From my earliest childhood memories I heard it said that no one likes a tattletale. And from my earliest childhood memories I noted that this warning did little to dissuade my peers and I from doing the telling, especially if we had the goods on an enemy.
I also noticed that adults were exempt from the label. They were never tattling. They were well-meaning informants doing us kids a “favor.” I get that now. I dreaded it back then when I knew someone was headed to my parents with less than stellar news about my conduct.
“I’m telling,” struck fear in my grade school heart on more than one occasion, especially when adults featured it in the choice that really wasn’t a choice at all. “Either you tell your parents what you’ve done, or I’ll tell them.” Unfortunately, there was never a door number three.
Missing the mark was painful then, and it’s painful now, although it’s no longer my parents that I aim to please and end up disappointing despite the best of intentions. These days, I’m addicted to the sweet fellowship of heaven and nothing in me wants to disrupt that precious relationship, and yet I still do.
Maybe you can relate.
If so, let me give you the encouragement that buoys me. My enemy might beat me to the throne of God but he can’t ever outrun my Jesus. No power of heaven, no source on earth, and no demon in hell can outrun the grace of Christ.
It’s impossible for you and I to take our repentant selves to the throne without finding Jesus is already there. And glory hallelujah, He’s not there to rub it in. Jesus is there to intercede on our behalf, to remind His Father and ours that the punishment for our sins has been met through the Cross.
When we fall short, let’s be quick to take our confession to God’s throne, resting in the assurance that our Redeemer is waiting there to restore our souls.
Now, there’s a tale worth tattling!