Everybody, Always

whacked relationship.
What if we simply talked about the things we love? People do that
with sports and cars and music and food. None of them keep track of how
many times they talk about these things. We talk about what we love the
most. People who are becoming love talk a lot more about what God’s
doing than what they’re doing because they’ve stopped keeping score.
The next time you’re tempted to boast, just say under your breath,
“It’s not about me.” Say it a dozen times a day. Say it a thousand times a
month. Say it when you wake up and when you go to sleep. Say it again
and again: “It’s not about me. It’s not about me.” Say it when you bless a
meal or do something wonderful or selfless or when you help hurting
people. Make it your anthem and your prayer. When we keep track of the
good we’ve done or love people with an agenda, it’s no longer love; it’s
just a bunch of tickets. We can either keep track of all the good we’ve
done or all the good God’s done. Only one will really matter to us. In the
end, none of us wants to find out we traded the big life Jesus talked about
for a box full of worthless acknowledgment.
One of the challenges I have in not keeping track of everything I’ve
done for Jesus is that I remember everything. I don’t try to; I just do. I
feel like Rain Man. I remember every kind thing I’ve ever done for
anyone. There’s a bigger problem. I remember everyone who’s ever
wronged me or done something I thought was unfair. I’m a lawyer. I
guess it just comes with the turf. I’ve taken and passed the bar exam in
three states on the first try. For one of them, I only studied for a week and
a half before taking it. The reason? I can memorize things. And that’s
gotten in the way of me becoming love, because people who turn into
love don’t keep track anymore. They don’t memorize the good or bad
they or anyone else have done. They memorize grace instead. Jesus didn’t
do any of the relational math either. He just became Love, and the
world’s never been the same.
The promise of love and grace in our lives is this: Our worst day isn’t
bad enough, and our best day isn’t good enough. We’re invited because