Grace. There is a word for you.

Is it a word for Jim Joyce? You know the story: the previously anonymous Armando Galarraga was on the verge of pitching a perfect game for the Detroit Tigers. The final play for the final out was close at first base – except that it was not close. Even the most baseball-ignorant among us could see that the runner was out. But umpire Joyce called him safe.

Good-bye, perfect game. Good-bye, history. Good-bye, much fame and more fortune for young Mr. Galarraga. He won the game, but it was not much of a celebration.

Joyce’s response? He confessed he blew it. He cried and confessed he blew it. Then he confessed it again and cried again.

I like these stories, because they reveal our humanity – both in the initial action (he blew the call), and in the resulting reactions (we opine about the call).

So how did we do, and how should we have done, with Jim Joyce?

Electronic responses to news stories are enlightening and painful – enlightening because we see the nature of people, and painful because of what we tend to see. In Joyce’s case, I saw some nice support, but I also noticed this word: “inexcusable.”

What does grace have to do with this? We throw the word around a lot. We even give the name to female babies. But have we a clue what it means?

Grace is not, “Nothing matters.” We live in a world that does matter, and even if you have no particular passion for baseball or the Detroit Tigers, it does matter that umpires get calls right. It also matters that bankers make wise decisions, husbands and wives love each other faithfully, and children tell the truth.

Grace says, “This does matter.” We live in a world of immorality and morality, and grace fully acknowledges the bitterness of accidental and intentional wrongdoing.

But while grace says, “This does matter,” grace also says, “This matter is over.” It is forgiven. It will not continue to disrupt and destroy this relationship.

Yes, there is a place for justice. Because this matters, sometimes this matter may only be over when punishment occurs.

Yes, the confessing and crying helped Jim Joyce. Defiance disrupts a free flow of grace.

But I am thinking less of governments, and more of people. How do you and I respond to Jim Joyce? He confessed the error of his call. He displayed a desire to do better. Why would we call that “inexcusable”?

Because we want to receive grace, yet we want to withhold grace. We prefer mercy for me, and justice for you. But that bends and breaks our world, and our lives.

To his credit, Armando Galarraga seems to have shown grace to the man who bungled his glory. It was heartening to see him gently pat Joyce on the back during the pre-game exchange of lineup cards the next day.

As for me and my heart, the hairs get grayer, and the past gets longer. I daily find new ways to accidentally and intentionally fail. I need grace. But not just to get. To give.

And I am far from alone.

Tom Stein (Junior) is a PCA minister serving as pastor of Christ Presbyterian Church in Richmond, Indiana