Grace Before Gift: Why Was Abel Accepted?
Genesis 4 confronts the
reader with a question more unsettling than it first appears. After Eden is
lost, after humanity is expelled from the presence of God and the ground itself
is cursed, Scripture calmly reports that “the LORD looked with favour on Abel
and his offering.” The narrative does not pause to explain this. Yet, that
should not stop us from asking how or why can this be. In a post-Fall world,
divine acceptance is no longer the default condition. It is the anomaly. The
wonder is not that Cain is rejected, but that Abel is received at all.
I have previously looked
at a sermon preached by Rev Tony Archer and my review of it may be read here: Genesis 4 Preached as Therapy, but in this essay, rather than the sermon, I want to focus on Genesis 4. Archer’s sermon on Genesis 4 is shaped by a
coherent and pastorally serious set of questions, but those questions quietly
assume what most needs explanation at a superficial level. His controlling inquiry is explicit: Why
did God not accept Cain’s offering? That question quickly narrows to a
moral and introspective concern: What was wrong with Cain’s offering and
Cain’s motive? From there, the sermon proceeds carefully and consistently.
Archer examines the descriptive language of the text, contrasts “fat portions”
and “firstborn” with “some of the fruit,” appeals to Hebrews 11:4, and
concludes that Abel’s offering was better because it was generous, costly, and
offered in faith, whereas Cain’s was tokenistic, uncostly, and self-serving.
Within that framework,
the logic holds. Abel trusted God as provider and therefore gave his best. Cain
attempted to use God instrumentally and therefore gave carelessly. The
difference lies in motive, posture, and faith. God’s acceptance follows
accordingly.
The difficulty is not that these observations are false, but that they explain acceptance without ever asking why acceptance exists at all. The sermon attempts to answer why Abel’s gift was better, but never asks why Abel himself is regarded with favour. Divine acceptance is rendered comprehensible and is presented in the sermon in terms of by human sincerity, rather than remaining an act of sheer grace from God. Once motive and quality are supplied, divine regard requires no further theological account in Archer’s sermon.
This is where the grammar of the sermon subtly shifts from grace before gift to gift before grace. Acceptance is no longer a mystery grounded in God’s graciousness, but a response grounded in human posture. Faith functions not as the empty hand that receives mercy, but as the explanatory mechanism that makes worship work.
By contrast, John Calvin refuses to let Genesis 4 be read this way. Calvin presses on the narrative order itself: the Lord has regard for Abel and his offering, not simply the offering alone. That ordering matters and it is missing in Archer’s sermon. Calvin, and the text, forces the reader to confront the fact that worship presupposes acceptance rather than securing it. Faith does not cause divine favour; it signals that favour has already been shown. In Calvin’s reading, the acceptance of Abel is not explained downward from Abel’s sincerity, but upward from God’s grace.
The pedagogical consequences of Archer’s unasked question are significant. Because acceptance is treated as the outcome of proper worship, the congregation is trained to look inward for assurance. Hearers are encouraged, implicitly, to assess their motives, generosity, and sincerity: Am I offering my best? Am I trusting God enough? The heart becomes the court of appeal. Worship becomes diagnostic rather than doxological.
Calvin’s pedagogy moves in the opposite direction. By refusing to explain acceptance morally, he dislodges the hearer from introspection and drives them outward to God’s prior regard. The heart is exposed as unreliable, not certified as sufficient. Gratitude replaces self-assessment. Obedience flows from astonishment rather than anxiety.
This difference also shapes how Cain functions in the sermon. Archer treats Cain primarily as a moral foil: an example of bad motives, unmanaged anger, and bitterness that spirals into violence. That reading is not entirely wrong, but it is vastly incomplete. Cain is more than a cautionary tale about sincerity. He embodies the offense of grace. He approaches God as though access is automatic and is outraged when that presumption is contradicted. His anger is not merely emotional failure; it is theological shock. God’s freedom to receive one worshipper and not another exposes a deeper offense than wounded emotion. It confronts the presumption that access to God is automatic, and that presumption proves intolerable to fallen pride
When that dimension is muted, Genesis 4 becomes a lesson in religious quality rather than a revelation of divine freedom. The congregation is taught how to avoid Cain, but not how to marvel at God’s acceptance of Abel. Moral vigilance replaces trembling joy.
None of this denies the ethical force of the passage. Genesis 4 does warn against token worship, uncontrolled anger, and violence. But those warnings rest on a deeper foundation. Abel’s offering is not admirable because it earns acceptance; it is offered because acceptance has already been given. Worship is not the strategy of a sinner seeking entry, but the response of one already received.
Such acceptance goes against our ideas of autonomy. However, both Cain and Abel approach God as fallen sons of Adam, equally estranged by sin and equally without claim upon divine favour. Scripture does not present Abel as less fallen, nor does it offer an explanation for why Cain is not first shown the same regard. That asymmetry is not resolved; it is asserted. The narrative resists any attempt to make grace predictable or distributable on human terms. Abel’s acceptance, therefore, cannot be traced to a prior moral advantage, just as Cain’s rejection cannot be explained as the mere absence of opportunity. Grace, if it is grace, remains free, prior, and unexplained.
Genesis 4 marks the first historical movement of the Seed promised in Genesis 3:15. Without explanation or moral accounting, God’s favour rests upon one brother and not the other. The resulting hostility is not merely personal but theological. Cain’s rage is the first eruption of the enmity God had declared would now govern human history.
To read Genesis 4 rightly, then, is to recover the scandal of grace at its heart. After Eden, after exile, after curse, God still looks with favour upon a sinner. That is the mystery of Genesis 4.
“Grace before gift” is not a theological embellishment. It is the only grammar that preserves the gospel shape of the passage. Archer’s sermon teaches the reader how to make better offerings. Genesis 4 though, with its account of Abel’s acceptance before God, confronts us with the only question that finally matters: Why has God shown favour to me, a sinner, at all?
