I have lived the greater portion of my relationship with God looking
over my shoulder.
He never told me he was watching me like a hawk in judgment.
No, I have read how he delights over me and tenderly cares for me.
He watches over me full of protective intentions.
But I have changed the translation to my own,
created in my image.
I have embraced scales in place of strong loving hands.
I have measured discipline like it was an unseen yardstick.
Acquainted with the truth that He is all-seeing and all-knowing and fearing
that all that seeing and knowing would surely find me lacking miserably.
Many schools employ composition notebooks as a tool to help students
track their assignments.
Each day a student is required to log each specific assignments and its due date.
After an assignment is completed, the teacher places their signature as verification.
A quick glance at any given composition notebook will
determine whether a student is on target or woefully behind.
I live like God is checking my notebooks.
Am I on target as His child or am I woefully behind?
I want to live in freedom.
I want to one day stand before Him
not juggling arms full
of scribbled in notebooks
but with empty arms
attached to simply me.
I desire to live out of the complete definition
of God not existing under one looming misconception.
Somehow I easily cast aside the hundreds of names of God and
descriptions of his character and lasso each one with one word:
I don’t want to suspect God is holding a giant red pen
eagerly looking through the notebook of my life for inadequacies.
With every beating fiber of my heart, I want to know the stream of red
marks comes from the cross and covers my failings with
grace, mercy and outstretched arms of love.
Summer school lesson #4:
God is not checking your notebook.
This is the fourth installment in my summer school
You can find the other posts