It’s the key question any author has to answer: What was it about this project that warranted so much time and attention? Why this book, which is out today, and not another? Why this book, period?
A couple of perfunctory reasons spring to mind. First, proud as I am of Low Anthropology, it was also a bit of a downer. A constructive downer, sure — in the service of hope — but a downer nonetheless. After talking about limitation and sin for 18 months, I felt the need, creatively as well as spiritually, to shift gears in a more uplifting direction. Grace is the most uplifting subject I know of.
Grace has also been Mockingbird’s chief preoccupation since day one. Our single favorite word! I figured it would be expedient for the organization if I put something together that mined our work on the topic in an accessible way.
It would also be a help to me personally. When I’m at a party and a stranger asks me what I do for living, I usually say I work for an organization that explores the intersection of grace and culture. Invariably they’re curious about what I mean by ‘grace’; it’ll be nice to have a short book to direct them toward, something with contemporary language and reference points that doesn’t presume too much knowledge of Christianity.
Then there are the real reasons I wrote this book, which are riskier to admit. I’ve always suspected that any author who says they’re not writing to themselves on some level isn’t telling the truth. Yes, you write the book you want to see in the world, but its content is never accidental. Put another way, if I’m not hungry for the message I’m trying to convey, why would anyone else be? The material has to grab me by the guts, which this does.
When I was a youth minister, a close colleague once said to me, “Dave, I finally get why you talk about grace so much. I’ve never met someone so under the law.” She was right. I feel the weight of Should intensely and always have. Every one of my report cards said some variation of “David is too hard on himself.”
I could explore how this came to be — and I often do, with the help of professionals! — but at some point you have to accept that this is the internal machinery you’ve been given. My inner critic is not subtle. His voice is loud enough that those around me often pick up on the vibrations. While there’s nothing unique about any of this (I suspect plenty of people can relate) it goes some way toward accounting for the grace fixation.
I also had external reasons for writing this book. Maybe it’s my current stage in life (the middle part of middle age), maybe it’s our historical moment (2025 and the rise of the algorithm), maybe it’s geography (blue state coastal America), maybe it’s just L-I-F-E, but everywhere I look I see ladders getting longer and treadmills getting faster. I see ever more being asked of parents and of children and of spouses and teachers and neighbors and clergy who were already over-functioning.
We are carrying so much these days, and the accelerating pressure to achieve, to improve, to be happy, to stand out, to thrive, only compounds the burden. The result is, to borrow a phrase from Robbie Robertson in The Last Waltz, “a goddamn impossible way of life.” We’re safer and wealthier than we’ve ever been but also more afraid, sick, and unhappy. I no longer feel the need to rehearse the stats and studies; the situation is that glaring.
As the pressure ramps up, so too does the thirst for relief. The Christian faith addresses this thirst in tangible and radical ways, most profoundly via its conception of grace. The gospel makes the audacious, enlivening claim that a hope exists which transcends our ability to obstruct or avoid it. God’s love is not only real, but targets the undeserving, forging a redemptive way forward where there appears not to be one. This aspect isn’t always at the forefront of how the faith is presented, certainly not how it’s experienced. This book aims, in some small measure, to rectify that.

There’s one more reason I invested so many hours in The Big Relief. It’s the most serious reason, which is despair. I was speaking with a colleague recently about ministry to college students. He made a fascinating if disturbing observation. Fifteen years ago, when a young man would approach him to speak about a pastoral matter, nine times out of ten, it would be something related to purity. Today, when a young man asks to bend his ear about something personal, odds are, he is about to disclose a mental health emergency, usually some form of suicidal ideation.
Nearly everyone I know who’s engaged in pastoral ministry would corroborate this. I don’t know a single church that hasn’t witnessed an uptick in funerals where the cause of death was despair-related. More and more people would rather not live. Plenty of others are barely hanging on, no matter how happy-go-lucky they may appear. I know that sounds heavy and possibly overstated but I suppose you get to the point where writing about anything else (in book form) would feel inauthentic and even irresponsible.
I guess what I’m saying is that the most acute spiritual condition of our day isn’t pride or privilege or power or even self-righteousness. It’s despair. This despair floats freely and exerts a pressure of its own. And I know of no more potent force/idea/reality when it comes to allaying true despair than the grace of God. It’s the best thing there is. Grace lends life its poetry and preciousness and much of its levity. It is a reason to keep breathing — and breathing deeply.
By way of post-script, far be it for me to suggest that The Big Relief has discovered anything new about grace. Best I can do is what I tried with Seculosity and Low Anthropology, namely, to offer some fresh words and images that wipe the dust off the Old Story, and hopefully make you smile a couple times in the process. Do a little translation for the sake of emotional intelligibility, spiritual plausibility, and overall traction. You know, spread the word.
Podcasts about The Big Relief, in order of release (more to come!)
- Give and Take with Scott Jones (audio / video)
- Outside Ourselves with Kelsi Klembara (audio / video)
- Pivot Podcast with Dwight Zscheile & Terri Elton (audio / video)
- Shifting Culture with Joshua Johnson (audio / video)
- Crackers and Grape Juice (audio / video)
- Ministry Minded with Bradley Gray (audio)
- The Mockingcast (audio / video)
The Big Relief speaking gigs









We are awaiting our copy arriving today! We are always thirsting for grace. Mockingbird helps so much. Thank you.
There is something spiritually directed happening here. Your perspective syncs with a viewpoint I’ve been attempting to illustrate for several years via an ambitious musical project. I hope we get a chance to have a conversation at the New York Mockingbird conference. Your insightful reflections about grace resonate so convincingly and highlight a key element missing in many institutional churches. There’s too much emphasis, in my opinion, on legalism and EARNING God’s favor. RELIEF for sure!! Nothing needed more in our despairing world. Such an incredible gift, and the key to redemption and restoration! Thank you, Dave, and thank you Mockingbird.
How does union with Christ factor to the big relief? I’ve found relief when I focused less on grace in the abstract and more on Christ through the means of grace.
So looking forward to having this book in my hands. Your comment about “wiping the dust off the Old Story and hopefully making us smile (laugh!) along the way” is utterly essential and meaningful work in this day we live. You offer beautiful, clear insights to us all. Keep it comin’, Dave.
[…] those interested, the article continues at length, but the above line reminded me of something David Zahl wrote on this site a few months ago, which I think just about covers […]