I practically grew up in His house. Cut my first teeth on His belongings.
- The pews.
- Hymn books.
- Nursery toys.
I remember chasing my brothers and sisters through His sanctuary on rainy afternoons. We pushed an old Hoover over His carpets on Saturday nights.
Every once in a while some old saint would grab me by the scruff of my neck and tell me slow down. Or maybe they would catch me giggling in the middle of church.
“This is God’s House,” he or she would hiss in my ear, “Don’t you be misbehaving.”
All those angry looks, reprimands and hints of disapproval eventually formed the face of God.
- Not much into kids.
I figured that If I made Him mad enough He would squash me like a bug.
I thought I knew God but I was wrong.
What I heaped together was just a pile of other people’s misinterpretations, ignorance and fears.
The Bible is where we find out who God really is. Not opinions, random impressions or what somebody else feels.
Read the Word. Speak it out loud. Think about it all day long.