Standard Error
It’s such a strange idea that God commands me not to be afraid. Oftentimes I wholeheartedly disagree. I sit with the burdens on my own shoulders and I turn away from God. For some undignified reason, I think that my ways and my thoughts and my dreams and aspirations for how things ought to be are higher and better than His plans. What’s funny is that God entertains my wandering. He lets me stray! I’M FREEEE, RIGHT?
Not. I can’t count how many times I’ve been here in this exact spot: it’s the divinely orchestrated point in my life where I’m up against the wall with no where to run, and no where to look except up, and upwards there is God who gazes at me like nothing’s wrong. I want to fight Him, because I’m so angry at Him for whatever erroneous reason. I tell Him that He better not get close to me because if He does I’m just going to push Him away. If He gets close then He’ll have to answer for all the “bad” things of the life that He’s given me, and there’s no way in the depths of Hell that He could ever produce an answer to satisfy me.
But what I like most about my Jesus is that He comes regardless. He doesn’t come with twelve legions of angels the way He could have with the soldiers that arrested Him, or the way He should with me to exert wrath for my sins. He comes and He hugs me, and there is so much forgiveness in His arms.
I started this post about fear. So let me get to what I was saying. Today at work I was reminded this of God’s love: On and on and on it goes. For it overwhelms and satisfies my soul. And I never, ever, have to be afraid, because His love remains.
