And I’m thinking about God.
He is good.
You heard me? Good. As in PERFECT.
I grew up reading ancient tales of fickle gods. God’s who enslaved beautiful women to the underworld because they ate 9 pomegranate seeds from a feast offered to them. God’s who sat in the heavens, observing battles and interactions with an apathy induced by divine boredom. They were gods that fought not only with their subjects, but with themselves, too.
As I went about my business I was basking in the … lack of the fear that my God didn’t love me, I suppose you could call it. My God loves me with a love so perfect that it’s changing me to be more like Him. He loves me so completely that no one can add or take away from it.
My God is Good
And there’s nothing anybody can do about it.
Yeah.
