In a world addicted to outrage, an act of radical grace can sound almost unthinkable.
We’re stuck in an economy of retribution. We have a culture of vengeance and anxiety and spiraling distrust that’s bearing evil, tragic fruit: a rise in political violence.
Unfortunately, more and more people seem to think political violence is necessary to get America “back on track.” But there’s plenty of evidence that most do not agree — many are deeply concerned that political violence is becoming more prevalent.
The solution to endless cycles of retaliation can only be found in radical gestures of grace and forgiveness. Recently, a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints raised over $300,000 to support the family of the man who burned down their church and murdered fellow believers.
To most people — especially today — that probably sounds insane. To me, it sounds like the purest form of faith in action.
What that man did was not a gesture of weakness; it was an act of moral courage. He didn’t excuse evil. He conquered it by denying it the power to reproduce itself. He refused to let hate dictate the terms of his response. That is strength of the highest order.
Too many of us believe that justice is achieved only through punishment. But punishment alone can’t restore what’s been broken. Redemption begins not in the courtroom but in the human heart. Grace doesn’t cancel accountability; it transcends it. It declares that no person, no family, no community is beyond the reach of God’s redemptive power.
The man who raised that money didn’t perform a charitable act; he staged a moral rebellion.
In a culture obsessed with vengeance and retribution, he showed that mercy is the most defiant force on Earth. It’s easy to love the lovable, to forgive those who apologize. But grace becomes divine when it is extended to those who deserve it least.
That same radical grace runs through the veins of Black history. In the Woodson Center’s 1776 Unites curriculum, we tell the story of Robert Smalls, a man born enslaved in South Carolina. During the Civil War, Smalls risked his life to seize a Confederate supply ship and deliver it to the Union Navy. After the war, he became a wealthy businessman and purchased the very plantation where he had once been enslaved.
Years later, when he discovered that the former master’s widow was living in poverty and suffering from dementia, Smalls did something the world would never expect: he allowed her to live out her days in that same home under his protection.
Think about that: A man who had every reason to hate, every justification for revenge, instead chose mercy.
That is not weakness. That is moral strength, the kind that builds nations rather than burns them down. Robert Smalls didn’t just liberate himself from slavery; he liberated his soul from bitterness. Like Joseph in Egypt, he rose above betrayal and turned pain into purpose.
This happens on an individual level and on a corporate level as well. The families of those Dylann Roof gunned down in an act of racial hatred — while they sat together in church one morning — chose to publicly forgive Roof.
They could have chosen anger, resentment and bitterness. But they said Jesus called them to forgiveness, and that He helped them answer that call. and that He helped them answer that call.
That same spirit of grace and redemption lives today in the work of the affiliates supported by the Woodson Center. Every day, we see men and women in the most distressed communities turning away from despair and choosing hope. They’re breaking generational cycles of crime, addiction and resentment by extending grace first to themselves and then to others.
The spirit that moved Robert Smalls to forgive, that moved one church member to help the family of his enemy and that moved the church targeted by Dylann Roof is the same spirit we nurture in America’s forgotten neighborhoods. It’s the belief that transformation is possible that no one is beyond redemption when love and accountability walk hand in hand.
Because at the end of the day, it’s not power or punishment that rebuilds broken souls; it’s grace. And when grace takes root, it changes everything.