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The end of April is fast approaching. So, get read for all those May flowers. Of course, that leads to Mother’s Day and then Memorial Day and backyard barbecues. All that wonderful evidence of Spring can help you forget that God hates you.

Anyway…

So, last week I had a nice conversation with some people who walked their Yorkie by the bungalow. We got to talkin’ about how they don’t make houses like the ones in our neighborhood anymore. And…pardon me?

What do you mean I left you hanging with the God hates you comment?

Oh, OK. I just read what I’ve written so far. And you’re right. I did write that “God hates you.” Yeah, I suppose that’s a bit harsh. And maybe I should clear that up a little. I didn’t actually mean He hates YOU. I meant He hates YOU, if and when you hate Him and when you prefer to riff on your own merry way.

But hat’s not YOU. Right?

OK. We’re clear now. So, let’s move on.

Yeah, these bungalows, from over 100 years ago, are certainly a lot more solid than modern houses. Oak flooring. Local stone foundations that surround the basement. It’s cool to see the workmanship and hand-nailed cabinetry, rafters, and trim. And you can tell they cared more because…huh? What’s that?

You don’t want me to talk about this old bungalow? You’d rather I explain what I mean about God’s hate?

OK, I will. But I sure didn’t think you’d be so curious about it. After all, it’s not like it’s a secret. He came right out and said it in His best-selling book of all time. And He made it clear who and what He hates.

So, if you don’t fit into the categories, don’t worry.

God says He hates the wicked. And I believe Him. Because He’s not a man. And He doesn’t lie.

But I also know He’d rather not hate anyone. It’s not His first choice to serve up a cup of fire. Or brimstone. Or burning wind. And that’s why He holds all those things in reserve for only those who hate Him or His children.

I don’t know about you. But I enjoy a good steaming cup of coffee on a brisk, quiet morning. And I’ve been known to partake of some spicy, hot barbecue sauce on my brisket. But I’d rather not even sample any of that hot stuff God will serve up for the wicked. No sir. I’m saving room for dessert (aka: Heaven).

I’d rather have an ice cream cone
Than a cup of fire and brimstone.
And I’d rather enjoy God’s love
Than burning winds from up above.
So, I say “yes” to all His word,
The parts I’ve read, the parts I’ve heard.
I know someday I’ll leave this place
And live forever in His grace.

© 2020

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Stay tuned,