Tis the season for buzzer-beaters. And if the conference tourneys leading into the NCAA tournament are any indication, we’re in for a month of buzzer-beater madness. Whether or not you are a sports fan, there are few things more thrilling than when a player from the team down by one or two heaves from half-court a ball that finds its way through the net, with the buzzer blaring at mid arc, and nothing but zeros left showing on the clock. The trailing team is now the winner. Pure exuberance, and often a storming of the court, ensues.
It seems, then, that this a good time to think about buzzer-beater grace.
You’ve probably heard the phrase “deathbed conversion,” a phrase used to describe someone making a profession of faith while near death. In essence, beating the buzzer. The phrase is often employed when that someone lived a life that would likely be described as not of faith, especially someone of note. It’s been reported (and debated) that evolutionist Charles Darwin had a deathbed conversion. You may have recently read of vocal atheist Christopher Hitchens saying, while battling terminal cancer, that if we were to hear reports of his deathbed conversion, that we are not to believe them. He passed away in 2011 and yes, there were reports of a deathbed conversion (denied by his wife). A noteworthy deathbed conversion that actually did happen was that of actor John Wayne who passed away just two days after meeting with a priest, having professed throughout his adult life that he’d be a “cardiac Catholic.”
And then there’s the most famous “buzzer-beater” conversion, the thief on the cross beside Jesus.
The eleventh hour conversion brings up many thoughts, the most cynical being, “You mean I live my whole life trying to be an obedient believer but this dude converts at the last minute and gets the same reward I’ll get?” Here’s the thing about buzzer-beater grace: it not only teaches us a lot about grace, but it shows us whether we personally understand grace.
You may recall the parable of the laborers (Matthew 20) in which the master of the house hires laborers throughout the day to work in his vineyard, hiring people early in the morning and into the eleventh hour (which is where we get the phrase, “the eleventh hour”). At the end of the day, everybody gets paid the same wage: those who worked all day were paid the same as those who worked one hour.
Naturally, the all-day workers complained. And, on paper, it seems terribly unfair. But the master of the house reminds the all-day workers, and us, that they agreed to their wage. Jesus used the parable to point out the ridiculous nature of grace. As we read this parable from our perspective today, we need to leave that parable feeling exuberance for the eleventh-hour workers. If we find ourselves feeling less than exuberant for them, and even slightly sympathetic for the all-day workers, we may not understand grace.
Grace is that good. The caveat of “too good to be true” does not apply. Grace is too good. And it is very true. Jesus used the parable of the laborers to explain the nature of His kingdom, a kingdom that welcomes all with equal reward, whether lifelong followers or those who swished through with no time left on the clock.
[Check out this FREE SESSION on Psalm 51, a great account of “comeback grace” if we may keep pushing the March Madness analogies.]