Anatomy of Grace
From the Dust Jacket
“Combining lively prose and creative insight, Peter Marty probes the intricacies of daily human experience and invites readers to reconsider their faith lives with fresh eyes. In this collection of reflections from a pastoral heart, Marty takes well-worn religious language from another era and refashions it into powerful speech for the twenty-first-century Christian. His work is both a treatise on living the Christian life well and a stirring reminder of why congregational life matters so significantly in America.”
Through 52 different reflections on grace, one for each week of the year, Peter explores six different expressions for the way grace seems to operate in our world. Serendipitous Grace, Unobtrusive Grace, Ordinary Grace, Surprising Grace, Mysterious Grace, and Weightless Grace form the chapter headings.
Comments on the Anatomy of Grace
“‘Grace is everywhere’” is the final sentence of one of my favorite novels. But ‘everywhere’ is too bland for Peter Marty. He gives us 52 accurately focused verbal photographs of this everywhere present, but often missed glory of God in generous action. Think of The Anatomy of Grace as an illustrated guidebook for gracewatchers.”
Eugene H. Peterson is Professor Emeritus of Spiritual Theology, Regent College, Vancouver
“Peter Marty, who is both a wise pastor and a master teacher, takes the powerful idea of grace and turns it like a diamond in the light, allowing each facet to flash with brilliance. We learn much in this book, and what we learn is deeply moving.”
Thomas G. Long is Bandy Professor of Preaching, Candler School of Theology, Emory University, Atlanta.
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Excerpt from the Anatomy of Grace
“Two weeks ago, my plane landed after midnight at Los Angeles International airport. This was a 24-hour over-and-back deal, just enough time to attend a portion of the National Religious Broadcasters Convention. At the crowded underground pick-up curb, I waved down Blue Super Shuttle no. 859. A large man in a Hawaiian shirt, who could have doubled as a waiter for some Indonesian Island beach café, disappeared with my bag behind the rear tailgate. I climbed into this Ford Econoline van (where I hoped my bag was loaded), dragging my body uncomfortably over several other bodies. This is the peculiar behavior one engages when angling for the one available seat at the rear of a stretch van. It was pitch dark. I counted five heads in front of me.
The Hawaiian Man got behind the wheel and off we went. What possesses one to press the gas pedal all the way to the floor, and swerve between six lanes of virtually grid-locked ground transportation traffic, when all of the cars and vans just 75 feet ahead are at a standstill, I’ll never know. I think it has something to do with intimidating others from trying to beat you to a merge. Come at the driver’s door of another taxi with enough speed to threaten his life, and he’ll back off. The Hawaiian Man had a master’s degree, I determined, in aggressive instinct with brake and accelerator. How else could he repeatedly pull off the same trick every hundred yards? I quickly realized I was trusting the entirety of my life to this guy in a snazzy blue shirt. READ MORE>>