I've Been Keeping Count

One year, seven months, five days.

I've been keeping track of how long it's been since I, well,... whatever the Christianese is for "got out of brutally deep trenches of sin".  And no, I don't really mean since I got "saved".  I mean since I stopped blatantly sinning against a savior I had already fallen for and chosen for myself. 

One year, seven months and five days ago, the love of Jesus and the bitter taste of choices made apart from Him gripped me to do the first honorable thing I had done in a long time: surrender.

I came back to Him.  And this wasn't like the other times; it was nothing like the memorized apologies that I would mumble through in half-hearted prayers.  No, this time was a decision that was intentional and full of faith- I knew with surety that Jesus had indeed sought me out and was ready to take me back.

I'll never forget it- coming back.  Being back.

It was as if I had been rescued, after having been stranded in a desert for years, and my first experience with water again was with Niagra Falls.  His love was exactly as I had remembered- the way it coursed through me, the way it tasted.  And it was exactly as I had dreamed during those years away.  It was all just as lovely and refreshing, but, it was in an overwhelming abundance that I had never imagined or experienced before.

And although I get to relive this joy with each new day and with each stripe I add to the tally, I haven't been.  Why?

Because I've been keeping count.

Because that which at its core has been meant for blessing and transformation, has started to feel like a tightrope.  This new life which has been meant for worship and praise, has become more about concealing my sigh of relief with a loose smile.

As more time has passed, that count has started to seem more like a threat, warning me that with every day that I happen to skirt those "big sins", I don't make myself any stronger.  No, I just make that next, seemingly impending prodigal-fall that much more of a drop.

And I hadn't realized it until today- a ten-hour drive will definitely do that for you.  But along with this sudden awareness of that insidious deception was the simultaneous reveal of something very, very sweet and very, very true.

I am not the one who has been carrying me these past five hundred plus days.

And the strength is not for me muster up.

No, for it is my Good Shepherd who has led me back into His light.  For it is His strength that is purposed to be perfected in my weakness.

For it's not a tightrope I brave and walk on, but a sea of grace and mercy I shall gladly drown in.

Dear Returned Prodigals,

Whether you've wandered from this Love once, twice, or 490 times, He will always be the One who heals and the One who restores.

His abilities don't change just because you feel your track record has.  His promises and His faithfulness have been and will always remain the same.

Don't let the world, the enemy, nor yourself ever convince you that the goal is good behavior or that the means is self-help.  For our God does a way better job at caring for us and transforming us than we ever could.

And don't pride, scare, or define yourself with that count.  But instead, every morning, equip yourself with His new set of mercies and choose that day whom you will serve.