Once, when I was younger and lacked the good judgment that the Lord gave the barnyard bird of your choice, I dated a girl who, quite frankly, I had no business dating. I remember the rationalization, the denial, the guilt. You see, by that time I had already trusted Jesus and had been learning to walk with Him over the past few years. I was deviating from what He had for me; I knew it and the Holy Spirit wouldn't let me enjoy it (for that, I'm grateful). The day came when that relationship ended. It was her decision (I told you; I'm not proud of this), and I took it pretty hard. I remember one thing so vividly though, more than the hurt, the guilt, everything else. It was on the drive to school one morning shortly after the break-up that God reminded me that He was still there. He always had been and He always would be, in spite of the way I had tried to distance myself from Him by not listening. On that drive to school that morning I was ashamed that I had treated God, my God, that way. I never wanted to do it again. I repented.
As I write this right now, I look around me and I'm overcome by the Lord's perpetual goodness to me. The woman who, by nothing less than a miracle, is my wife has just gone to bed. The kids are all asleep, but I look around and see their marks all over our home. A little pair of rubber boots stands by my backdoor, ready for action tomorrow. Our Christmas tree stands lit and decorated only on the top half because my one year-old just can't help himself. A toy that knows what love is lays on my table because the super glue is setting tonight that I put him back together with. Dirty, smudgy, beautiful little handprints make my windows look just right. All of this is a reminder to me that even to someone like me, the Lord is good. When I stood hopelessly and helplessly condemned, "through His own blood, he entered the holy place once for all," for me, and as if that weren't enough, for my wife and for my kids.