The God of the Universe sent His only Son to die for me so that He could give me His life, care for me, teach me, and encourage me to follow Him.
It just doesn’t add up.
I’m a failing failure.
I was a totally hopeless failure when it came to holiness before I met Jesus.
And even with all the growth and healing Jesus has brought into my life, I continue to fail Him.
Just last week I told Him I felt like my life was a hopeless, sinful, joke. I told Him it was a mistake to ever give me eternal life. I told Him I didn’t think I could go on and that He should find some other follower to represent Him.
I mean, really, how does He tolerate someone who’s been a Christian so long and still has these nights of deep depression, these bouts with anger and doubt, these envious-of-other-Christians’-better-deal-in-life pity parties, and this less-than-I-really-want-to-be-for-you life?
Guess I’ll just have to give up and receive His love, and risk it that He’s telling the truth when He says that I’m His special concern.
Despite all my sinfulness and the messiness of my stumbling steps of following Him, I don’t have anyone else to go to.
He has the words of eternal life.
I’m just going to go ahead and keep risking everything on Jesus.