Bookkeeping

This is the only word in the English language (besides “bookkeeper”) that has three double letters— b-O-O-K-K-E-E-p-i-n-g. I guess you could call it a triple-double.

I learned this fun fact years ago in Economics 101. We had a visiting professor from Boston who wrote the word in large letters on the chalkboard one morning. It’s the only thing I remember from that class. I dropped Econ soon after, figuring that at least I learned something. More than forty years later, I still can’t explain supply and demand, but I know the only word with three double letters.

I admit I am a bookkeeper at heart. I have a detailed budget book, I keep every receipt in envelopes by the month, and I balance our checkbook to the penny.

Attention to details is one of my strengths.

It’s helpful when PB needs to be reminded what time his appointment is, or when I keep track of whose turn it is to deal, or when I rattle off all eleven grandkids’ birth dates.

But there’s a flip side.

It’s not helpful when I remind PB of the “right” way to load the dishwasher, or when I keep track of who won the card game last week, or when I rattle off others’ mistakes.

God is big into details.
Just look at that swirly pattern on your fingertip.
Take a close look at the inside a lily-of-the-valley.
Try to call all the stars in the Milky Way galaxy by name.

But God doesn’t seem to be big on bookkeeping.
In fact, God took the sinless Christ and poured my sins into Him.
Then, in exchange, God’s goodness was poured into me. (2 Cor. 5:21)

That kind of transaction really messes up the books.

He remembers our sins no more (Heb. 8:12).
He blots them out for His own sake (Is. 43:25).
He removes them as far as the east is from the west (Ps. 103:12).

What kind of a bookkeeper does that?

God reconciled the world to himself through Christ,
by not counting people’s sins against them.
2 Corinthians 5:19

Glory hallelujah!

Wonky

I miss this.

A few years ago, in an effort to upscale our home’s curb appeal, I sent for a set of decorative garage door hardware magnets. From the road, the black plastic rectangles, hinges and handles looked like the real deal. There was only one problem.

Teddy is our three year old grandson. He and his sister and his parents stayed with us for a while this summer. He regularly exposed us for the fakers we are by rearranging the magnetic pieces. Children have a way of keeping you honest. And humble.

Teddy and his family recently moved to their own place and the garage door has looked respectable ever since. But I miss the unexpected reminders of the joy of imperfection. I used to smile as I drove in the driveway and saw those handles helter-skelter on the garage door. It prompted me to pray, “Lord, sometimes I put on a fake front and try to look like everything is perfectly in place. Help me to be authentic and real, even if my life looks a little wonky some days.”

“But when the Perfect One comes, the imperfect will pass away.”
1 Cor. 13:10