What I should have been doing for a long time was ingesting more Bread of Life so more counsel could have flowed last night. What does one say to a 16-year old girl who was kicked out of her home and is now staggering under a very adult world? "God's the only one who knows how this story's going to end," I said. "I'd stick with the guy who knows what's going on." Guy? Since when has God been a guy? Oh my.
The things we bumbling humans say. Grasping for words we don't even mean. When the youth group was organizing a concert, it was my job to keep in contact with the band's agent. In the e-mails I sent to him, I was constantly trying to sugar-coat my descriptions of Randle, the Roxy, and how desperately poor our youth group is. It was pitiful how many times I deleted whole paragraphs for the sake of reality. And that phenomenon isn't isolated to the written word. If only I can delete paragraphs of speech!
The generousness of God is something for which I will always be thankful. His free grace is so sustaining. Another chance I don't deserve. Another chance to learn.