"Unfinished: A Meditation on Amazing Grace," Rev. Josh Pawelek, April 13, 2025

Grace

I begin with a heart felt thank you to Mary Bopp and all the musicians who’ve brought us “Amazing Grace” in so many variations this morning. Mary first proposed a service centered around this beloved hymn late last year. I thought it was a great idea, so we started looking for a date. Perhaps we should have wondered if it was wise to offer a big music service the Sunday before our big, annual Easter music service. We didn’t. So you’re encountering a lot of music today and much more beautiful music next Sunday. I hope it all adds to a sense of celebration and wonder for you at this auspicious time of year—this time when spring arrives, when life is fresh and new and green, when eggs and bunnies become visible signs of nature’s enduring and vital creativity, when angels pass over, when sea waters part, when temples are cleansed, when we hear “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do,” when stones roll away from the mouths of tombs amidst cries of “He is risen.” I hope it all brings you joy!

My task is to glean and share spiritual insights in response to “Amazing Grace”—a hymn

Unitarian Universalists generally and genuinely enjoy singing—it’s easy, it’s familiar. But let’s be honest: we balk at the implied theological quid pro quo, the spiritual transaction. Simply stated, in exchange for our heartfelt belief, God, through grace, reaches into our lives and saves us. “How precious did that grace appear, the hour I first believed!” The implication is that we are born sinful, that we are wretches, and something needs to change in us—we need to confess our sins and proclaim our belief; only then is God willing to extend salvific grace to us. Our Universalist forebears would object. I’m generalizing, but they would argue essentially that God’s love, and by extension God’s grace, is every human being’s birthright. It’s not the hour we first believe. It’s the moment of our birth, the moment of our entry into the world, and nothing we do can take that love from us.

Just for fun, I tried writing a few verses of “Amazing Grace” with a more Universalist grounding.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

that sang with my first breath.

It sings when I’m lost, it sings when I’m found.

It will sing to me even in death.

‘Twas grace with me in times of fear,

in times of pain and strife.

How precious has that grace appeared

each moment of my life.

Grace comes with me,’ cross roiling seas

Wherever I may roam

Whatever dangers I may face

With grace I’m ever home.

Amazing Grace how sweet the sound

that called me into the world.

Though fear besets me often these days,

My spirit remains unfurled.

Amazing Grace how sweet the sound

That sang to me at my birth

God’s gifts endure in each of our lives

Let’s do some good on this earth.

They need some work, but I hope the theological difference makes sense.

Here’s the rub: that more traditional theology that demands that we recognize the errors of our ways, confess our sins, plead with God for forgiveness, turn toward and believe in that God who has the power to save us not just in this life but for eternity—that theology makes for a compelling story. I once was lost, but now am found—that’s Moses at the burning bush, Paul on the road to Damascus. It’s every person Jesus heals in the gospel stories: “Your faith has set you free.” It’s Muhammad hearing the angel Gabriel’s voice: “Read!” It’s not quite the Buddha’s story of coming to enlightenment, but there’s some overlap. Think of every book or film you love. How often is the main character lost in some way—broken, wounded, sick, isolated, wandering, wayward, confused, addicted, in pain? Then something happens that sets their life on a new path, that gives them a sense of purpose and resolve, that brings them home … that saves them.

I think this is why a certain story about the author of “Amazing Grace,” John Newton, persists in our culture even though we know it isn’t true. Here’s how Newton biographer, Christine Schaub, tells the story, which she calls a myth:

In March of 1748, “a young and successful John Newton captains yet another slave ship through the Middle Passage, a powerful storm comes up and Newton strikes a bargain with God—save their lives and he'll set all the captives free. God calms the sea, Newton converts to Christianity on the spot and holds up his end of the deal by not only freeing his slaves, but giving up the slave trade forever. He heads back to England, becomes a preacher and spends the rest of his life writing famous songs, like ‘Amazing Grace.’” It’s a powerful, compelling, transformational, lightning-bolt-from-the-sky story. I once was lost, but now am found.

The story of what actually happened is fine, just not as compelling. Newton’s actual transformation took 35 years to come to its full fruition. Schaub says that Newton was sailing not as a captain but “as a passenger on a ship carrying ivory, gold, beeswax...and not a single slave.” It was March of 1748. The ship was caught in a storm. Newton may have prayed. The ship did not sink. It also did not reverse course. Some accounts say that given the damage to the boat they were lucky to make it to Ireland. It was a profound moment in Newton’s life. He looked back on it as the moment of his conversion to Christianity, but his life did not change abruptly. Schaub says it was only after this experience that Newton started working in the slave trade, eventually becoming a slave ship captain. And she says he left slaving due to illness, not conscience. He was ordained as a priest in the Church of England in the mid-1760s. He wrote the original words to “Amazing Grace” in the early 1770s. And it was not until the early 1780s that he became outspoken about the abolition of slavery, 35 years after the storm.

If you’re interested in learning more about Newton’s story, there’s a great article by the music critic and columnist Ian McCann called “Amazing Grace: The Life of a Song,” which references Newton being pressed into the Royal Navy in 1744, then being abandoned in West Africa because he annoyed the crew so much, and then actually being enslaved himself for a few years before being rescued. According to McCann’s research, it was the rescue ship that ran into that fateful storm. I also recommend an article entitled “The Slaver: From Disgrace to Amazing Grace” in Leben: The Journal of Reformation Life, which traces this history in even more detail.

“Amazing Grace” was Newton’s attempt, many years later, to repent for his participation in the slave trade. It was set to music more than 20 times before it settled on the melody of the folk song “New Britain” in 1835, 10 years after his death. It didn’t catch on in England, but it quickly gained popularity in the United States.

Here’s what I think. Regardless of theology, and regardless of what makes for a compelling story, it is very human to feel unfinished. By unfinished I don’t mean lost, though sometimes we are lost and we need to find ourselves, find our path, find our way. I certainly don’t mean sinful, though sometimes we do hurt others and need to make amends, to atone, to say “I’m sorry,” to turn the ship around. And I don’t mean broken, though sometimes we need healing. By unfinished I mean a feeling that there could be something more in our lives, something more to accomplish, some goal, some aim, some purpose we want to achieve, some good we want to make happen on this earth.

By unfinished I mean a longing, a hunger, a yearning, even a restlessness. It may be there is some aspect of ourselves we feel needs improvement: something about the way we move through the world, the way we relate to others, the way we live, the way we experience ourselves internally, the way others experience us—something about us that could be different, could be more developed, could feel more complete, more resolved, more finished. I suspect if I asked you to contemplate for a moment some aspect or feature of your life that feels unfinished, some part of you you’re working on, some improvement you aspire to make, it won’t take long for you to come up with a few examples. In my experience, everyone is working on something or, in the very least, is aware of something they ought to be working on. Even people at the very end of their lives will report feeling unfinished in some way, perhaps identifying some work they’d like to see carried on after their death. There’s nothing tragic about this feeling at the end of life. I’m not sure anyone is ever truly finished. Again, I think it’s very human to feel unfinished.

Stories—and theologies—that give us the answer to our longing in a flash—a burning bush, a blinding light, a leper healed, a ship saved at sea, a soul at sea saved—are very satisfying, very moving, and often quite inspirational. Certainly we need inspirational stories in our lives. But in truth those flashes, those burning bushes, those ships saved at sea, those moments of lightning-bolt-from-heaven-transformation are very, very rare. More often than not, change comes slowly, incrementally, in fits and starts. Sometimes we don’t even realize we’re changing until we’re in a position to reflect on our lives and realize we aren’t who we used to be. But there’s still more to do.

For me, “Amazing Grace” is aspirational and cyclical. I sing it knowing each of us is, in fact, unfinished, and to some extent we always will be. The song expresses a deep and very natural longing: to be found when we are lost, to be healed when we are ill, to be saved when we are in danger, to be comforted in our fear, to be held in our grief, to be made whole in the midst of our brokenness. And these experiences cycle through our lives. We aren’t saved once into a perfect existence. We are saved again and again and again in a multitude of different ways.

So I’m not waiting for God to accept my application for grace and then reach in to my life to save me. I don’t believe that way. I’m a Universalist. I say a divine love lives at the heart of creation and bestows unconditional grace on every living creature on this planet. In my view, the central task of our spiritual lives is not to receive this grace in our hour of greatest need, but to remember every day that it is already with us, already within us; and we can respond with gratitude, with creativity, with care for others, with care for the world, indeed, with a deep and abiding love. The challenge is that there are infinite ways to respond. Perhaps that’s the reason we never quite feel finished. No life is long enough to respond fully to this amazing grace. But with the life we have, we try.

Amazing Grace how sweet this gift

My guide along the way

In response, I strive to love 

Each and every day.

Amen and blessed be.