Grace is one of the most difficult topics for Latter-day Saints and Evangelicals to talk about. Even though Evangelicals Latter-day Saints use the same terminology, there are some pretty significant differences that are difficult to fully unpack.
But often, it’s not our definitions that say the most—it’s our metaphors.
Metaphors paint with vivid colors. They sneak past our theological defenses and give us a window into how we really see God, sin, and salvation. They often reveal more than our doctrinal statements.
A few years ago I evaluated Boyd K. Packer’s famous analogy of Christ as a mediator who assumed our debt. More recently I looked at Brad Wilcox’s use of marital imagery to describe covenants. Today I want to look at another of the most popular LDS atonement metaphors, Brad Wilcox’s piano lessons story.
In this post, I want to explore that familiar image, share a counter-metaphort that aligns more closely with biblical grace, and invite you to consider who is really playing the notes in your spiritual life.
Rethinking the Piano Teacher Metaphor of Grace
In his talk “His Grace Is Sufficient”, Brad Wilcox presents a metaphor where grace is likened to a piano lesson:
“Christ’s arrangement with us is similar to a mom providing music lessons for her child. Mom pays the piano teacher. Because Mom pays the debt in full, she can turn to her child and ask for something. What is it? Practice! Does the child’s practice pay the piano teacher? No. Does the child’s practice repay Mom for paying the piano teacher? No. Practicing is how the child shows appreciation for Mom’s incredible gift. It is how he takes advantage of the amazing opportunity Mom is giving him to live his life at a higher level.”
There’s much to commend here. In this metaphor, grace is not earned; the cost is paid in full. Christ takes the burden of the law off our shoulders. This is a helpful corrective to any idea that we can earn God’s favor through works.
But the metaphor also makes something else clear: it’s still your recital. Grace gives you the opportunity to try. But the pressure is still on you to perform. The goal is to become a capable pianist. If you fail to practice, you squander the gift. If you perform well, you get the reward. The recital is judged on your effort. In other words, the image still subtly shift the focus back onto our performance
The Problem with Grace Being Tied to Our Performance
Wilcox’s analogy leaves little room for the weak, the wounded, the slow learner, or those who just play badly? What about the child whose fingers never master the keys or simply can’t keep up with the rhythm? The metaphor offers no assurance that their performance will be accepted. It tells you the lessons were paid for—but the outcome is still on you.
In other words, this metaphor gives us Christ as a teacher and an example, but not as a substitute. It reframes grace as divine help, but leaves final judgment resting on our performance.
That’s not just a different metaphor—it’s a different gospel.
Christ’s grace gives us something much more remarkable than merely the opportunity to either thrive or crash and burn based on our own skill and performance.
The Impossible Concerto
Let me offer another picture.
Imagine you’re required to perform at the most important concert in history. This is not just a recital—it’s your final examination. How you perform will determine your future. How well you perform will determine whether you graduate or are expelled. The music you are required to perform is beautiful—but impossibly difficult. You would still struggle even if you were Mozart, but you are no Mozart. You’re not just underprepared; you’re completely incapable of playing it. You sit at the bench, trembling, certain you’ll ruin the piece and be shunned forever.
But then, the Master steps in.
He sits beside you. Or maybe He takes your place entirely. Either way, He plays.
Every note is flawless and filled with beauty and grace Even when your hands fumble or strike the wrong keys, His hands are there—covering, correcting, completing. When the final chord resounds, the audience hears a perfect performance.
And here’s the most amazing thing: it’s counted as yours. You get all of the honors and the recognition and the accolades that he deserves.
This is grace.
“For our sake He made Him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in Him we might become the righteousness of God.”
—2 Corinthians 5:21
Grace doesn’t just pay for your lessons and hope you can play in the recital. Grace is the Master performing on your behalf. His skills are credited to you. His beautiful melody covers your brokenness.
That impossible concerto—that flawless, demanding piece you could never master—is the standard of divine judgment at the bar of the holy God. One day, every one of us will stand before the Judge and give an account—not of how hard we tried, but of whether we truly met the standard. If we even miss one note, we are out.
“For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become guilty of all of it.” (James 2:10)
And here’s the terrifying truth: no amount of practice could ever make us worthy of that stage. We’ve all hit sour notes. We’ve all fumbled the rhythm. On our own, the performance is ruined. Eternal expulsion looms.
“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”
—Romans 3:23
But Christ has already played the piece perfectly. He didn’t just pay for your lessons. He stood in your place and performed on your behalf flawlessly, freely, and fully. And if you are his student, then when that final bar of judgment sounds, His perfect melody will be counted as yours.
“By one offering He has perfected forever those who are being sanctified.”
—Hebrews 10:14
Sanctification: Even Our Weak Practice Is Not Wasted
Here’s the even more astonishing part: while the Master’s perfect performance is what justifies us—what counts for us on the final day—He still invites us to learn the music. He still trains our hands.
Not to earn the stage. Not to prove our worth. But because we’ve already been welcomed.
Grace not only covers us—it reshapes us. Slowly, day by day, He tunes our ears, strengthens our fingers, and makes our lives echo His melody.
We can declare with the Apostle Paul:
“I have been crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Galatians 2:20 CSB).
Even our weakest efforts at growth however feeble or flawed are caught up in the music of Christ. And by His Spirit, we are truly being changed.
“He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” (Philippians 1:6)
Performing with Assurance
And there’s one other truly remarkable truth. Once we know that we no longer need to perform in order to make it into God’s good favor, we are able to thrive and perform far better than we could have when nerves and fears of failure were overwhelming.
We can enjoy the journey, take pleasure in each note of music, and have confidence that the master will guide our hand.
“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”
—Romans 8:1
This is not performance for approval—it’s performance from approval.
Conclusion: The Master’s Music
Grace is not God giving you lessons and a chance to prove yourself. It’s God giving you Christ—who has already proved Himself on your behalf.
Worldly religious systems tell us that to be with God again we need to try harder and practice better. But the Gospel tells us that our hope is in our master who tried harder and performed better than any one of us could and who offers to let us partake in his victory. The Gospel is about trusting the One who already passed our test for us.