The Truth Is...

How often do we get sidetracked, or even offended, in our faith-walk and find ourselves days -- perhaps months -- have passed since we met with our Lord, Jesus in sweet communion? How often do we worry that He'll be angry with us for neglecting Him? The truth is His mercy and compassion as He remembers that we were formed from dust. 

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The Truth Is . . .

Karlene A. Jacobsen

I stepped through the door and saw him sitting across the room, head bowed, hands clasped in front of him resting on the table. I’ve avoided this place for quite some time, at first because I was angry with him, and then because I was afraid he’d be angry with me. What would I say to him now? So much time had lapsed between conversations. 

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He lifted his head as I inched my way near. Tears streaked his face. When his gaze connected with me, his mouth curled up, pushing the corners of his eyes upward also. Tears brimmed then became a waterfall. Pushing his chair back, he stood and came to me, lifting his arms out with the promise that when he was close enough, he wrapped them around my shoulders, pulling me close. 

I couldn’t breathe. My chest hurt. His embrace, so warm, so loving, was almost more than I could bear. Why would he do this? I’d run away. I turned my back. I was unfaithful. 

My feeble attempts to pull away melted into his chest, though my mind begged for answers. How could you still love me after all I’ve done?  

As if reading my thoughts, his embrace loosened; but only enough to tuck a finger beneath my chin and tilt my head back. His face. Every angle, each line, the strength of his jaw, and the tenderness in his eyes, told me he’d forgiven me. 

But why? I haven’t even been speaking to him. 

I clutched at my chest. The pain I’d felt intensified and tightened. From deep within, anguished cries began to surface, breaking free through my lips. Files I’d locked away in my mind began to open, revealing perceptions and beliefs I thought were conquered. 

I tried to look away—ashamed—but he held me close. “My dear girl.” He kissed the tears from my cheeks. 

“But I’ll never be good enough. You deserve--”

“True love doesn’t wait for perfection. It covers imperfection.”

For a moment, I was satisfied, allowing his love to wash over me and become a blanket for my soul. Then I remembered all of my wrong turns. I’m so directionally challenged when it comes to life choices. What if I go the wrong way again? How many times will he put up with me making a mess of my life? Maybe true love covers imperfection in the beginning, but doesn’t it require perfection to become the norm eventually? 

“Slow down.” He calmed me with his gentleness.

I have no idea how he knew my thoughts, but he read me as though watching my mind unfold on screen. “But--” 

“You’re questioning the strength of my love. Only My Father, who measured the universe with the span of His hand, knows the height, and depth, and breadth of My love for you.” 

The truth of His words penetrated deep into my heart. I looked again at those files, now laying open for us to see clearly what I’d written and thought hidden from the world. Trust only that which you can see. You’re not worthy. Not good enough. Not smart enough. Give up trying, it’s useless. On and on the list went. 

Looking again into His face, I knew He saw the words too. “They’re lies, dear one.”

Unable to tear away from His gaze, I began to weep; sensing the depth of His love went far deeper than my imagination could carry me. How I ever missed it. No. I knew. I heard the words of defeat and degradation, wrote them down as evidence against me. I allowed those words spoken and perceived to become the gauge of my level of success. I believed I had to measure up before He could accept and love me wholly. 

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The truth is “neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8: 38 – 39 NKJV)