Accepted Before You Ever Felt Acceptable
Well, howdy there and hush my heart, friend. I sure am glad you made your way up here on this ol’ front porch. There’s a chair sittin’ empty, a lil’ ol’ bobwhite bird callin’ from the fence row over yonder, and an ol’ billy goat down by the shed wearin’ an expression like somebody questioned his family pedigree. Some mornin’s we feel mighty spiritual. Other mornin’s we feel about as presentable as an ol’ scarecrow after a big afternoon thunderstorm. Thankfully, God’s acceptance don’t rise and fall with our feelin’s.
Ephesians 1:6 says we are “accepted in the beloved.” Notice where our acceptance sho’-nuff’ rests. Not in our performance. Not in yesterday’s victory. Not in whether we managed to keep every thought polished and every attitude tucked neatly into place.
We are plum accepted in Christ.
Sometimes we look inside ourselves and find enough shortcomin’s to fill a big ol’ feed wagon. Then, we assume God must be examinin’ us with the same sad and disappointed eyes. But God downright looks at the believer through the finished work of Jesus.
That’s why Hebrews 10:14 says, “For by one offering he has perfected forever them that are sanctified.” Christ’s sacrifice wasn’t partial payment while we scramble around tryin’ to cover the balance for the rest of what is owed. Jesus has already plum finished the work.
Your joyful days don’t make God love you more, and your weary days don’t make Him love you less. Feelin’s change quicker than a lil’ ol’ chipmunk dartin’ through a blackberry patch. Christ don’t never change at all.
Father, thank You that my acceptance rests in Jesus and not in my performance. When I feel unworthy, turn my eyes away from myself and toward Christ. Help me live confidently, gratefully, and obediently because I know I am loved and accepted in Him. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Now, pull them boots back on and stomp the dust off while you straighten that collar and head right on back into your day, friend. Don’t drag your failures behind you like an ol’ milk cow pullin’ an overturned feed trough. When shame starts to hollerin’ from the woods, you’ve gotta be answerin’ it with the finished work of Jesus. You don’t have to earn a seat at the Father’s table because Christ already brought you home. So, walk out there real grateful, steady, and sho’ nuff’ amazed that heaven sho’-nuff’ calls you accepted in the Beloved.
With joy,
Gwen
