CHAPTER SUMMARY

Opening

In these closing chapters, Brant Hansen strings together parables, film, field stories, and family moments to show what an “unoffendable” life looks like on the ground. The result is a portrait of a faith that trades ego for self-forgetfulness and rule-keeping for the shocking abundance of grace.


What Happens

Chapter 21: I CAN WORSHIP A GOD LIKE THAT

Hansen opens with Tony Campolo’s late-night diner story in Honolulu. When Campolo overhears that Agnes, a prostitute, turns 39 and has never had a birthday party, he conspires with the owner, Harry, to throw one at 3:30 a.m. The place erupts when Agnes walks in. She trembles, can’t bring herself to cut the cake, and carries it home to keep the moment intact. In the hush that follows, Campolo prays. When Harry finds out he’s a preacher, he blurts, “There’s no church like that. If there was, I’d join it.” Hansen says that’s the church—and the kind of God—he can worship: the One who isn’t scandalized by sinners, but throws parties for them.

He pivots to the ministry of Jesus, who shocks the respectable by eating with people like Zacchaeus. Rules can restrain behavior, Hansen argues, but only Grace and Forgiveness change hearts.

Hansen then recounts a tsunami-relief trip to an Indonesian village. His team faces warnings about Muslim separatists and cold hostility from the local imam. They choose to stay—sleeping on floors, recovering bodies, serving without fanfare. Day after day, their unoffendable presence erodes suspicion. The imam invites them to dinner. Then, in raw vulnerability, he begs them to take his remaining children to America. The drastic turn, Hansen says, happens because the imam glimpses Jesus—a God who climbs into the back of the truck with us when life is unbearable.

Chapter 22: HERE’S THE PART WHERE I TALK ABOUT SOME DANISH PEOPLE

Hansen holds up the film Babette’s Feast as an allegory of grace. Two aging, pious sisters lead a rigid little sect. Their French refugee cook, Babette, wins a lottery—and spends every cent preparing a single, opulent meal for them and their congregation. The community resolves to eat without enjoying it, equating pleasure with sin. But course by course, the feast melts their resistance and the room erupts into joy. Hansen says we often treat God’s grace this way: it feels too free, too wasteful, too undeserved—so we try to behave our way into it.

That’s where childlike humility comes in. Hansen shares an email from a listener, Jacob, who’s haunted by guilt despite believing in grace. Hansen reminds him that Jesus’s declaration—“It is finished”—means exactly that. Our security rests on Christ’s righteousness, not our own. Any “grace, but…” theology drains the cross of its power. When we aren’t secure in God’s favor, we become constricted, defensive, and easily offended. We can play the older brother in the prodigal story, seething on the porch, or we can walk inside and accept the feast.

Chapter 23: FORGET DANISH PEOPLE—LET’S TALK ABOUT YOUR ELBOW

Hansen likens the ego to an inflamed joint: when a shoulder is injured, you notice it constantly; when the self is swollen, every slight feels personal. True humility isn’t self-loathing; it’s self-forgetfulness. His ninety-year-old grandmother models this—she moves through life free from the tyranny of other people’s opinions, not because she thinks highly of herself, but because she’s not thinking of herself at all.

He contrasts two ministry styles. One woman arrives with a “Big Vision” to save Africa—plans centered on her own significance. A nervous young couple, by contrast, loves a few friends and launches a tiny micro-loan website that God grows into a global force. Proverbs points to the ants—no visionary, no fanfare, just faithful response to the task at hand. God delights in working through the humble so the credit is His. Hansen then introduces Sokreaksa Himm, who watches the Khmer Rouge murder his family. After coming to faith, he realizes he can’t follow Jesus and cling to revenge. He tracks down the killers, forgives them, and lays his anger down—proof that the call to forgive is absolute, even when justice feels most “earned.”

Chapter 24: AND LO, THE KINGDOM OF GOD IS LIKE A TERRIBLE FOOTBALL TEAM

Hansen tells on himself as a sixth-grade flag-football coach. His team goes 0–12 and loses the finale 77–6. As the defeated kids trudge off the field, a white stretch limo rolls up—decked with their team flags—to take them to the pizza party. The champions stand stunned. Hansen says this is the kingdom: the last are first. Ultimate victory has nothing to do with our performance. The limo is coming anyway.

He distills the book’s thesis: The Choice to Be Unoffendable is a daily act of humility—surrendering rights, control, and self-importance to find the freedom Jesus promises. He closes with a car-ride to the rodeo with his young daughter. The route is long and confusing, full of detours. She isn’t anxious because she trusts the driver. When she finally asks where they’re going, a simple answer satisfies her. That’s the life of faith: a calm heart, free from offense and anger, rooted in the love of the One at the wheel.


Character Development

Hansen steps forward not as an expert but as a fellow struggler who practices what he preaches.

  • He reframes leadership through failure (the 0–12 season), humor, and vulnerability, modeling self-forgetfulness.
  • He chooses presence over safety in Indonesia, showing how unoffendable love dismantles hostility.
  • He insists on heart change over rule-keeping, rooting his guidance in grace rather than performance.

Sokreaksa Himm becomes the climactic case study.

  • He embodies forgiveness under the heaviest moral weight, proving that laying down “justifiable” anger is both possible and transformational.
  • His obedience shifts the book’s claims from theory to lived reality.

Themes & Symbols

Grace and forgiveness saturate these chapters. The Agnes party, the Indonesian imam’s heart shift, Himm’s pardon of murderers, and Babette’s Feast all display a grace that feels scandalous because it can’t be earned. Hansen argues that only experienced grace produces extended grace; commandments can bridle behavior, but only love remakes the heart.

Humility vs. self-righteousness appears as a battle of attention. An inflamed ego makes us hypersensitive and perpetually offended. Humility—the freedom of not needing to be the point—opens space for joy, generosity, and courage. Legalism, whether in a joyless sect or the offended older brother, keeps us outside the party.

Symbols:

  • The limo for the losing team: a picture of the kingdom’s economy, where unearned celebration meets the undeserving and the last ride first.
  • The driver of the car: a vision of restful trust in God’s care along confusing routes.
  • The feast: an image of abundance we resist until we surrender the need to deserve it.

Key Quotes

“There’s no church like that. If there was, I’d join it.” This line from Harry names the ache of the world: a community that throws parties for the shamed. It reframes the church’s mission—not gatekeeping, but welcoming prodigals with cake and prayer at 3:30 a.m.

“It is finished.” Hansen centers Jacob’s fears on this declaration. If the work is complete, our standing isn’t fragile. Confidence in Christ’s righteousness silences the “grace, but…” reflex that breeds anxiety and offense.

“The last are first.” The 0–12 team’s limo turns a scoreboard upside down. Hansen uses the beatitude logic of Jesus to unhook worth from performance, freeing us to love without the pressure to impress.

“She knew who was driving.” This final image shifts spiritual maturity from certainty about the route to trust in the Driver. It invites a posture that dissolves anger, because control isn’t our job.


Why This Matters and Section Significance

These chapters bring Hansen’s argument to life. Stories spanning celebration, disaster relief, genocide, and kids’ sports transpose theology into muscle memory. The through-line is simple and demanding: choose humility, receive grace, extend forgiveness, and refuse offense. Lived this way, faith stops posturing and starts partying, even in grief—because the feast is set, the limo is on its way, and the Driver is good.