This is my youngest taking the opportunity to doodle in my journal while I gathered laundry.
I stared down at his soft curls and realized this is what we must look like to God when we take the pen of our lives and try and write our own stories.
We might hold the book upside down and tear the pages. We might draw all over our hands and feet. The best we can do is scribble on the page.
Still God’s crazy about us, just like I’m enamored over the inked drawings in my journals. They remind me of little hands who try to imitate me.
Sometimes we grow up a bit. We may even let God write a sidebar or two in our lives, the small stories. We might fight to maintain control of the main story. But the margins we freely give to God.
Just think what would it look like if we let God beyond the margins. What if we gave him more space to create in us, to recreate us?
What if we gave God the entire book of our lives to write what he pleases? Sure, he would write in more danger and kick us out of our comfort zones, but he would pen more adventure for us, too.
I’m certain he would map out more ways for us to love people. He would give us eyes to see the least, the low-down and broken, and in doing so we would see Jesus.
He would unite his church and the power struggles and insecurities would evaporate as Love himself perfected us.
