“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattest calf and kill it. Let’s have a big dinner and celebrate. This son of mine was dead. And now he is alive again. He was lost. And now he is found.’" Luke 15:21-24
I was a third-grader the first time I recognized God's grace pouring over and through "such a wretch" as I. Pantsuits were the newest and neatest little outfits a girl could have and I didn't own one. Audrey did, though. Angelic Audrey always seemed to have what caught our teacher's eye and approval. She was tiny and had Shirley Temple curls, a little purse that held tissues and a tube of Chapstick, and her mother was the PTA chairperson, wielding Audrey inexplicable power over teachers and administrators.
One Friday, Audrey showed up in a red pantsuit. When I heard our sweet, beautiful teacher exclaim, "What an adorable pantsuit!"" as adorable Audrey twirled with an "I'm adored" glow, the green-eyed monster arose within my eight-year-old heart and I bit into the apple (a green one, I'm sure). Jealousy led to lying as I tapped my teacher on the arm to say, "I have a pantsuit (lie) - a blue one (lies, all lies) - it's at home and I'll wear it Monday (liar, liar, pantsuit's on fire!)." My teacher smiled and said, "Oh, I can't wait to see it!" That's when the apple bit back.
Welcome to the longest bus ride in history. The bumps in the road were nothing compared to the pounding I experienced sweating out my sin and my dilemma between Kennesaw Elementary and Melody Lane. Monday, hateful day, smothered me against the window as I contemplated the trap I had created. Closing my eyes, I saw myself sneaking through the classroom door on Monday. But, my teacher would spot me with the eyes in the back of her head and run to me in eager anticipation. Then as the awful truth hit her that I wasn't wearing a pantsuit of any color, confusion and disappointment would cover her face and gradually turn to horror as she realized she had a liar in her class. I would, of course, spend the rest of the school year under a table in the back of the room wearing a sign and probably a dunce hat.
What had I done? What could I do?
I prayed. "God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I lied. I'm sorry. Make her forget what I said. I'll never lie again, if You'll just make her forget what I said and don't let her ever say anything about a pantsuit."
It never once occurred to me that God might have another way of dealing with His little liar. Never once. My family bought clothes at the beginning of the school year, sometimes Christmas, Easter, and maybe for birthdays. I limited God to my eight-year-old way of thinking and could never have imagined forgiveness with grace for such an outright sin.
When I arrived home, glum and weighted down, my mother seemed excited. She escorted me to my room where a navy blue pantsuit lay across my bed. My heart burst - with relief and gratitude. Mama probably didn't know what to think about my reaction, since I enjoyed clothes but had never swooned over them. Did I say, "No, mother, I don't deserve this, for I have lied to my teacher and must suffer the consequences?" No way! I was too young not to appreciate the gift, the grace God (so obviously God through my mother) had laid on my bed for me.
The invisible God I went to church to worship; the bleeding Jesus on the cross; and the eerie Holy Ghost Who always watched me - all became the Friend of a most humble child that day. For the first time in my young life, I knew God wasn't out to get me and didn't delight in punishing His children. In fact, the God I fell in love with that day is the God Who goes beyond forgiving to pouring out blessing after blessing on His repentant, prodigal, lying children.
Don't be too mature, too sophisticated, too self-incriminating, too dignified, or too ridiculous not to take God's gifts when He gives them. Just humbly swoop and swoon."Jesus said, “What I’m about to tell you is true. You need to change and become like little children. If you don’t, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." Luke 18:3
