The Reaching God

In the Sistine Chapel, millions of visitors crane their necks each year to see Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam, painted between 1508 and 1512. Most people remember the two famous fingers nearly touching. But look more carefully at what Michelangelo actually painted, and you will see a sermon on grace.

God is not sitting passively on His throne. He is surging forward, surrounded by angels, His arm fully extended, every muscle straining toward Adam. His eyes are locked on the man with fierce tenderness. His whole body leans into the reach.

Now look at Adam. He reclines on the earth, relaxed, his arm draped loosely over his knee. His finger is lifted, but barely. There is no effort in him, no urgency. He is not climbing toward heaven. He is not earning the touch.

The entire energy of the painting flows in one direction — from God toward humanity.

Michelangelo understood something that theologians have argued about for centuries but that scripture states plainly. Grace is not a cooperative effort. It is not God meeting us halfway. Paul wrote to the Ephesians, "It is by grace you have been saved, through faith — and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God."

The gap between those two fingers is the gospel. We did not close it. We could not close it. The Almighty leaned out of heaven and closed it for us. That is grace — not our reach, but His.