Preceding Grace, Pursuing Grace | The Rev. Shawn Torres

Church,

every one of us knows what it's like to long for God's comfort

while quietly hesitating at the changes his love calls us to make.

We cherish the rest of Psalm 23, we cling to the peace of

Philippians 4, we even hope in the promises of Isaiah

25. But when the King gently calls us to grow, to

repent, to release old patterns, to put on the

garment of righteousness, something in us pauses,

resists, whispers, "Maybe later."

And here's the danger. We can begin to treat God's

preceding grace, his invitation, his welcome, his open

door, as if it were permission to stay exactly as we are.

We can assume that because God invited us, God is already

satisfied with us. But the collect we prayed this morning prays that

God's grace would precede and follow us, not

to keep us comfortable, but so we may continually be given to good

works. In other words, grace doesn't simply open the

door. Grace transforms the guest.

Across our scriptures this morning, we see God exposing a reality that we cannot

afford to ignore. The King who invites

freely also inspects thoroughly.

He welcomes generously, but he transforms relentlessly.

He calls us to his table, but he demands that we wear the garment of

kingdom righteousness. God's preceding grace

opens the door to the royal banquet, but his pursuing grace

demands that you put on the garment of kingdom righteousness.

Before we talk about this garment, we need to face a deeper truth.

That is, you cannot wear what you have not received.

You cannot put on righteousness until you first admit you have

none. And the only reason any of us can even come near the

banquet hall is because the King moved toward us when we were

moving or not moving toward him. So let's begin where

scripture begins, with the breathtaking, undeserved initiative of

God's preceding grace.

Isaiah reveals a millennial feast that is nothing less than

extravagant. We read it this morning.

Rich food, aged wine, choice meats, a table

overflowing with abundance that we did not earn.

And Jesus, he picks up this same imagery in Matthew chapter 22.

Matthew 22 · chapter mention

He says, a king preparing a royal wedding feast for his son.

But here's the tension that is in this text.

Everything is ready, but nobody wants to come.

The dignitaries shrug, the privileged ignore the summons.

The invited guests treat the king's invitation like we treat junk mail.

And what does the king do? He does not cancel the feast.

He escalates the invitation. He sends his servants into the

crossroads, to the forgotten, the unworthy, the bad, and the good, to

people who never imagined that they would be welcomed in a palace.

That is preceding grace. Grace that finds you in

your poverty, summons you in your unworthiness, and invites you to a

feast that you could never afford.

Jesus's message is for those who walked in this morning convinced that your

past disqualifies you, your failures feel too heavy, your history

feels too messy, your shame even feels too loud.

But preceding grace means God invited you.

Before you cleaned up, before we even repented, before we even

realized that we were starving. Come to Christ as you are.

But we have to understand, the King loves us too much to allow us

to stay as we are.

Preceding grace gets us in the door, but once we step inside his

kingdom, once we sit at his table, once we taste the goodness of

God, that's when the battle begins.

Because the moment that we enter the banquet hall, the world starts

pulling at our sleeves. Old habits begin

to whisper. Old sins start to call our name.

Enemies begin to circle the perimeter.

So the question becomes, who keeps us from drifting back?

Who guards us when fear arises? Who chases you when

temptation hunts you? That's where pursuing

grace comes in. Grace that doesn't just welcome you but

tracks you, protects you, and refuses to let you go.

Let's look at Psalm 23 and Philippians 4, where God reveals the

relentless guardrails of his pursuing grace.

In Psalm 23, David moves from the pasture to the banquet hall.

"You prepare a table before me," he says, "in the presence of my

enemies." Not in the absence of my enemies, but in their presence.

David is eating while danger watches.

He is feasting while threats breathe around him.

He is anointed while adversaries glare through the window.

But how does he stay calm? How does he remain faithful?

How does he stay seated at the table?

This is where David gives us the secret.

"Surely," he says, "goodness and mercy shall follow me all

the days of my life." In our English translation, follow is too

soft. In the Hebrew, that word literally means to chase, to hunt,

to pursue with intensity. David is saying God's goodness and

mercy are not strolling behind us.

They are hunting us down with holy determination.

It's typical of every parent who has children.

When a child is racing off out of their protection, we naturally chase after

them, not knowing what has their attention, but knowing that they're in danger, so

we do everything we can to bring them back.

When fear tries to pull us off the path, goodness runs after us.

When temptation tries to lure us away, mercy hunts us down.

When anxiety tries to choke out our joy, pursuing grace

grabs us by the soul and drags us back to safety.

Paul then picks up this theme in Philippians chapter 4.

Philippians 4 · chapter mention

He says, "Do not be anxious about anything." A better translation is

simply have no anxiety. That's not a suggestion, it is

a command. Have no anxiety. Instead, pray.

Instead, give thanks. Instead, lift up your requests to God.

And when we do, the peace of God will guard our hearts

and minds. Guard, not soothe, not comfort,

guard. Paul uses this military term.

It's as if a soldier is standing at the door of your mind,

keeping anxiety out, keeping kingdom confidence in,

and that pursuing grace, grace that refuses to let us fall back

into the darkness that God has pulled us out of.

So preceding grace opens the door, and pursuing grace keeps us from

wandering back out. But there is one moment in the banquet hall, a moment that

every soul must face. Because the king does not simply

prepare the feast, he does not simply protect the guest, he eventually

steps into the room. He inspects, he evaluates,

he searches every face,

and the one question that he is asking above all others, "Did you

put on what I provided?"

That brings us to our final point. Matthew 22 takes a dramatic turn.

The hall is full, the feast is ready, the guests are seated, but when the king

enters, he sees a man who is present, but not transformed.

He is in the right place, but he is wearing the wrong garment.

The king asks him, "Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding garment?"

Notice in your text that this man is speechless. He is not confused.

He is not uninformed. Speechless. Why?

Because in ancient royal custom, the king provided garments at the door.

Just like when we walk in and receive a bulletin, someone would be at the door with

the garment appropriate for the banquet.

So this individual accepted free food and fine wine, but he deliberately

refused to put on the royal garment provided by the host.

He didn't forget it,

he refused it. He wanted the king's table, but without the king's

terms. He wanted kingdom privileges, but without kingdom standards.

He wanted grace without obedience.

And Jesus says the king responds with judgment, "Bind him,

her, hand and foot, and throw him into outer

darkness."

On its face, this looks like cruelty, but it's not.

It is the rightful judgment of a king whose holiness cannot be

mocked, because the garment represents the righteousness of Christ,

death, burial, resurrection, and the transformed life that

flows from true conversion. Paul echoes this in the

Epistle in Philippians 4. He says, "Think about what is true, what is honorable,

what is just, what is pure, what is lovely, what is commendable, and keep

on doing the things that you have learned and received." In other

words, you cannot eat with the king while wearing the rags of your old

life. You cannot claim grace on Sunday and walk in

gossip and compromise and unrepentant sin Monday through

Saturday. The king expects his guests to wear

what he provides. So the question before us is not did we receive the

invitation, not did we enter the hall, not are we seated at the table.

The question is far more urgent. Are you wearing what the

king provided? Are you living the life that rightfully

reflects the king? Because the feast is ready, the king is present, and the

inspection has begun. Family, we have heard the invitation

of grace, felt its protection, and stood beneath the gaze of a

king who inspects. And as we have already prayed the collect

earlier, let us pray it again. Lord, let your grace

always precede and follow us so that we may continually be

given to good works. Walk away today, family, not merely

invited, protected, but transformed, clothed in

what Christ has provided, covered in what he has purchased, and

committed to what it is he commands.

In the name of God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.