Today is Grandparents day at my grandson's school. Gabe, a first-grader, will lead me through his classroom and his school and show off his "stuff." It's the first time in the three years he's attended this school that I've been able to be the "one" who shows up.
It is an amazing thought that Gabe is growing up before my eyes, like a weed in the back yard of the parsonage. I would do anything to help him, anything to boost his status, anything to protect him.
All that makes me even more grateful and amazed at what our Lord and Savior Jesus did, and what our Father, God, allowed Jesus to do.
Isaiah wrote of it, "it was our pains he carried -- our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us. We thought he brought it on himself, that God was punishing him for his own failures. But it was our sins that did that to him, that ripped and tore and crushed him -- our sins. He took the punishment and that made us whole. Through his bruises we get healed."
Friends, I wish I was perfect. Sometimes it brings me to my knees how far from perfect I still am. I sin, sometimes even almost willingly or at least I sin without real effort to stop. I don't do it as much, and I'm closer to the aim and goal of Jesus that I was two days ago. But I'm not perfect. I need a Savior. I need someone to fix my mess.
God allowed Jesus to do so. He allowed it in the most gruesome, terrible manner.
I could not do that. I could not allow my son Jason or my grandson Gabriel to do so. That's still how far from perfect I remain.
Thank God that He is.
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