Grace is Personal

Those of you who know me are aware that I'm a huge fan of The Ohio State Buckeyes. (You know I'm a huge fan because I used a capital T in "The.") While football is probably not of much interest to many in the theological space, it can sometimes turn up some interesting metaphors. At the very least, it may remind us that God prepares all things for our good—even the very trivial game of football.

OSU recently played in the Sugar Bowl; leading up to the game, a controversy dubbed "Tatgate" broke, in which it was revealed that several players had sold memorabilia from their time on the team, including championship rings, a sportsmanship award, and the coveted pair of Gold Pants given to players when they beat That Travesty Up North (that is, the University of Michigan).

The ethics of the issue aside (and there's a lot of debate about it), the NCAA determined that a five-game suspension was appropriate for the infraction. Interesting, the organization and the university both decided that the five players involved should be permitted to play in their bowl game (not without a bit of lobbying but the Sugar Bowl representatives, who stood to lose a bit of money if the game turned into a clunker).


Regardless of whether you're a Razorback or a Buckeye on this issue, it's interesting to me to see the dynamic of grace at work here. My thoughts were mixed when I read that the players would be allowed to play in the game; each of them had a significant impact on the outcome, and it's very likely that the game would've ended much differently if they hadn't been allowed to play.

Partisans on both sides lined up to alternately justify or condemn the decision, and neutral parties weighed in with their judgments as well.

I found myself largely on the side of those who felt that the players should not play: if the infractions were worthy of a suspension, than the players should be suspended immediately, not after the bowl game. I think this is a fair and legal interpretation of the situation, whatever the motivations and time frame of the transgressions.

This is a fairly legalistic perspective, and I think it goes to show the nature of law in opposition to grace. We are often eager to deal out judgment when it is writ against others and not ourselves; but when we consider the issue personally, internally, we find that we would rather prefer judgment to be suspended.

Allowing the suspended players to play strikes the point home that grace is personal: it is given to a person over and against the horde of condemners, and against the great Accuser himself. Whatever else the outside world may say, for the recipient of so great a grace, it is a wonder to be forgiven.