Thesis 08: True Grace: The Trinitarian Gift of Union, Identity, and Transformation
There is a tension in today’s Church surrounding the message of grace — a tension born from centuries of distortion. On one hand, grace is preached as a blanket of tolerance, excusing any lifestyle and claiming divine cover. On the other, it is presented as a conditional system of merit, where obedience earns and maintains favor with God. Both are equally distant from the true gospel. The early Church did not speak of grace as a transaction or as permission, but as participation — a real, relational, and transformative sharing in the very life of the Triune God.
From the beginning, the early Church Fathers like Irenaeus and Athanasius understood that grace is not a thing God gives apart from Himself, but rather, grace is God giving Himself — the Father sending the Son, and the Son pouring out the Spirit, so that we might be drawn into the love-union that exists within Abba. Grace is the empowering presence of Jesus Christ, sent by the Father and made real to us by the Holy Spirit, so that we might live in unbroken union, permanent identity, and continual transformation.
This union is not feeble that it’s dismantled by our self-efforts, nor achieved by our merit.
As Paul wrote to the Galatians, even in their confusion and compromise, “Deep in my heart I have confidence that the Lord, who lives in you, will bring you back around to the truth” (Gal. 5:10 TPT). Paul expresses two earth-shattering truths here. The first is that they already had Christ living within them. The other thing he mentioned was what brought it home. That the Lord would bring them back around to the truth. And that truth is our permanent union with Christ, from which our identity flows and in which our transformation takes place. We are not saved by grace to remain unchanged; we are saved into sonship — holy, righteous, and empowered to reflect the nature of the One who now lives within us.
The contrast is sharp: where later religion reduced grace to a spiritual substance dispensed through performance, the apostolic and patristic witness sees grace as the Father’s relational gift — Christ in us, the hope of glory. False grace says, “Live as you wish, and God will overlook it.” True grace says, “You are no longer who you were. Live as a son, because you now share in the life of the Son.”
In this thesis, I propose that the recovery of a Trinitarian understanding of grace is essential to restoring the Church’s identity, power, and holiness. Grace is not merely unmerited favor — it is the empowering presence of God Himself, leading us out of a lifestyle of sin (distortion) and into sonship, not by effort but by union. To rediscover true grace is to rediscover the gospel itself — the good news that we are not only forgiven but filled, not only pardoned but perfected, not only restored but in God who calls us sons.
The Crisis and Recovery of Grace
The Church today stands at a crossroads in her understanding of grace. On one side lies a message that promotes permissiveness — grace as a divine loophole for self-will. On the other, a lingering shadow of legalism — grace as a merit-based system, earned by obedience and lost by failure. Both distortions, though opposite in appearance, share acommon flaw: they disconnect grace from the very nature of God Himself. In doing so, they rob the Church of her power, identity, and joy.
Yet Scripture reveals that grace is not merely a doctrine to debate, but a Person to encounter — the very presence of the Triune God drawing humanity into union, identity, and transformation. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory... full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). Grace is embodied in Jesus Himself, the Son sent by the Father and made real to us by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. As Paul declared, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). True grace is not a passive pardon or an abstract credit. It is Christ in us, empowering us to live as sons and daughters — righteous, holy, and free.
This was the understanding of the early Church. For theologians like Irenaeus and Athanasius, salvation was not the appeasement of a wrathful deity, but the healing of humanity through participation in divine life. Athanasius boldly summarized the gospel this way: “God became man so that man might become god” — not in essence, but in fellowship, in likeness, in love (cf. 2 Peter 1:4, “partakers of the divine nature”). Grace, for them, was the means by which the believer entered the life of the Trinity, not simply escaping judgment, but being conformed to the image of Christ (Romans 8:29).
In contrast, much of medieval theology introduced a transactional framework: grace as merit, salvation as satisfaction, holiness as achievement. Though attempting to explain divine justice, this framework replaced relationship with performance and intimacy with obligation. The result was a grace no longer rooted in communion but in calculation — no longer God’s empowering presence, but a system to be maintained. Paul warned the Galatians of this very drift: “Are you so foolish? Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?” (Galatians 3:3). He reminded them that “the Lord, who lives in you, will bring you back around to the truth” (Galatians 5:10, TPT), for grace is not earned — it is revealed.
In this thesis I seek to reclaim a Trinitarian vision of grace — one in which the Father’s love (Romans 5:8), the Son’s union with us (Colossians 1:27), and the Spirit’s empowerment (Romans 8:11–16) form the bedrock of our identity and holiness. The grace that saves also sanctifies: “For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness... and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age” (Titus 2:11–12).
Grace as the Life of the Trinity
Grace cannot be understood apart from the Trinity. The Father, who "chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world" (Ephesians 1:4), sent the Son not merely to atone, but to establish a restored union. Jesus reveals that grace is relational, not theoretical: "I am in the Father and you are in me, and I am in you" (John 14:20). This mutual indwelling is the very heart of salvation.
The Holy Spirit, poured into our hearts (Romans 5:5), is the very Spirit of adoption by whom we cry, "Abba, Father" (Romans 8:15). Grace, then, is not simply the removal of guilt, but the restoration of family. We are not only justified but joined. Not just cleansed, but claimed.
Union, Not Permission
Many today mistake grace for leniency. But grace does not lower the standard — it raises us into a new nature. "Shall we continue in sin so that grace may abound? Certainly not! How can we who died to sin still live in it?" (Romans 6:1–2). Grace calls us into alignment with who we truly are. It is the divine power that enables us to say no to sin, not the divine excuse for indulging in it. This sin that I speak of is not behavior, but sin as a distorted identity. You manifest what you believe about yourself.
This is why Paul could write with such confidence to the confused Galatians, "Deep in my heart I have confidence that the Lord, who lives in you, will bring you back around to the truth" (Galatians 5:10, TPT). Paul unveils two earth-shaking revelations: First, Christ was already alive within them—present, not distant. But then he says something even more grounding: The Lord Himself would bring them back to the truth.No matter how confused we’ve become about the gospel, or how lost we may feel in the far-off country of striving and self-reliance, Abba does not abandon His own. He gently leads us back—not with shame, but with love—to the truth of our unbreakable union with Him.
It is in this union that grace finds its voice and sonship finds its rest. Grace is relentless. It pursues us not to excuse our dysfunction, but to awaken us to our identity. As the prodigal son was not merely forgiven but restored to his father’s embrace, so grace is always calling us home.
The Recovery of True Grace
To recover the true meaning of grace is to recover the gospel itself. The gospel is not simply the announcement that we are forgiven, but that we have always been. Grace is not an event. It is an ongoing encounter with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, drawing us deeper into our original design as sons and daughters of God.
I have now traced the crisis and recovery of grace, showing how a transactional model diluted the relational, participatory nature of salvation revealed in Scripture and embraced by the early Church. What follows will unpack the implications of grace for our identity and wholeness
Grace is not permission to live how we desire. It is the power to live as Jesus lived. And Jesus lived as a beloved Son, in perfect union with the Father and filled with the Spirit. So must we.
If grace is the Triune God giving Himself to us, then union with Christ is the way grace becomes embodied, personal, and transformative. Grace is some distant kindness we feel — it is the very presence of Jesus, dwelling within us by the Spirit. We are no longer associated with a life that is directed by the rule of the law. As Paul said, “I have been crucified with Christ...” Francois du’ Toit so eloquently says that the moment one exchanges spontaneity with rules, the edge of romance is compromised. It’s an insult to the grace of God that we would prefer rules over relationship, to choose separation over union.
This is grace: God’s life shared with us, not just for us, but in us.
Grace is not only how we are saved, but how we live — not just the entry point into fellowship with Abba, but the continual flow of divine power, identity, and communion. “He is the source of our completeness. Everyone may now realize their own completeness as evidenced in him. This is grace mirrored in grace” (John 1:16). Through union, grace moves from concept to communion; from theory to transformation. Grace communicates that we no longer have to seek completeness when it reveals it.
We are not merely recipients of divine favor — we are participants in divine fellowship. Now, I will explore how grace, as union with Christ, redefines how we understand salvation, identity, and the Christian life itself — not as something we work for, but something we live from.
This union is the deepest expression of grace — not merely the gift of forgiveness, but the gift of shared life. To be united with Christ is to be brought into His own relationship with the Father, not as servants trying to please God, but as sons and daughters who already
share His delight. “For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:3).
This is the miracle of grace: not just that we are accepted, but that we are included, chosen — placed inside the Son, so that what is true of Him is indeed true of us. His righteousness becomes our righteousness (2 Corinthians 5:21), His union becomes our union, and His Spirit becomes our source of strength. Grace does not leave us outside, forgiven but still distant. Grace brings us all the way in — into union, into intimacy, into the very fellowship of the Trinity. And because of this union, grace is not something we occasionally experience; it is the Christological air we now breathe.
This is why the early Church never separated grace from participation. For them, grace was not a spiritual substance or a moral covering — it was the divine embrace, drawing humanity into Abba’s own life. Athanasius boldly declared, “The Son of God became man so that we might become God,” echoing Peter’s words that we are now “partakers of the divine nature” (2 Peter 1:4).
Grace is not a transaction between God and humanity; it is a transformation that occurs within relationship. It is not given from a distance but from within — from Christ, who now lives in us and invites us to share in His obedience, His joy, and His holiness. The grace that saved us did not merely wash us clean — it joined us to the One who is the source of life, so that our salvation would be sustained not by our effort, but through irrevocable union.
To be united with Christ by grace is to receive a new identity — not earned, but inherited. Grace does not simply improve who we were; it replaces who we were with who Christ is. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has passed away, behold, the new has come” (2 Corinthians 5:17). This is not poetic language — it is spiritual reality. In union with Jesus, we are no longer defined by our past, our struggles, or even our best efforts. We are defined by His life within us. Grace anchors us in sonship, not performance. “You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:26).
This identity is not fragile or fluctuating. It does not rise and fall with behavior — it rests in the permanence of Christ’s finished work. Grace speaks a better word over us: You are My beloved, in whom I am well pleased (Matthew 3:17). In this way, union by grace is not just about what we’ve been rescued from — it’s about waking up to who we’ve always been in Him.
Grace That Transforms: Living Holy from Union, Not Obligation
Grace empowers holiness not by performance, but by presence. The same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead now lives in us (Romans 8:11), not merely as a moral compass, but as the instigator to living as a son. Holiness, then, is not managing behavior — it is more so a relational alignment with Christ in us. As we yield to the Spirit, we aren’t avoiding sin; we begin to live out of the blueprint of our design.Grace is not an external command demanding your effort; it is the indwelling Presence of God Himself. It doesn’t shout from a distance—it whispers from within, forming in you the very obedience of Jesus.
This is not behavior modification, but union—Christ living His life in you, by the Spirit, to the pleasure of the Father.
This is why true grace always leads to transformation. It is not soft on sin — it’s defeated sin and death. The law could tell us what not to do, but grace enables us to live out of our pre-designed intention as sons. Grace empowers us to love those who hate us, forgive those who wrong us, and remain rooted in peace when the world is in chaos. Why? Because we are not drawing from our own strength — we are drawing from Christ’s life within. His holiness is our holiness, not by imitation, but by participation. As we Live in union with Him, fruitfulness becomes inevitable (John 15:5).
Grace, then, is not a passive covering for our failure. It is the active presence of Jesus conforming us to His image, moment by moment, day by day, from glory to glory (2 Corinthians 3:18). Holiness is no longer the condition for closeness with God — it is the consequence of being already in, already clean, already His, already whole and already accepted.
Union with Christ is not the end of grace — it is the beginning of deeper fellowship, a never-ending journey of discovering how Abba feels about us. The same grace that reveals our identity in Christ also ushers us into communion with the Father and the Spirit, drawing us into the eternal relationship from which grace flows. We are not merely connected to Christ in isolation; we are brought into the shared life of the Trinity — welcomed into the very household of God.
“Because of Christ both Jew and Gentile now enjoy equal access to the Father in one Spirit” (Ephesians 2:18 Mirror Bible). Grace is what empowers holy living — it awakens us to a life of relational intimacy, where obedience is not obligation, but overflow from knowing how Abba feels about us. Grace, as the love of the Father, the indwelling of the Son, and the fellowship of the Spirit, becomes the foundation for spiritual maturity. Grace is not the beginning of the Christian life; it is the entire environment in which we grow up into mature sons.
The Father is the fountain of all grace — the One who chose us in love before the foundation of the world (Ephesians 1:4–5). His grace is not cold or abstract; it is deeply paternal. He does not tolerate us as religion would exclaim — He delights in us. Grace restores the echo of Abba in the heart of the believer, where fear once ruled. “You have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’” (Romans 8:15).
The Son, Jesus Christ, is grace incarnate — the visible image of the invisible God, who lived the life we could not and gave Himself to bring us home (back to our right minds concerning his Father). But He did more than die for us — He lives in us, sharing His own relationship with the Father so that we might call God “Father” the way He does. And the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of grace, is the One who makes this relational reality experiential.
He does not merely instruct us — He lives within us. He leads us into all truth, reminds us of our identity, and conforms us to the image of the Son (Romans 8:29; John 14:26). In this way, grace is not passive— it is the dynamic flow of God’s love, forming us in the very image of divine fellowship. True grace is not a doctrine to defend or a benefit to earn — it is the very life of the Triune God shared with us. It does not forgive and remove sin; it re-parents identity. It does not make room for compromise; it makes way for communion. It is not content to rescue us from something, but for something; it insists on restoring us to Someone. In grace we are swept into the joy of sonship. We no longer live to attain holiness; we live from the Holy One within.
This is the scandal and simplicity of the gospel of grace: That everything humanity was striving to become, Christ became for us. And everything we feared disqualified us, He bore within Himself—so that now, apart from our efforts, we are welcomed, loved, and made whole.
Let the Church rise again in the revelation that grace is not cheap — it is costly, because it cost God nothing less than Himself. But it is also freely given, because it flows from the One who is always giving. In a world bent toward performance and pretending, may we return to the divine embrace that defines us — the Father who calls us beloved, the Son who lives His life in us, and the Spirit who forms us into glory. This is the grace that transforms. This is the gospel we were born for. This is the life we now live — not by striving, but by abiding. Not by effort, but by union. Not by religion, but by love.
