One day in church–it was Good Friday, actually– I was sitting in the back of the church and a dad was quietly explaining what was going on to his young son. I thought, “I never did that with my kids. No wonder they say they don’t believe in God now.” I felt guilty, and confessed my failure as a parent.
God’s reaction took me by surprise. Very distinctly in my spirit, I sensed him say, nonplussed, “Of course you failed.”
He added, “I don’t expect anything else. That’s why I died. And remember, I rose, and it’s all okay, because I’M the one who makes it okay.
“You are forgiven….”
So I know we’ll survive, and it’s my own perfectionism (and pride) that thinks I can be anything but a failure. It’s not that I’m beating myself up about it; quite the opposite.
I’m free to fail, as a parent or in any other way, because I am a sinner and Jesus is the one who took care of sin, once and for all. So now I’m forgiven and can stand in the truth that he can redeem anything.
If only I believe … but even then, if I don’t believe “enough,” that’s okay, because I can’t do that either, and Jesus believes for me.
Isn’t Jesus wonderful?
That was my personal Good Friday sermon.