Difference? What Difference?

Speaker: Ed McBride

Date: September 14, 2025

When I made my trip-of-a-lifetime to Ireland and Scotland in late March and early April, one of the differences that struck me as not in keeping with our sense of modesty or decorum or propriety was their signs that invariably told us the direction to the toilets. Not rest rooms like our signs do, but toilets.

Now, the first time I saw that sign it kind of hit me that they seem to be not quite as “refined” as we are. I mean, our signs almost always say Rest Rooms with an arrow if they’re not close by, like in a Walmart or Home Depot. And almost always, right above the entrance to those little rooms. Rest rooms.

But not in those countries! They say it like it is. And when you think about it, that makes a lot more sense. After all, who goes into those rooms to rest? Resting is not part of the plan; it’s not the purpose of going through that door. In fact, not only do we not plan to rest in there, but we want to get in and out as quickly as possible, especially if it’s in a convenience store or gas station.

I did a little online research, and it seems that the term came into common usage right at the turn of the 20th century. It probably derived from a puritanical or Victorian focus on proper etiquette or prudence or civility or propriety.

At any rate, the Scots and the Gaels aren’t so squeamish it seems. And so, wherever there is a sign directing you to their “rest rooms” they are right out there with the word that cannot be confused with any other meaning.

I’m not a world traveler by any means. I can easily list the countries I’ve been in: India, Guatemala, Mexico, Canada, Scotland, England and Ireland. But I am well aware that we do indeed have many differences with the lifestyles and values and visions of people in those nations.

I was also intrigued by other little variations, like GIVE WAY on what we call YIELD signs, and the big one: driving on the wrong side of the road! Around this wonderful globe are some 7 billion people with differences in their mode of living not only from country to country, but from region to region. Not many of us here in the Northwest eat grits for breakfast. Or for any other meal for that matter. But the folks in the south do!

And then there’s haggis, “the national dish of Scotland, a type of pudding composed of the liver, heart, and lungs of a sheep (or other animal), minced and mixed with beef or mutton suet and oatmeal and seasoned with onion, cayenne pepper, and other spices. The mixture is packed into a sheep’s stomach and boiled.” Sounds awful (or offal if you prefer) but was actually very good.

Yeah, there are lots of differences in us humans, and when it comes down to it, we have individual differences. No two of us are alike. I’m not telling you anything profound of course because we’re all aware of those differences. We are each unique. No two of us are alike, not even identical twins.

But we do have one thing in common: we are made in the image of God. Genesis 1:26 establishes that:

Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.”

So God created man in his own image,
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them.

Now, keep in mind that that’s all of us. It’s not just those of us who have a personal relationship with Christ. Every human being is made in the image of God. Does that mean we actually look like him physically, that God does in fact exist in a body like ours? My simple answer is no. God is spirit, and mentally, humanity was created as a rational, volitional agent. In other words, human beings can reason and choose. This is a reflection of God’s intellect and freedom. Morally, humanity was created in righteousness and perfect innocence, a reflection of God’s holiness. Socially, humanity was created for fellowship. This reflects God’s triune nature and His love.

And that leads me to today’s selected verses, 1 Cor 4:7-8:

For who makes you different from anyone else? What do you have that you did not receive? And if you did receive it, why do you boast as though you did not? Already you have all you want! Already you have become rich! You have begun to reign—and that without us! How I wish that you really had begun to reign so that we also might reign with you!

I need to put this in perspective. The city of Corinth was—and is—down in the southern tip of Greece, the isthmus that extends into the Mediterranean Sea. Paul, in his third missionary journey, had established the church there, and, according to Acts 18:11, stayed for a year and a half, preaching and leading and growing the church. He ultimately moved on and wound up in Ephesus, a port city on the western side of today’s Turkey, where he was when writing to the Corinthian church.

While there he was getting reports about a lot of strife and discontent and disagreements among the members of the Corinthian church. He was responding to these reports by affirming the Lordship of Jesus Christ, and the need to focus on their community as believers and not on their differences. Among those difference was a reference Paul made earlier that some of the members were followers of Paul, some of Apollos, and some of Jesus. Paul was writing to affirm that Jesus is the one to follow.

I want to read to you the way The Message recites today’s verses:

For who do you know that really knows you, knows your heart? And even if they did, is there anything they would discover in you that you could take credit for? Isn’t everything you have and everything you are sheer gifts from God? So what’s the point of all this comparing and competing? You already have all you need. You already have more access to God than you can handle. Without bringing either Apollos or me into it, you’re sitting on top of the world—at least God’s world—and we’re right there, sitting alongside you!

Now, I am not suggesting that we here in our church have strife and disagreement over Spiritual truths. But when I was reading today’s passage the other day, that question, “For who makes you different from anyone else?” just popped off the page at me.

What makes me different from anyone else?

The NIV Application Bible, in a side-note, says this: “Paul’s writing in this verse drips with irony and sarcasm.” He is asking this question in the midst of trying to understand why the Corinthian parishioners can’t get along. But it said something different to me: What makes me different from anyone else? What makes us different from anyone else?

In keeping with Steve’s theme of his current series of messages of equipping, this seems like an essential, rock-bottom question. Again looking at the NIV Application Bible notes, there is this comment:

“Paul’s instructions in 1 Corinthians give practical advice to the church today. (1) The most important quality for a church is unity among its members. Squabbles and infighting are signs of spiritual immaturity. (2) Unity can never be achieved without a love that seeks the good of others. (3) No Christians ought to think that they are better than others. Boasting about what one has received from God destroys rather than builds up the church. (4) God is not pleased with a haphazard manner of doing things in the church; there should be order in the way the church operates. (5) The church ought to be concerned about its reputation in society; in its witness it must bring glory to Christ, the head of the church.

Taking those points one at a time, I think we can readily accept #(1), “The most important quality for a church is unity among its members.” I’m not aware of any essential variances in our collective understanding—and acceptance—of the Lordship of Jesus, our salvation through his sacrifice, the grace of God to forgive us, our need to seek forgiveness and to repent of our sins, and the reconciliation of mankind to him through Jesus Christ. We may vary some in the application, in the depth of our faith, the extent that we give ourselves over to Christ, or the way that we respond to his calling, but we don’t disagree on the basics.

#(2), “Unity can never be achieved without a love that seeks the good of others,” is a bit more challenging, isn’t it? “A love that seeks the good of others” means putting others ahead of ourselves. That’s not always easy, is it? Max Lucado asks this question:

“When you love the unloving, you get a glimpse of what God does for you. When you love liars, cheaters, and heartbreakers, are you not doing what God has done for us?”

Now let that settle in for a moment. When we love the unloving, we get a glimpse of what God does for us. If we’re honest with ourselves, we have to admit we screw up, some days more so than others. And here I’m not talking about those little irritations that affect us all when we make a mistake. I’m not talking about our blurting out something hurtful to another person. I’m not talking about the resentment we may feel when someone offends us. I’m talking about how we respond to such incidents. Do we respond as Jesus would have us do, or as we would have us do?

According to more than one source I came across, the key verse in all of 1 Corinthians is 13:13: “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

We mess up all the time, at least according to the standards God has set for us. And yet he loves us anyway! Note the second part of that question posed by Lucado: “When you love liars, cheaters, and heartbreakers, are you not doing what God has done for us?” It ain’t easy to love cheaters, liars and heartbreakers, is it? Love is paramount. “Unity can never be achieved without a love that seeks the good of others.” Note the phrase “seeks the good of others.” We don’t love those scofflaws because of what they did, we love them in spite of what they did. I think it’s fair to say that when we recite every Sunday, “Our faith is in loving others as we love ourselves, and loving God with all our heart, mind, soul and strength” can be a real challenge sometimes. The loving God part with all we have maybe not so much, but loving others as we love ourselves, oh, yeah!

#(3) in that list above: “No Christians ought to think that they are better than others,” seems simple and straightforward enough, doesn’t it? But do we fall into that trap on occasion? That’s really gliding into the realm of judgment, isn’t it? When you pause to think about it, we have our hands full just keeping our own relationship with God intact; who has time or energy to try to ascertain the depth of faith of others? That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t always be ready to share the Good News whenever and wherever the opportunity arises, but I think the key word there is “share.” And the best way I know to do that is to let someone else know how my faith in God has made my life better. I don’t do a good job of it but I know it’s the best way.

(4) “God is not pleased with a haphazard manner of doing things in the church; there should be order in the way the church operates.” Some folks might suggest that that’s what we’re seeing in too many up and coming churches and denominations today: too much emphasis on “feel good,” and special effects, and incorporating contemporary secular values in order to attract younger people. They may be right: it’s okay, I think, if our worship services today differ from those of, say, 30, 40 or 50 years ago.

I can easily remember when virtually all men attending this church wore a coat and tie to church, if not a suit then at least a sport coat. And of course the preachers were always robed. I don’t really know when that went out of fashion, or when we drifted into being more casual, but I guess it’s like so many changes that take place in life—it just sort of evolved.

And of course, the ladies were always in dresses, most in hats. I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that we have ladies right here in these times in this church who continue that tradition, and I say, God bless ‘em. Connie used to say that she had an aunt whose common expression was, “I’m going to meet the king today, and I must dress accordingly.”

This isn’t to say that the way we dress today—much more casually—somehow lessens our attitude of worship, because I firmly believe that it doesn’t. If we come with open hearts and searching minds, and are ready to receive the love and discipline of God in the service, and if we truly feel love for each and every person we meet here, then we come with the right attitude.

That #(4) ends with, “there should be order in the way the church operates.” We meet that criteria, I believe. We have officers elected to both business and Spiritual roles, and the opportunity for individual members to always share their thoughts and ideas. It was a bumpy ride at times breaking the ties with the United Methodist Church, but I for one—and I think many here agree—feel we are stronger now than ever.

And finally, #(5): “The church ought to be concerned about its reputation in society; in its witness it must bring glory to Christ, the head of the church.” Frankly, that may be our biggest challenge. We all get compliments now and then. Even I get one once in a while. And what do I do? I have learned to quietly say “thank you” and leave it at that.

All too often there is a tendency to try to “humble down” the compliment by saying something like, “Oh, it’s a really simple recipe, not hard at all,” or, “Well, if you look closely you’ll see that I made some mistakes when putting this together,” or, “Oh, I should have mentioned this one other thing when I gave my presentation,” or, “It was really nothing, I was happy to drive her to Spokane to the doctor.” Or whatever. I call that “humbling down.” And I’m not criticizing that. I’m not saying those responses aren’t sincere. But as humans we try to respond to someone’s kind words by “humbling down,” making it seem like it was nothing.

In one sense, I think such a  “humbling down” response can even demean the intent of the complimenter. They’re saying in all sincerity, “That was a good thing you did,” and our response is, “Oh, no it wasn’t.” “And here’s why.”

And so, to the best of my ability, I try to say, “thank you” now, rather than come up with explanation why it wasn’t that great.

But guess what? That’s not the right response either! Why not, when replying, give God the glory? Let the person know you were doing whatever you just did to honor God’s place in your life, and if it was good enough to garner an accolade, pass the accolade on to the one who really deserves it.

We have to keep in mind that we represent this church—the Colfax Community Church—when we’re out and about. We help foster its reputation in society; our witness, individually and corporately, must bring glory to Christ. I have no doubt that our church took a few hits from outsiders when our plans to separate from the Methodist Church began to get known. We should not presume that it was a totally internal thing, isolated from the prying eyes of the general public. And no doubt there were some cynics who may have thought, or said that it’s just another example of a single church splintering off from the main body, which seems to be something Christian churches are constantly doing. “Can’t they ever get their act together? Do Christian churches always have to be in turmoil? They preach love and peace and tranquility, but they sure don’t practice it when they seem to bicker all the time.”

Well, that’s behind us now, and hopefully is fading in the memories of onlookers. The best thing we can do now—the greatest thing we can do—is to witness to the glory of Christ. Frankly, I don’t think our disaffiliation caused all that much of a ripple in our secular society, but it was and is a known fact. To those who might criticize us for this action we can in all honesty say it was indeed our way of witnessing to the glory of Christ. We could no longer align our beliefs with those of the main body, and to have continued in that mode would have greatly debased the very goal we are aiming for: witnessing to the glory of Christ.

Remember: every time we interact with another person not in our church family we are representing our church. I’m making a pledge to myself to do a better job of that agency, to be a spokesman for a God-fearing, God-led, God-imbued congregation of worshippers. You are welcome to join me.

I have a desk-top figurine at home—I did have it here in the office when I was pastoring—that has the inscription:

A bell isn’t a bell until you ring it;

A song isn’t a song until you sing it.

The love that is in you wasn’t meant there to stay;

Love isn’t love until you give it away.

Let’s pray:

Loving God, may we always be aware of your constant presence with us, not just in worship, not just in prayer, not just when reading your Word, but all the time. We pray that that very presence will motivate us to put ourselves aside and let you be our guide and leader. We know that we need you all the time, Lord. Help us to be spokesmen for you in whatever circumstance we find ourselves. Through your Holy Spirit equip us to always be top-rate ambassadors for you and for the church. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

You’re Welcome!

Speaker: Ed McBride

Date: July 27, 2025

As many of you know, I lost my little dog, Ozzie a month or so ago when he was hit by a car. I miss that little rascal. I would tell people that we were just a couple of aging bachelors growing old together. He had just turned nine, so, while that made him, in dog years, what we would call middle-aged, given that a dog moves through life at a faster pace than we do, he was destined to one day catch up with me and pass me up.

But that wasn’t to be. His life came to an abrupt end sort of in the prime of it. We got Ozzie, a Shi-Tzu, when he was just a puppy, newly weaned, from a lady in Spokane. After we got home with him, we started working on a name. I would come up with something and Connie would nix it. Then, she would offer a suggestion and it was my turn to reject. After it was obvious that we weren’t making headway, we sort of postponed the matter to a later time.

I picked up the Spokesman-Review and a front-page article featured Spokane County’s seemingly famous (and somewhat infamous as well) Ozzie Knezovich. I said, “Hey, what about Ozzie?” and Connie said an enthusiastic “Yeah!”

It soon became apparent that Ozzie was Connie’s dog. Oh, he liked me okay, but as dog typically do, he had a favorite and it was her. I remember how, when she would be on the couch reading or watching TV, he’d jump up and then start easing his way toward her. Slowly, slowly, but inevitably. She knew he wanted to get on her lap, and she would say, “No” maybe two or three times. But, you could count on it, he’d end up there.

For whatever reason, I’ve never cared much for dogs or cats on my lap. Unless it’s on my terms, when I just am in the mood. But, to just come along and crawl up on me when I’m doing something else just never appealed to me. Maybe that’s why Ozzie favored Connie over me. He knew that I would likely put him down if he tried it.

When Connie died it was obvious that Ozzie mourned this loss, in the only way dogs can mourn. He was just sort of lost for at least a couple of weeks. When he did recover from this loss, he didn’t have any options but to become more attached to me, maybe more by default at first than by choice.

But in time we did become good buddies. Like most dogs, he would get totally excited when I’d come in the door, whether I’d been gone all day or had just gone to the mailbox. Earlier this year I went to bed with him locked in the basement. He would go down there and sleep on the chair next to me while I watched a movie or whatever. In the morning I heard him barking and I realized what I’d done.

But you know what? Rather than show some resentment or disappointment in me for ignoring him—for abusing him—he was so excited to see me! I heard someone say, “Lock your wife and your dog in the garage overnight, and see which one is happy to see you in the morning.”

Anyway, over time we seemed to develop some rituals. One of them was my giving him a pill every day. Ozzie was diagnosed by the good Dr. McGraw with an allergy that was controlled by a daily Aquapel pill. Actually, half a pill because of his small size—about nine pounds. I would use what are called Pill Treats—little soft round things that you drop the pill into and then give it to the dog. As is so often the case, especially small dogs, Ozzie would swallow it whole without chewing it or savoring its flavor for even a nanosecond.

And then I would follow that up with another treat—a bacon shaped strip called Beggin’. Now, here is the interesting part: after he took the strip, he would look me in the eye as if to say, “Thank you,” and I would say, “You’re welcome,” and then he’d go off to eat it.

And one day right after this little daily ritual, I got to wondering, where did that practice of saying “you’re welcome” come from? Why do we say it? Well, I decided to do a little research. Meaning, going online.

The first site I pulled up makes the statement, “You’re welcome” as a response to “thank you” makes absolutely no sense. You’re welcome to what? It goes on to give a sort of history and states, “The first references to welcome are found in Beowolf.” You’ve heard of Beowulf, right? Well, here’s a quick summary, from what else? Wikipedia:

Bēowulf [ˈbeːowuɫf]) is an Old English poem, an epic in the tradition of Germanic heroic legend consisting of 3,182 alliterative lines, contained in the Nowell Codex. It is one of the most important and most often translated works of Old English literature. 

It goes on to say it is presumed to have been written somewhere between 675 and 1025 AD. I am somewhat familiar with the tome because it was required reading in my high school junior English class. At least, some of it, as I don’t recall having to read all 3,182 alliterative lines. And I don’t remember a darn thing about it.

And then, the Bard himself, William Shakespeare, in one of his most-read and most-produced pieces, Othello, penned the phrase, (circa 1603):

“Lodovico: Madam, good night; I humbly thank your ladyship. Desdemona: Your honour is most welcome.”

This same website goes on to say, “The welcome in you’re welcome is a statement saying: ‘I would do this for you again, if asked.’” (i.e. You’re welcome to ask me again.) It also implicates pleasure in the response. You are pleased to have been of some help, whether it’s simply pointing a newcomer to town in the right direction, or loaning something like your umbrella to a friend, or helping someone interpret a difficult phrase in a book, or even sharing a cup of coffee you just brewed. And, if you accept the explanation from that website, you’re saying, “Of course, and I’d do it again if needed.”

Not surprisingly, I didn’t find a website that offered a biblical or Christian aspect to the background of the phrase, “You’re welcome.” Numerous references and uses of the word “welcome”—forty or so in the NIV—including three references in the Old Testament.

So, where am I going with this? Well, think about how often, when we pray, that we thank God for something or someone. It’s hard for me to imagine praying without a “thank you” in there somewhere. Often, it’s where we start, isn’t it? If nothing else, we thank him for hearing us, for opening himself to listen to what we have to say to him, even though he has a whole universe, actually a limitless multiverse, to look after.

And how can we be assured that he does hear us and respond in his own way and according to his own will? Because he says “you’re welcome.” He says it in the beauty of nature; he says it in the grandeur of lofty mountains and fertile valleys; he says it in the people closest to us and who mean the most to us; he says it in the church services we take part in; he says it in the new people we meet and the new places we go; he says it in the familiar places we go; he says it in the very life he has breathed into us; he says it in the words we read in his Holy Book; he says it in the eternal gift of his Son, Jesus Christ.

God says, “You’re welcome” in more ways than we can count, or even fathom.

My selected scripture reading today is Psalm 19:1-2, but actually I want to expand that reference to the first 6 verses of that Psalm:

The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
2 Day after day they pour forth speech;
night after night they reveal knowledge.
3 They have no speech, they use no words;
no sound is heard from them.
4 Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,
their words to the ends of the world.
In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun.
5 It is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,
like a champion rejoicing to run his course.
6 It rises at one end of the heavens
and makes its circuit to the other;
nothing is deprived of its warmth.

You’ll notice that the psalmist—and this Psalm is attributed to David—alludes to the fact that the heavens and the skies have no voice, no speech, and “yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.” The NIV Application Bible says this about the first four verses of Psalm 19:

Inanimate creation is given voice as the heavens and skies “declare,” “proclaim,” and “pour forth speech” (vv. 1–2) in praise of the Creator. This is a continual outcry of nature—from the past until now and into the future.

Max Lucado, in his NKJV Lucado Encouraging Word Bible, shares this thought:

“Our universe is God’s preeminent missionary. “The heavens declare the glory of God” (Ps 19:1). A house implies a builder; a painting suggests a painter. Don’t stars suggest a star maker?

“Doesn’t creation imply a creator? “The heavens proclaim his righteousness” (Ps 97:6). Look above you.

“Think about the things that exist—and what that means about how those things came to be. What do you see in creation that makes you realize that God is a most loving (and creative!) Creator?”

And then, back to the NIV Application Bible, the question for growth asks: Ps 19:6: “How do we see God’s glory and work displayed in creation? What part of creation makes us marvel the most in the Creator?”

Now, cogitate on that question for a few moments: what part of creation makes us marvel the most in our Creator?

Do we marvel at gorgeous spring days?

Do we marvel at the beauty of nature?

Do we marvel at the star-lit sky at night?

Do we marvel at the northern lights—the aurora borealis?

Do we marvel at the golden and red and orange leaves in the fall?

What about marveling at a pouring rain that stops a planned softball game or a wedding or simply a picnic?

What about marveling at a massive blizzard that brings traffic to a stop?

What about marveling on a 108Õ August day?

What about marveling when a loved one dies?

What about marveling when your child is sick?

What about marveling at the casino’s slot machine?

No, maybe we don’t marvel so much at those times of inconvenience and loss and worry and challenge and temptation. But they are there. They are just as much a part of God’s creation (and mankind’s tweaking—or outright bending it—as breathing and thinking and walking and talking.

And God says, “You’re welcome.”

And he also says, “I would do this for you again, if asked. You’re welcome to ask me again.” (Remember the definition of “You’re welcome” that we looked at earlier?)

And this maybe gets to the heart of my message today.

Perhaps one of the most critical elements of prayer is seeking God’s forgiveness. It’s certainly part of my daily prayers. Even if I would somehow overlook that plea in my “normal” babbling (sometimes I feel like that’s what I’m doing, but hopefully God can sift through the gibberish and detect my deepest thoughts and petitions), I’ll for sure say it when I wrap up with the Lord’s Prayer—“forgive me my trespasses as I forgive those who trespasses against me.” Or, “forgive me my sins as I forgive those who sin against me.” Or, “forgive me my debts as I forgive my debtors.” Or, “forgive me for doing wrong as I forgive others.”

Without a doubt, seeking forgiveness for our many transgressions against God’s standards is—or should be—a central focus, a core value, an absolute rock-solid element of our prayers. If at no other time, we do it every Sunday when we recite the Lord’s Prayer in unison.

The Bible is replete with references to forgiveness. One of the passages that so well asserts Jesus’ status as God’s Son—in essence God himself—is found in Matthew 9:1-8:

Jesus stepped into a boat, crossed over and came to his own town. 2 Some men brought to him a paralyzed man, lying on a mat. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the man, “Take heart, son; your sins are forgiven.”

3 At this, some of the teachers of the law said to themselves, “This fellow is blaspheming!”

4 Knowing their thoughts, Jesus said, “Why do you entertain evil thoughts in your hearts? 5 Which is easier: to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up and walk’? 6 But I want you to know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.” So he said to the paralyzed man, “Get up, take your mat and go home.” 7 Then the man got up and went home. 8 When the crowd saw this, they were filled with awe; and they praised God, who had given such authority to man.

Or, how about the story of the ten lepers, as we read in Luke 17:11-18:

Now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus traveled along the border between Samaria and Galilee. 12 As he was going into a village, ten men who had leprosy met him. They stood at a distance 13 and called out in a loud voice, “Jesus, Master, have pity on us!”

14 When he saw them, he said, “Go, show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed.

15 One of them, when he saw he was healed, came back, praising God in a loud voice. 16 He threw himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him—and he was a Samaritan.

17 Jesus asked, “Were not all ten cleansed? Where are the other nine? 18 Has no one returned to give praise to God except this foreigner?” 19 Then he said to him, “Rise and go; your faith has made you well.”

In the story of the lame guy who got up and walked home, we aren’t told if he took time to thank Jesus for his miraculous healing, but it’s hard to imagine that he didn’t. With the ten lepers, only one of them who was healed—an outcast Samaritan no less—came back and profusely thanked him.

Now, we aren’t told if Jesus said “You’re welcome” to either the paralytic or leper, but can’t we infer it, if not in his outright speech, but in his mind and heart? I think we can also infer it when we prayerfully and sincerely seek God’s forgiveness. God forgives us our trespasses through his endless, empowering, all-consuming, overwhelming, limitless and absolutely all-powerful grace.

I honestly think that when we ask God to forgive us, he does so with a “you’re welcome” attitude. He is happy to forgive, and he goes one step further—a tough one sometimes for we mere mortals—he forgets! We get to start over, often illustrated with the phrase, “a clean slate.”

A clean slate. That one must go back literally thousands of years, because in the historical context of man’s residency here on Earth, slates were used far longer than paper tablets or chalkboards or notepads. Or cellphones.

Maybe it’s time to upgrade that “clean slate” phrase and start saying, “a wiped cellphone.” Or “a thoroughly debugged laptop.”

But I digress.

I honestly think that God is saying “You’re welcome, and I would do this for you again, if asked.” (i.e. You’re welcome to ask me again.) We are welcome to ask God’s forgiveness over and over and over. And he will forgive. And if we’re really tuned into him, we might just hear him say, or at least imply, “You’re welcome.”

I will close with this quote from my favorite author, Max Lucado:

Most people suffer from small thoughts about God. In an effort to see him as our friend, we have lost his immensity. In our desire to understand him, we have sought to contain him. The God of the Bible cannot be contained. He brought order out of chaos and created creation. With a word he called Adam out of dust and Eve out of a bone. He consulted no committee. He sought no counsel.

He has no peer. “I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me” (Isa 46:9). The greatest kings have surrendered their crowns. Alexander the Great is a mound of dust in a tomb. The queen of England is called Her Majesty, yet she must eat and bathe and rest. The True Majesty, on the other hand, is never hungry. He never sleeps. He has never needed attention or assistance.

From the tiniest microbe to the mightiest mountain, he “sustain[s] all things by his powerful word” (Heb 1:3).

He has authority over the world, and he has authority over your world. Your sleep patterns. Your eating habits. Your salary. The traffic of your commute. The arthritis in your joints. God reigns over all these. He’s never surprised. He has never, ever uttered the phrase “How did that happen?”

God’s power is unsurpassed.

Spend some quiet time in a park, a peaceful neighborhood, or your own backyard. Be still, breathe deeply, and focus on God’s creation as you remind yourself that God has everything in his control.

Let’s pray:

Heavenly Father, you are our rock and our redeemer. You ask nothing of us but to put our full faith and trust in you, and to walk the path you have laid out for each of us. We do seek your forgiveness for the many times we stray off that path, but we know that if we sincerely thank you for that forgiveness, you will grant it and you will do so in a way that reminds us of your infinite power and goodness, and also in a way that echoes the words, “You’re welcome.” In Jesus’ name, Amen.