I remember being excited. An author I enjoy had released a new book. Although it has a paranormal feel to it, I find the romance this person authors very satisfying to read. I was getting ready to go to the bookstore.

I heard the Lord. He said, I’ll go with you. Argh. I didn’t want him to spoil my fun. He was sure to tell me I should not read the book. He was guaranteed to have good reasons. And then I would have to battle with my conscience when all I wanted to do was have the simple hours of pleasure that the read could bring.

It had been a hard season. Surely I was entitled to it?

Of course then I felt guilty for not wanting him to come. That became the weightiest. So I said, fine, come along. And we went. As soon as I got in the store, I can feel myself tense, my soul expecting to hear the rebuke, anticipating it, wondering if it would become an argument.

The salesperson had a hard time finding where the book was.

Sure enough, as soon as it was in my hand, I heard him say, I see what is in your hand. It is not the best for you. I felt him begin to contend with me, shifting his weight towards me. And then he stopped. And the book became light. And as I read the inside jacket I was prepared to see what my conscience might object to. I think I was almost prepared to walk out of the store without it. But there was nothing there. Just a story. And it carried no real weight. And I felt the Lord say I could buy it.

I was a little confused, but okay. A gift horse and all that.

I checked three times before my purchase just to make sure. No matter how much I want the comfort, if it is really going to be a big deal with the Lord, I’d rather not go there. I remember being a bit baffled because now he seemed fine with it.

It was not until I was on the way home that the reason for his seeming nonchalance surfaced.

I’ll read it with you, he said. Ah. So he was okay with me buying it because he would be with me to bring correction to any response my heart had that did not align? No. It wasn’t like that. He just said, I’ll read it with you. No condemnation. Not resignation. Just an anticipation of more time when I would be listening for his voice.

About three miles later he spoke again.
He said the following- my desire to be with you is greater than my concern that correcting you in this way that would cause us to be apart. The book, and your desire for it, will fade. Your connection to me matters more than my need to correct you.

I remember the brokenness of my heart in that moment. Somehow he made it so that I wanted to correct me so that our time together would be more blessed. How does he do that?
How can he be so secure in who he knows me to be that he does not need to be the heavy, he just loves me while I pass through my disobedience and loves me with open arms waiting for me to return to him?

I did read the book by the way. He did meet me in the middle. And because of those days of training there is a trust in me when he brings correction so it is much easier to hear. I don’t need to rebel so much because he loved me, allowed me, corrected me and then cleansed me. He has proved to be trustworthy here. I know there are times when his correction is more critical, and it is his mercy to be the heavy in those times.

And when I sing the song amazing grace, I am reminded of him here in this moment. Loving me fully, not because of who I am or in spite of who I am, but because of who he is. God is love.