting Services and PricewaterhouseCoopers Consulting.

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The Grace Quota

The Grace Quota

A novel

Andrew Miller

© Andrew Miller, 2018. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from the author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Andrew Miller with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. For further use, Andrew can be contacted at [e-mail]

ISBN #: 978-0-359-03089-7

For Mike and Mayu

who have always shown me grace

But my people still wouldn’t listen;

my princely people would not yield to me.

So I lifted my grace from off of their lives and I surrendered them

to the stubbornness of their hearts.

For they were living according to their own selfish fantasies.

Psalm 81:11-12 (TPT)

1

One day the angels came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan also came with them. He appeared as a tiny black dot before the Lord, like a comet passing in front of the sun. The Lord said to Satan, Where have you come from?

Satan answered the Lord, From roaming throughout the earth, going back and forth on it. The dot seemed to blink on and off, as though at times completely overcome by the brightness of the light.

Then the Lord said to Satan, Have you considered my people? There is no one on earth like them; they are at peace and joyful, people who love God and know the truth.

Do they love God for nothing? Satan replied. Have you not covered them in grace so that their every sin is pardoned? You bless their endeavours and allow their transgressions, free of punishment or guilt. But they take your mercies for granted, and they go about their days with complacence, because of your unlimited grace. What kind of love is that? And even if they love the Lord, they certainly don’t fear him. They are a spoilt people who respond to kindness with licence, and are holy not by their actions or their intentions, but by the grace of the Lord alone. Limit your grace to the upright and see how they fall! Limit your grace to them and test their knowledge of the truth! For as surely as you live, they love the blessings but not the blesser!

The Lord said to Satan, "Very well, then, I will limit my grace to them. I will test my people and I will sift them.

Then Satan went out from the presence of the Lord.

2

Boris was a pitiful dog. Most Newfoundlands are big and cumbersome but Boris was so much more. He was enormous, and was so uncoordinated that he couldn’t put one paw in front of the other without tripping. He had the added misfortune of being both ugly and inordinately stupid, and as such, was one of the most lumbering creatures on God’s earth. But he could eat and poo like a champion, and he was hopelessly affectionate, and that was enough for Stevie and his family.

It was a cold June evening when he took Boris for a walk. They looked ridiculous. Stevie, at over two metres tall and lean, walking what looked ostensibly like a bear on a leash. Neither cared about this appearance as they stepped through the streets and into the park, the human with his head into the wind, and the canine with his nose to the ground. The chilly gusts teased Stevie’s hair which blew over a content brow. He turned the collar of his coat up and buried his chin into his neck. His mind turned to the weekend, as it typically did on Thursdays. Boris stopped to mark his territory.

On Friday afternoon and evening, he would busk. He was getting bigger gigs now, but busking was his bread and butter, and in his heart of hearts it was what he loved to do most. He had performed under several names, all based on ‘Steamy’, a play on his name, given to him innocuously by an infant cousin who couldn’t pronounce ‘Stevie’. For a while it was Steamy Knight and then briefly it was Steamy Daze, before he eventually settled on Steamy Surprise. He had developed several comedy routines, all of them around his ability to juggle six pins and an apple. The apple would be bitten in between throws, and then spat out all over the guffawing audience, except for that one time when he put a dent in one of the pins and lost a tooth. His insurance didn’t cover workplace accidents like that, and now he’s just that little bit more careful with the apple.

Saturday would be Jordan’s 21st. It would be a suitably grand affair, befitting the status of his family. They had asked Steamy Surprise to perform, somewhere in between the band and the first course. He was honoured to be asked, and the rewards of performing before an outdoor audience of a thousand were more than enough recompense for performing for free. He and Jordan had had a ball planning his entrance. Being dropped from a low flying helicopter and bouncing from an earth ball up onto the stage was a sterling idea, except for the small issue of him probably not surviving. Swinging in on a flying fox and dragging himself across the main table - taking out the whole table setting in one fell swoop - was Stevie’s favourite, but Jordan’s father probably wouldn’t approve, especially if he took out a senator in the process. Being shot from a canon was also raised in an excitable moment. In the end, it was decided by higher powers that he would just be asked to come up on the stage at the time of his performance. The boys were terribly disappointed with this, and planned to circumvent such tedium by secretly placing a couple of smoke bombs on the stage which would detonate with superb mistiming, shortly after he had started his performance. People love mistakes like that. That would be his hook for the night.

Boris trudged over to a post in the ground, arched his back, and emptied his bowels. Stevie watched bemused. You know I’d be arrested for doing that, he said. Boris kept pushing and Stevie kept watching.  Is that your first movement in a week? He was astounded at the mass even a dog Boris’s size could produce. The wind began to howl through the park. He picked all the steaming nuggets up in a plastic bag, while Boris pretended to not look guilty about it.

Sunday would be church. It would be a normal Sunday service, for Stevie, at any rate. One of his passions was to tie his performances into ministry. He did this very well, and was given opportunity (and generous latitude) to do so during special services and youth group meetings.  (His favourite was to juggle five loaves and two small fish. And it didn’t really matter which one of those he bit into.) Occasionally he was invited to other churches, as well.  After Sunday’s service there would be a get-together at Chad’s house for the third and final rugby test on TV. He wondered if such a gathering might be a violation of the sabbath, but was never terribly sure about these things, so had decided to go anyway. Besides, he reasoned, it would be good fellowship.

With his head down, he never saw the shadows approach. There was one in front of him and two behind. G’day, muttered one.

G’day, Stevie returned casually, but he knew he was in trouble.

Got a light?

I don’t smoke.

Then what are you good for? asked another. Stevie backed toward the trees on the side of the park, but he was only moving into shadows. He eyed the far end of the ground where the road was lit, but it was distant and empty. Why don’t you just give us everything you’ve got? He turned to see a face that he vaguely recognised. Just give it up, man. The recognition was not reciprocated. Reluctantly, Stevie reached for the wallet in his back pocket, but before he could get it, a large fist swung into his guts like a wrecking ball. He doubled over and began to retch. A hand retrieved the wallet from him before leaning in to his ear from behind. Is that all you got? Stevie stood there, still bent over, boggle-eyed, open-mouthed and rigid with pain. Then you’re not good for much else, are you? the voice wheezed before they moved in on him.

Instinctively, Stevie swung at them with whatever was in his hand. It happened to be the poo bag which split and sprayed faeces all over his attackers. For a very brief second, he thought that was funny. Then the gravity of the situation came upon him, as did the fury of his attackers. They knocked him down and descended on him with a flurry of kicks to his abdomen and head till he was bloody and senseless. One of them turned on the barking Newfoundland and struck him across the head with a bat. The sound of bone cracking could be heard a block away. And down she goes! he cried with upraised arms. Stevie turned heavenward and silently prayed God, help me, before a final stomp to his temple put his lights out.

It was the pain which woke him. The nurse heard his groans, immediately increased his sedation, and called for the doctor. He became vaguely aware of his surroundings. His head was completely bandaged with tiny slits for one eye, his mouth and nostrils. His whole body was in a cast and some of his limbs were bound, but he couldn't tell which ones or how many. Tubes came in and out of the bandages, linked to machines that blinked and beeped all about him. There was a window to his right, a door to his left, and a TV on the wall in front of him playing a comedy.  It didn’t help at this time. His body felt like a sack of fluid. The only body part he could move was his right eye. The only thing he could think of was the pain.

Several staff came in and leaned over him with expressions usually reserved for unwrapping mouldy food. A tall, slender lady, standing in the middle of them, took charge, and introduced herself as, Dr. Yu, the head of the ICU. She asked Stevie if he could hear and understand her. He nodded that he could. She explained that he had suffered severe trauma to his body and head, including multiple broken ribs, a broken arm, a ruptured spleen, massive internal bleeding, a broken jaw and nose, a fractured skull and damage to his left eye, the extent of which they were yet to determine, and he had been in a coma for two days. Stevie nodded his understanding, but could do little more. He didn’t even try to speak, and any other gesturing was out of the question. The police, she continued, would want to speak with him as soon as he was able to communicate with them.

The team in white departed, allowing for the weeping mother and the stunned brother to come and, with hands over mouths and tears in their eyes, express their grief. They stayed only briefly, with the mother, wanting to hold her son, beside herself with sorrow. Lost for words, she uttered endlessly, ‘Lord, have mercy’ before retreating from the room as one staggers away from an unspeakable tragedy. Ethan, the younger brother, rested his hand lightly on Stevie’s foot and prayed for his healing. He turned and set the TV onto the gospel channel, and slipped out of the room. Stevie fell into a heavy sleep.

He was roused by the sound of an angry voice. It thundered from the television.

Far be it, declares the LORD, "for me to allow my grace to be abused!

My people, who are of my Spirit and of my Name

are not of my mind nor of my heart,

and they shall be called to account for their sloth!

They honour me with their mouths

but they dishonour me with their lives.

They have become a spoiled people,

swollen with pride;

a soiled people,

choking on lies!"

The voice boomed through the speakers.  Stevie fixed his eye on the screen and followed the figure intently as he prowled back and forth across the stage.

My people, says the LORD, "are a compromised people

with divided hearts and idle hands!

They turn their eyes to the world,

and they set their standards to the measures of the world.

My people," declares the Lord,

"have mistaken my kindness for weakness,

and my patience for indifference;

they have mistaken confession for repentance,

and the feelings of empathy for the deeds of compassion.

"Surely my servant Jeremiah was speaking to this generation when he said,

‘You have rejected me.

You keep on backsliding.

So I will reach out and destroy you;

I am tired of holding back.

I will winnow them with a winnowing fork

at the city gates of the land.

I will bring bereavement and destruction on my people,

for they have not changed their ways.’

"Surely my servant Zephaniah was speaking to this generation when he said,

‘At that time I will search Jerusalem with lamps

and punish those who are complacent,

who are like wine left on its dregs,

who think, ‘The Lord will do nothing,

either good or bad.’

"Surely my servant Hosea was speaking to this generation when he said,

‘When I fed them, they were satisfied;

when they were satisfied, they became proud;

then they forgot me.

So I will be like a lion to them,

like a leopard I will lurk by the path.

Like a bear robbed of her cubs,

I will attack them and rip them open;

like a lion I will devour them—

a wild animal will tear them apart.’"

The voice was in a rage now. The words gushed as a mighty river churning and foaming over its course, creating and destroying, roaring and silencing.

"Be warned, people of the Book,

people of the cross!

Hold on to what you have, so that no one will take your crown.

If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place.

I will not turn a blind eye to your sins forever.

To those who don’t know me,

I will extend in this day unlimited grace

that they might turn to me and not die.

But to those who claim to know me,

I will limit my grace in this day,

so that they will learn to honour my Name

and live holy lives worthy of my sacrifice.

Listen and be warned!

Whoever calls on my name

and claims to walk in my ways

but lives with compromise and complacency,

I will tear their hearts as they tear mine.

All who confess my name

but live with sin in their hearts

and on their lips and in their lives,

I will tear their hearts as they tear mine.

Anyone who declares their love for me with their lips

but doesn’t fear me with their lives,

I will tear their hearts as they tear mine.

I am the Lord your God!"

There was a lengthy pause before a second, gentler voice followed from the screen. Thank you Pastor Brian. Let’s move into a time of prayer, people.

Stevie’s body remained useless but his mind was gaining clarity. The words he had heard from the TV penetrated him deeply. They were disturbing words, threatening words, and they caused him briefly to re-examine his life, and, more so, to re-consider the nature of God. But the sheer vitriol of the words caused him to doubt that they were true - and he surely wished they were untrue - but he couldn’t get them out of his head. They rumbled through his consciousness, I will tear their hearts…listen and be warned…I will limit my grace…I will tear their hearts…I will limit my grace.  He fell back into a troubled sleep with these remonstrations furrowing his brow.

The impact of the pastor’s words went way beyond Stevie’s room. The extreme nature of the prophecy was great fodder for a connected generation. That normally underwhelming program was replayed across the country and the world within days, with the vision and the words of the pastor presented in tasty soundbites and followed by all manner of parodies. The TV news, the late night shows, the talkback radio programs, the newspapers and lifestyle magazines all picked up on it, and milked it till the airwaves leaked. The response to it among the general populace was predictable. For the majority, it was as though gossip, a welcome distraction from the everyday drudgery, forgotten as soon as it had been heard. A vocal minority rejoiced in the promises of the message, hoping that they were true and literal, and that as a result there would be significantly fewer Christians in the world. Another minority, larger than the other, scoffed at the message, but watched uneasily to see if there could possibly be any truth to it. The church was divided. Some cleaved to the words as scripture itself, and found it to be a source of the highest praise; others rejected it as the heretical rantings of a showman. Few were able to ignore it.

Stevie was woken again the following morning by a nurse who came to change his bandages. A