The proof’s in the pudding.

I’m kinda cheating today. Though I feel a ‘real’ blog post brewing, it’s not ready to be written quite yet. So, I’m linking you in a moment to another blog.
But, of course, I have a couple of my own cents to add first.
Christian and I talk about what we believe often. We have conversations probably daily about the greatness of our God, and thank Him constantly, together and on our own, for His amazing goodness in our lives. We see Him in our kids and their faith and in their decisions. He is the very fabric of our family.
But I shouldn’t have to ever tell anyone that. I shouldn’t ever have to declare to you how much I love Him or how much He loves me. I shouldn’t ever have to try to describe to you in a few sentences the place God has in my life.

It should be obvious without me having to say a word.

But, I fail.
We, as a culture, have failed in explaining Him. He has been portrayed as a safety net, a magic genie, a route to a land of gold and cherubs, and a giver of wealth. It has been said that if we say the magic words, life will improve and we will have favor.

We have used words that exclude and make people feel small, and created an us-and-them that puts ourselves on a pedestal that no one wants to even try to reach.
We have created formulas to get to a God Who is seemingly only present in certain places and accessed by certain people.
Yes, we have also done some nice things in His name, but overall, in the country in which we live, if you say “I’m a Christian,” what do people who aren’t really think?

We have somehow imagined that He needs us to accomplish His purposes.

If you know my God at all, He’s pretty big. He’s big enough to do whatever He wants whenever He wants. He doesn’t need me and my silly little blog to try to convey anything whatsoever. He doesn’t need me at all.

But He wants me.

And that knowledge changed my very existence.

And He wants you, too. But not in a ‘do these things and you can have Me’ kinda way. In a ‘hear My heart and love me too’ kinda way.

We are so good at taking something so beautifully simple and convoluting it, aren’t we? Like when you try to tell your husband something and it comes out all wrong and all of a sudden you’re in an argument. And then you stop for a minute and say, “How did we get here? I didn’t mean it like that!”

Culturally, that’s what we did with the simple message that there is one God Who wants you to know that He loves you so much He would die for you. And He did. He offers a safe place to which you can run and find peace.

And your very soul can heal.

All you have to do is hand yourself over–give up fighting and wondering and struggling –and just respond to being loved.

But my little words can’t sum it up. So, I’m going to stop trying and move on with a day of living it. A day in which I pray that in some way the folks I come in contact with catch even the tiniest whiff of a fragrance that says how loved I am.

Here’s the link I promised you at least fifty cents ago…

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