Does God want perfection from me? Do I want perfection from my children? In truth, I don’t really care that much. I just want to enjoy hanging out with each other. Yes, I want them to do what I say, but if they don’t, at the end of the day, do I care more about that or that they want to play a game with me?
“Mama, do you want to play Speed, or Monopoly, or Catan with me?”
“No, you didn’t fold the clothes when I told you to. So no, I don’t want to play with you.”
Not likely. If the clothes are still heaped in the basket, maybe we’ll fold them together. Or maybe I’ll tell them to fold while I finish something up, or while I set up the game.
But I won’t be refusing that fellowship time even if the clothes are hopelessly wrinkled. I may even have to throw the clothes back through the wash to get the wrinkles out. That’s alright. I’m big enough to handle that. I’d do that. In fact, I’ve done that.
And I’ve played games with my kids, or sat up later than we should, talking while the clothes go unfolded til the next morning.
Their obedience, their doing my will is important. But that pales by comparison to the importance of their wanting to hang out with me. Because that’s what I want from them more than anything: to fellowship with them.
I think of the father of the prodigal son. I would do no less for any of my children, no matter how much they reek like a pigpen. And God would do no less for me. He’s big enough to handle that.
Now, if I could just receive this truth fully. If I could live in it always. I hope this will get through to me forever.
God doesn’t want my perfection. He wants my fellowship. He wants to enjoy hanging out together.
