Two Blades of Grace.

 “The Two Blades of Grace”

I want to draw your heart toward a truth that C.S. Lewis handled with his usual clarity and quiet brilliance, in his book, “Mere Christianity.” He once explained that the Christian life is not a debate between faith and action, as though one must win and the other lose. Instead, he likened them to a pair of scissors—two blades forged for a single purpose. One blade alone cannot cut; both must move together.  

In the same way, faith in Christ is the living blade, bright with His grace, and good works are the answering blade, moving in harmony. Faith is the spark; action is the flame. Faith is the root; action is the fruit. Faith is the hand that receives; action is the hand that gives.  

But Lewis is careful—and Scripture is clearer still—that the order matters. Good actions do not create faith, but faith inevitably creates good actions. Works may glitter, but without faith they cannot pierce the darkness of sin or self. Spurgeon would say that no man ever carved holiness out of his own virtue; the steel of our deeds is dull until Christ Himself sharpens it.  

The apostle Paul speaks to this mystery with beautiful simplicity: “For by grace you have been saved through faith… not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” (Ephesians 2:8–9)

Faith is the doorway, the beginning, the blade that moves first. And yet, Paul does not stop there. He continues: “For we are His workmanship… created in Christ Jesus for good works.” (Ephesians 2:10)

There it is—the second blade. Works do not save us, but they surely follow us. They are not the cause of our salvation, but they are the consequence of it. When Christ grips the heart, the hands cannot help but follow.  

And this brings us to the Communion Table. Communion is not a ceremony for those who have performed well this week. It is not a reward for spiritual achievement. It is not a medal for moral success. Communion is the meal of grace—the place where faith begins again, where hearts are softened again, where Christ’s mercy is tasted again.  

Swindoll would remind us that good actions are not the ladder we climb to reach God; they are the footprints left behind when God has already reached us. Communion is proof that He has reached us. The bread and the cup declare that Christ has already acted, already moved, already given Himself for us.  

So come this morning with the blade of faith—simple, honest, uncluttered. Bring your weakness, your weariness, your unfinished places. Christ does not ask you to cut through life with your own strength. He asks you to trust Him. And when you trust Him, the second blade—the blade of action—will follow in its time, in His strength, and with His grace.  

It’s in communion where faith is fed. At this Table, works are born. At this Table, Christ meets us not with demands but with Himself. Come to the One who saves by grace, the One who shapes your life into good works. Come to the Lord who holds both blades in His nail‑scarred hands and take now, that which is offered in the eating of the bread and drinking of the blood; put your hand in His, the hand in which the blade lies at the ready. Meet with His handheld blade that you and He might work together today.  

Amen.