Grace reigns.
Be that my motto.
“Grace reigns. Be that my motto. As my case will be a signal exemplification of its reigning power, if I am found at last among the ‘more than conquerors’, as I trust I shall be.
I long for a retired walk among the woods, closes, hedgerows where I might hear no noise but the baaing of lambs, and the singing of blackbirds. But here I must be. I must hear the rumbling of wheels, and have to force my way through a crowd from morning to night.
No matter, if it be way to heaven, the end will make amends for all.”
—John Newton1
Earlier in this letter, Newton listed his numerous vocational commitments and noted how he is seldom alone at home. Refreshingly, Newton doesn’t indulge complaints. Far from it, in fact. Reading his account of work is quite moving, filled with warmth for the people he encounters and a thoughtful, livening reflection on his work.
He knows that the relationally and vocationally full life for the Christian isn’t a pathway to self-actualization where one is the master of their destiny, where the aim is self-fulfillment. He bows neither to the cultural idols of a “simpler life” nor is he seeking to fine-tune, optimize every hour in an attempt to do it all.2 Instead, we see him walking a joy-filled road of receiving the time (and all that comes with it) that God has given him.3
He accepts the wearying contours of a poured-out life without making himself a martyr or messiah. And the two statements that arise from this account are simple: “Grace reigns” and “Here I must be.”
Those two phrases have become sort of mantras for me in my life. My days are markedly different than Newton’s in some ways. And yet, they’re also strangely similar. A life filled with caring for the people God has put in my life, stewarding my vocational duties, and attending the needs of my household and community.4
Earlier in this letter while describing his full days, Newton writes that “The Lord supplies. He adapts his goodness to our circumstances.”5
I hope Newton had an occasional opportunity to leave London and walk in the woods among the hedge rows and hear baaing lambs and singing blackbirds. I’d be surely shocked if he didn’t take seriously the commandment to keep the Sabbath holy. I believe there’s a biblical call to self-stewardship, and that certainly can look like seeking out things that bring us joy.
But in a culture that idealizes and idolizes controlling our lives versus receiving them as servants of our Creator, Newton’s words above are a bit jarring, certainly convicting, brimming with courage.
Life live amidst the rumbling wheels and the crowds are not devoid of God’s grace and goodness. Whatever your or my rumbling wheels and crowds might be, may our eyes (like Newton’s) be ready for the grace and goodness provided for the day, with our vision set on heaven, where that grace and goodness will be abounding beyond measure.
That end will surely make amends for all I would like, but that I willingly put aside to follow our Lord amidst noise and chaos.
Here I must be, making my pilgrimage heavenward, to Zion, the city of God.
I wayfare by grace, praying and trusting all the way that my life signals its reigning power.
Grant Gordon, ed., Wise Counsel: John Newton’s Letters to John Ryland Jr. (Edinburgh: The Banner of Truth Trust, 2009), 145. Paragraph breaks are mine.
Obviously, these are modern ideas, so this is merely an attempt to let Newton’s life read our times.
a concept my friend Jen Pollock Michel has helped me understand in her book “In Good Time.”
Though Newton and his wife, Mary, had no biological children, they deeply cared for (in apparently counter-cultural ways) for the servants in their home, one whom was named, Phoebe. If you know me, you know why that little fact is special in my life. They also provided a home for extended family members and were deeply invested in the care of William Cowper during his long illness. Newton’s household wasn’t consumed with small children like mine, but was nonetheless full.
Grant Gordon, ed., Wise Counsel: John Newton’s Letters to John Ryland Jr. (Edinburgh: The Banner of Truth Trust, 2009), 145.
More of these, Abby! Thanks for giving us light into Newton's faith in the midst of real life.
My version of “Here I must be” is Pádraig Ó Tuama’s “Hello to here.” The “hello” in this phrase is welcoming or inviting (to me), even when circumstances are not. It’s an “Okay God, let’s do this. Glad you’re with me.”