Tally Marks
“Because I’ve made too many mistakes.”
This was the raw response that fell from my child’s lips earlier this week. Sin had reared its ugly head in our relationship and the requisite consequences followed suit. Tears fell. The whole relational exchange was very normal (perhaps less than desirable, but normal)… up until that point. Listening as my child walked away, I overheard a disconcerting, caustic cluster of negative self-talk.
I pursued, inquiring why such self-deprecation was warranted. I affirmed my ceaseless love, regardless of behavior. I stressed that God’s love was eternally more unfailing than my own. To no avail. This babe of mine wasn’t convinced. I probed why — why — my love couldn’t be received, much less God’s.
An anguished heart articulated the underlying belief that love is limited.
Too many mistakes. I was simultaneously perplexed and pierced. Had I so utterly failed to communicate the unconditional nature of my affection? What an arduous burden for a child to carry — thinking the bank account of adoration was irretrievably overdrawn.
My parental failures are too many to enumerate. It’s very possible that I’ve inadvertently, unintentionally instilled a message of conditional love with my actions, though my words have purposefully expressed otherwise. Or maybe I haven’t. Maybe this is part of the human condition, a flesh-bound brokenness resulting from the Fall. I don’t say that to let myself ‘off the hook’ but rather to consider whether I don’t have the very same pattern with my Father.
Before becoming a Christ-follower, I initially questioned whether my sins could be forgiven. Accepting the redemption purchased for me through the blood of Jesus, I began to live in light of my salvation. Shame occasionally did (and still does) creep into my heart, reminding me of those tally marks of sin. While my intellect knows that I’m saved for good works, not because of them (Ephesians 2:10), the way I feel about my sin (past or present) reveals something about what my heart knows about love and grace.
I strive to find the balance between sharing in the profound grief my sin causes God and living fully and freely in light of the forgiveness that’s been bought for me.
We must every day try to lay hold again of God’s love and grace for us. This was Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians; one I, too, can pray for myself and my children:
And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
— Ephesians 3:17b-19 NIV (emphasis added)
I love that Paul exhorts the Ephesians in this — precisely because God chose Paul despite his history of persecuting Christians. My tally marks of sin far outnumber my child’s — if only because I’ve been alive a little longer. Yet He loves me still. God’s love keeps no record of wrongs (1 Corinthians 13:5).
Great post, Kirsten. I heard a sermon recently and the preacher said, “God knew you were a loser when He chose you, but He sees a winner because He looks at you through the lens of Jesus.” So true.
Great post, Kirsten. I heard a sermon recently and the preacher said, “God knew you were a loser when He chose you, but He sees a winner because He looks at you through the lens of Jesus.” So true.
Great post, Kirsten. I heard a sermon recently and the preacher said, “God knew you were a loser when He chose you, but He sees a winner because He looks at you through the lens of Jesus.” So true.
Excellent, Susan. The lens metaphor is what I used for the week I spoke at camp last month. Love that quote and wish I’d had it then!
Freedom in Christ…what does that look like? This is an ongoing conversation in a couple of circles of which I am part. Your insights and connections definitely add to these discussions. Thank you for your words and your heart.
Would love to hear more about those conversations, Jenni — ping me via email. Glad it resonated in an applicable way!
Freedom in Christ…what does that look like? This is an ongoing conversation in a couple of circles of which I am part. Your insights and connections definitely add to these discussions. Thank you for your words and your heart.
Would love to hear more about those conversations, Jenni — ping me via email. Glad it resonated in an applicable way!
Freedom in Christ…what does that look like? This is an ongoing conversation in a couple of circles of which I am part. Your insights and connections definitely add to these discussions. Thank you for your words and your heart.
Would love to hear more about those conversations, Jenni — ping me via email. Glad it resonated in an applicable way!
Would love to hear more about those conversations, Jenni — ping me via email. Glad it resonated in an applicable way!
Would love to hear more about those conversations, Jenni — ping me via email. Glad it resonated in an applicable way!
Excellent, Susan. The lens metaphor is what I used for the week I spoke at camp last month. Love that quote and wish I’d had it then!
[…] two opposite ends of the spectrum, my son and I. He pushes away the grace given, feeling unworthy of it. I consume it ravenously, without care for its cost. Neither extreme is […]
[…] two opposite ends of the spectrum, my son and I. He pushes away the grace given, feeling unworthy of it. I consume it ravenously, without care for its cost. Neither extreme is […]
[…] two opposite ends of the spectrum, my son and I. He pushes away the grace given, feeling unworthy of it. I consume it ravenously, without care for its cost. Neither extreme is […]
[…] two opposite ends of the spectrum, my son and I. He pushes away the grace given, feeling unworthy of it. I consume it ravenously, without care for its cost. Neither extreme is […]