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We don’t usually put the words “shrewd” and “grace” together. They aren’t compatible. Rather, they are opposed in character, each carrying its own connotations that divide them into separate categories. The word “shrewd” rolls off the tongue; its sharp sound reflects the closed-off, incisive nature it evokes. Whereas the word “grace” caresses the mouth—it’s gentler, softer and flows through the air, offering reassurance. Yet, when you piece those words together, a powerful concept emerges that penetrates the soul and allows God’s love to move. This grace is active, engaging and dynamic. Shrewd grace is God’s love in motion; it’s a grace that doesn’t sit quietly but instead engages the world as it is.
Shrewd grace is both tender and clever, practical, and resourceful enough to navigate and move through this messy, unjust, broken world. It’s the firm and yet compassionate, wise grace that asks one, “How can love make a difference in this situation despite the predicament?” Shrewd grace is bold. It takes our talents and gifts, then puts them to work for God’s kin-dom. It loves deeply beyond depths, sees sharply and acts astutely.
Christ dares us to hold both the sharpness of shrewdness and the gentleness of grace side by side.
One can easily wag a finger at and condemn the stark stories of the dishonest manager in the Gospel of Luke and Jesus with a woman caught in adultery in the Gospel of John. How many times have we effortlessly been the one at the end of the finger, wagging it at those we deemed as wrongdoers, unwilling to help but judge? Or have even been the culprits, intentionally choosing transgressions over transformation, hiding behind ease and excuses. Yet, Jesus doesn’t condemn or judge either situation—he extends shrewd grace. Not one of meekness, but one which disarms devilish deviances that steer us away from God’s direction. This direction allows us to be transformed.
Look at the transformation led by God in the healing relationship of Jacob and Esau in Genesis. For decades jealousy consumed the brothers, hatred hardened their hearts and ill contempt tore them apart. Until God gave them reconciliation, hatred may have driven them together that day, but love mended their heart in the form of an embrace that enveloped them. Everything changes when God steps in and disarms us.
The paradox Jesus sets before us is that God’s grace is not only tender but also shrewd. And maybe it’s not a contradiction at all but the grace we need in the world around us. We may be embarking on a new year, but the world is still broken. There are people who are still ignored, hurt, beaten down by societal standards, and who find comfort in complacency. It’s tempting to separate ourselves and look down, blindly ignoring those who are hurting, holding on to our righteous indignation because we are right. It’s easy to walk around with our biases, blame and battle wounds, but God calls us to let them go.
Then we can see life differently in a lens that is both boundless and bounded. This embodiment appears to be forgiveness, but it also sets boundaries to secure one’s safety. Grace is not weak but powerful. It offers not only assistance but resources to help individuals thrive. It’s easy to give money, but it’s another thing to teach them how to manage it. Simply giving can be fleeting, but to give from love takes root, forms and grows. It can shape a person into who God calls us to be—a people who are led to the power of God’s healing faith in an assembly that cares for one another lovingly and mercifully. It’s both giving generously when you’re able to share, showing restraint, and then teaching how to be economical and conscious. It’s a reconciliation with established parameters of protection. Setting boundaries of reconciliation that don’t cause further harm. God doesn’t desire us to be in places or situations that harm us, but to be loved and protected. It’s forgiving but not forgetting; it balances both mercy and forgiveness, then allows God to equip us through the tension to the resolution. Ultimately, it allows us not to see the hurt and pain or the wrongdoing but the person, our siblings in Christ.
When we embrace shrewd grace, we begin to see both the beauty and complexity in every person and predicament. We learn to hold truth and compassion together, responding with love that is both wise and courageous. This kind of grace is not passive, weak or timid but active, brave and discerning. This concept challenges us to set boundaries that protect, to forgive without forgetting and to care for others. This is the kind of grace that Christ entrusts to us, a grace the world desperately needs right now. Shrewd grace is not just a word—it’s a way to live in a longing world.
