Friday truth

Yesterday my nine year old daughter left me this message on the magnetic splash back above the cooker,


I am always loved here.

This is the truth.

I am incredibly blessed, I have a family who love me, right here in the everyday messiness of our lives. And I love them.

I say to my six year old son regularly, ‘I love you all the time, when you behave and when you are naughty, when you are quiet and when you are LOUD, when I feel like loving you and when you are doing my head in! I love you all the time.’

I am loved all the time. When I feel I let my family down and when I am meticulously meeting each of their exacting needs. When I feel sadness deep in my bones and when I am life and soul of the party. When I see the world full of possibility and hope and when I am locked away with anxiety, barely noticing my surroundings. I am always loved here.

But the truth of this penetrates further.

A few years back there was a Sunday morning when I was helping with the kids work in church, something I always do with incredibly bad grace. On this particular morning I was with the 3-4 year olds. The leader of this group had that week been doing a bit about how we are all in God’s family and God loves all of us. As we moved towards craft time, He said – by way of follow-up,

“so… who does God love?”

I expected to hear the answer ‘me’ or ‘all of us’ shouted back, but this little girl, normally full of sass and cheek (she is my favourite) looked me right in the eyes and said totally sincerely;

“nice people who do good things”.

I quickly answered,

“No, lovely, God loves everyone, even people who do bad things. Even me or you when we do bad things. It doesn’t matter what we do, God just loves us anyway. All the same.”


Because this is the invitation of the gospel: to always be loved here.

I am always loved here. Regardless of my behaviour or my attitude, whether I feel it or not, at all times, in all circumstances, I am always loved here.

I am always loved here, when things are going well and I feel like a success, when I am suffering and feel full of anguish, when I acknowledge it and when I struggle to believe this truth, I am always loved here, right where I am.

I have not been invited to participate, or to play my part. I haven’t been enrolled because of my skills, or ability to play within the rules. I have been invited to know this truth. Invited to live in this knowledge:

I am always loved here.

You are always loved here.

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