WHAT a blessing that the Lord’s measure of forgiveness is not according to our fears, or even according to our faith.
“Ah!” says Satan, “you’ve done it again! Now God will not love you.” No, He still loves me—loves me when I fall—loves me when I am naughty. “Grandmother,” said a little girl, “do you love me?”
“Yes, dear, of course I do.”
“Do you love me when I am naughty?” “Yes, dear.”
The little one looked up into her grandmother’s kind, forgiving face, with some surprise, and said,
“My mother doesn’t love me when I’m naughty. I wish I lived with you.” “Why, May?”
“Because if you always loved me, I’d never be naughty.”
What good arguing! Loved, and so kept. Loved when naughty, and so kept from being naughty. May such a life— such a love, be ours. The love which passeth knowledge. The more we know of His love the more shall we be preserved from evil.
ML 11/28/1937