Help Me Choose Grace Over Criticism

Theo came home from forest school this week buzzing, holding something up with both hands like it was a trophy.

It was a lump of mud pressed onto paper, moss stuck on in patches, a couple of twigs poking out at odd angles. He was so proud of it. And of course so was I.

But the whole time he was waving it around, dropping bits of mud and moss on the kitchen floor, there was a small, ungenerous voice in my head wondering how soon I could sneak it into the bin (what us Brits call the trash) without him noticing.

I meant every word of the praise. And at the exact same time, I was quietly cataloguing everything wrong with it.

I've been doing that to myself for years.

I look at where I am with God and all I can find is what's missing. Not enough time in the Word. Not enough progress. Not enough discipline.

I read back over something I wrote last month and wince. I'm my own harshest critic, running commentary underneath everything I make and do, the same commentary I was running underneath a four-year-old's mud sculpture.

I do the same with others as well. Not in a harsh way, but in "what can we improve" way.

I think it probably comes from studying music, where I had to notice mistakes in my playing and work to improve them to be able to play the piece perfectly. One wrong note in a piece full of hundreds and that was it - start again.

But that's not how God sees what we bring Him.

He doesn't clap politely while eyeing the bin. He doesn't tolerate the offering while cataloguing its flaws. He rejoices over it. Dirt, mud, and mess included.

I think that's what I actually want to give Theo: not performance praise while I secretly grade the finished product, but real delight that he made something and brought it to me.

And I think that's what I need to receive from God too. Not because He's lowering the bar, or being generous enough to overlook what's wrong. It's because of what forgiveness and grace actually does.

He doesn't tolerate the flaws, He removes them, as far as the east is from the west. There's no flawed version sitting next to the finished one for Him to compare. He genuinely isn't holding it against me.

So if you're your own worst critic today, tearing apart the very thing you were proud you even attempted, hear this...

God isn't clapping through gritted teeth. He's not forgiving you reluctantly, the way we sometimes forgive while still keeping score. He's already forgotten what you're so afraid He remembers. He already delights in what you brought Him.