I drove 985 miles last week.
Home to Nashville to Georgia to Nashville to home. It was just me, Jesus, and my little blue car. I spent three to four hour trips at a time in prayer, singing along to the radio, and processing. There was laughter when I completely botched the high notes in sing-a-long songs. There were tears when Jesus and worship lyrics got the best of me. There were moments of bold prayer and moments of ridiculous car dancing.
It was healing. It was life-giving.
It was beautiful.
I finally heard it.
It ran deep to my soul and healed the jagged edges of my heart. He loves me and I have His approval. It’s not based on me and my efforts or on the approval or lack thereof from other people. It’s based solely and completely on God. He created me in His image. He gathered me up and said, “this one is Mine,” redeeming me on the cross and breathing new life into me. He delights in me and the relationship we have. He is continually working in me to make me a new creation, day by day. He’s not angry with me or searching to find fault in me the way I’ve so desperately searched myself. He isn’t speaking accusation over me; He is rejoicing over me with singing. He is gentle and kind, and His kindness leads to my repentance when I do fall short.
He loves me. He knows every bit of me.
And He approves of me.