I have a distinct memory of being roughly nine-ish years old, and playing with a folding knife in the garage which I had found among my dad's tools. After playing with it for a while I tried to close the blade, only to realize that it was a lock-blade, a concept which my nine year old brain and fingers had yet to be able to fully comprehend. After several minutes of trying in vain to close it, I finally realized that I was not going to be able to hide the fact that I'd defied instructions and played with Dad's tools without permission.

Rather than wait around for my dad to make the inevitable discovery, I decided to take matters into my own hands, and throw myself upon the mercy of the court. I set my jaw, marched from the garage into the living room, and stood tall in front of my parents as they sat watching tv on the couch. "What's going on, Johnny?" they asked, obviously seeing the look of resolute determination on my face as I stared into the face of certain death. "I played with Dad's knife in the garage," I declared, "and now I can't close it."

Dad promptly got up, went into the garage to investigate, and then returned moments later, his adult hands deftly solving the problem that my tiny fingers could not. He then led me by the hand to the master bedroom, a place synonymous with pain and retribution, and gave me a very measured and robust swat on the butt with a wooden paddle. Even though it stung, I was impressed by the fact that it had been a single swat, instead of the customary two or three which such a brazen act of defiance might usually have merited. I learned that day that if you make a mistake, it's much better for your conscience (and for your backside) if you own up to it rather than trying to cover it up.

One thing that never ceases to amaze me is the frequency with which Christians who are “on fire for God” do stupid and sinful things (I include myself in this indictment, so don’t get defensive). Although most of us claim to have a saving faith in Jesus Christ, and show many outward signs of the transformative work of the Holy Spirit in our lives, we all find ourselves time and again falling into old habits and traps that have caught us a thousand times. Even highly popular and respected Christian leaders have at times been exposed to grueling ridicule as their private failures revealed them to be no better than the “sinners” whom they seek to tame.

I think sometimes we’re all guilty of harboring the secret fear that God might be angry at us. I know I struggle with that from time to time, and I’ve been a Christian long enough that I should “know better” by now. The New Testament is literally brimming with verses about God’s unending love and his unlimited patience. Yet we all go through seasons throughout life (or even throughout a single day) when we suspect that God must be angry at us for some offense we committed.  The idea of a judgmental God represented by a long-bearded, white-robed man sitting on a throne is not new. It started for most of us in children’s church, when we saw God represented through cute cartoon drawings designed to teach us all about him and how he loves his children and wants us all to believe in his son Jesus. As we grew older, and learned to be more rebellious towards our parents, that haunting image of the man on the throne watching our every move began to sneak back into our minds. Even though we’ve heard all the sermons about the forgiveness that we have in Jesus, we still secretly suspect that the reason we don’t get the answers we want when we pray is because we did something wrong.