Scratch

It is a strange realization to me that when Jesus looks at me each day, and I bring up my faults and put them before Him, He has a gracious memory. He knows the residual fallout of my sinful choices, the consequences of my errant decisions. But when it comes to a reckoning, when He calls on me to face Him, and I can’t because I’m too ashamed, I face then the true love of Him. I am sorry. I truly am, I tell Him. His mercy is the assauaging healer for a wartorn soul. And His goodness burns off the wrath.