Courtney Ellis

Our older son broke a mug the other day. He and my husband were at a grocery store, and he didn’t mean to, but as the ceramic pieces shattered across the floor, my husband sighed.

He grabbed another mug from the same shelf and flipped it over to check the price. $15.

“It’s ok, buddy,” he said.

Our older son is a deep thinker and feeler, the kind of kid you normally only have to look at sideways to correct him when he’s misbehaving. He hung his head in shame.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” he said.

“Oh, buddy,” said Daryl, “I love you no matter what.”

I don’t know about you, but I have moments when I believe that God might not like me very much. I’ve broken a metaphorical mug and I’m hanging my head in shame. I wasn’t obedient enough, patient enough, good enough. I missed my devotions, snapped at the kids, waited out my husband so he would clean the kitchen even though it was my turn.

Surely God must be mad at me, or even worse, disappointed. 

We read of a God in Scripture who is weeps over death, who is angry at sin, but also one who longs to gather up the world and make it whole again.

God is holy and tender, wrathful and merciful, mighty and kind.

Like a loving parent, God rejoices over each of us. We are going to break some mugs. It’s what human beings do. But after the ceramic skitters across the grocery store floor and we hang our heads, sorry for our fumbles, what is God’s response?

From Zephaniah 3:17:

The Lord your God is with you,
    the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
    in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
    but will rejoice over you with singing.

What does it mean to you that God doesn’t just tolerate or like you, but rejoices over you?

Let’s live loved.