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the good girl

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    the good girl

    my daughter wrote this this morning. written from a heart, broken by an attack on her ministry to teen girls. good for all of us to remember.



    The good girl really loves God. REALLY loves Him. She knows that He is Good and Holy and she wants to please Him.

    The good girl works hard to be kind, to be long-suffering and to be faithful. He said He likes that.

    The good girl keeps at it, but sometimes she wonders if He notices her plugging away at purity and pouring herself out to repay Him—while the prodigal walks in, the cake is frosted and the band’s music plays. The party looks inviting and joyous. But it’s not her party.
    The good girl tries to be authentic and bear the fruit of self-control and integrity. She tries—really. And at the end of the day the good girl gathers her wits her about her and goes to be measured by Perfection Himself. Her throat burns. Her eyes are tired and her feet hurt but she stands on those tippy toes trying so hard to reach the notch on that stick that reads “ENOUGH.” Heart pounding, hope hanging in the balance, her day flashes before her eyes and she knows deep down inside that she tried so hard to be good. She was good. But not good ENOUGH. She buries her head in her hands and starts to back away, re-evaluating tomorrow—just maybe she’ll grow in goodness. And just maybe she’ll finally reach ENOUGH. Just that very minute He signals her to “wait.” She looks up to see One-a Man standing with scarred hands, feet, and head. He wears a crown and He holds a key inscribed “death.” He walks up to the stick, and as he more than reaches the notch, His name appears in the “measuring book”—written right over the good girl’s---in crimson. He turns to her—hands her the key, and an invitation simply marked “Elizabeth, THERE IS GRACE FOR YOU.” She understands this is the invitation to her party. And she understands that as there is now GRACE for her, she has so much more than she will ever need. She is occasionally tempted to be stingy with it, but she understands the directive that to receive grace is to give it out of outpouring of worship for the one who was ENOUGH when she couldn’t be.
    The good girl understands that not everyone will give her grace. I understand that from some other finite inhabitants of this broken world, grace is just not something they can always give. They forget and sometimes get stingy too. But while it’s hard to accept it (I mean, really? Are you sure you want to invite me, God? I’m spaz!) I understand that the grace I’ve been given is not mine for the hoarding. It’s to be liberally applied to others—as it was to me—even at times when I am wounded and at times when it feels more cathartic to withhold it because I’d rather stew in my bitterness. Yes, with a liberal application of blood-stained Grace I can be invited in. The good girl can finally rest free of the dreaded measuring stick and she can finally stop waving her own over others and find them wanting. She can give them an invitation marked, “THERE IS GRACE FOR YOU.”


    #2
    Your daughter inherited your writing skills. Very good!
    ♥ ♥ ♥
    The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save.
    Zeph 3:16

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      #3
      I'm so sorry she was hurt in this way, ((((((((((((((((Cookie)))))))))))))))))) . This is gorgeous.
      Catie

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        #4
        that's lovely and well written... Amen

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          #5
          This is beautiful and healing to read.
          'We all want Canaan without going through the wilderness.'
          Ravi Zachariah ❤️

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