Following a wild weekend infused with too much liquor and marijuana, too much testosterone, and its fair share of drama, I couldn't have had a worse Monday. But with the help of my best friend, brother, and someone to hold my hair as I threw up all the contents of my stomach on Monday morning, my blessings dawned upon me. Not only will there always be someone to help you get back on your feet, but you have to find the strength within yourself. Because God gave you lungs to breathe and feet to walk, not to be wasted but to be used.
Another important lesson found itself at my door today. It never hurts to apologize. You never know what that one word uttered can do. While covering and repairing all harm done is not in its power, the simple word sorry is like a pebble dropped into a still pond. The ripples ricochet in all directions, affecting more than two words seem to have the ability to do.
Lastly, we are all victims of a terribly real love of a Savior beyond comprehension. Sin is only a slight encumbrance that has no jurisdiction over the love of our Maker. This love is unparalleled, unprecedented and incomparable to any other, more vast even than a mother's for her child. This love stretches to the depths of our wounds and our brokenness, and whispers to the shattered pieces left of us that no action is too unforgivable. And despite the sinner behind these words, I no longer find myself defined by that word. Instead, I am a child, a treasure, of a matchless King, who lifts me after I have stumbled, who loves me after skipping church due to a hangover, who talks to me when none of my friends will, who assures me of my worth when all say I have none.
