How sweet are your words to my taste!
Yes, sweeter than honey to my mouth!
My red leather-bound Bible could tell a thousand tales — not only stories of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the prophets, or the days our Savior walked the earth. My Bible is underlined, highlighted, with notes in the margins. My favorite page is the one half eaten. Literally. Before My first born son could roll over he reached for my Bible, as I read on the floor beside him. He tore part of the Psalms out and put the thin leaf paper into his slobbery little mouth. I retrieved the torn piece, flattened it and dried it out, and now have it taped to the inside of my jewelry box. Nothing I own is more beautiful to me (not diamonds, gold, or pearls) than the tangible reminder of my greatest hope — that one day all of my children grow up to believe, ingest, and speak to others the very Word of God.
Nine years ago, when my little Caleb was lapping up pages from my Bible, I knew very little about the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Even with all the underlining, highlighting, and writing I had done in the margins. I knew about Jesus dying for my sins so that I might be forgiven. And I belived. But I didn't know what the gospel of Jesus, lived out in a daily way, interacting with others, was all about. I thought that living the gospel was telling people about Jesus. But I am slowly starting to see that the Gospel, lived out in our lives, is simply walking out the ministry of Jesus. Extending grace and love and forgiveness, ever pointing to Him as we do.
Yesterday my Bible consuming boy spent the day playing his electric guitar at our church's performing arts camp. Actually, he was supposed to be playing his guitar when in fact he was getting into trouble. Lots of trouble. I won't divulge the specifics, (9 1/2 is too old for cyber sharing) but I will say he came home remorseful and repentant, and wrote a dear apology to the child he had offended. In the end my child went to sleep last night content in the knowledge that he was forgiven.
His peaceful sleep reminded me of a verse I had memorized while he was in my womb:
There is therefore now no condemnation
to them which are in Christ Jesus,
who walk not after the flesh,
but after the Spirit.
Before he left for camp this morning I looked my boy straight in the eye and said, "You can stand tall when you walk into the church today — you are a forgiven boy, you don't need to be embarrassed or ashamed." He nodded, smiled, and walked out the door with his head high.
* With all the scriptures I wanted to throw at him last night, all the correcting,
berating, instructing him in godliness I had wanted to do... what he needed most of all was this picture of The Gospel. Forgiveness. So thankful that my husband is a calm and loving Dad. That through his hugs and encouragement last night both Caleb and I learned more about the Gospel of Jesus Christ lived out in the lives of our children. Ironically, today as I was going through some of the boys crafts I came upon a card Caleb made for Matt this Father's Day. Inside the card our son wrote the words "Thank you for remaining calm with me when I've disobeyed."