God Doesn’t Hold a Grudge (But I Might)

Blessed and Blameless (But Still Petty)

My husband and I are still in a cold war over the Great Thermostat Incident of 2021.

He swears I lowered it to 69 and then acted like I had no idea why he was waking up in a wool hoodie with icicles forming on his nose.

I say he crept it up to 73 when I wasn’t looking and then pretended the air conditioning was just “taking a break.”

We have security camera footage of both of us sneaking to the hallway like raccoons at 2am.

We are both grown adults. With Bibles. And therapy.

And yet...

He still holds a grudge about the time I deleted the Super Bowl recording to make room for Season 12 of When Calls the Heart.

And I still haven’t forgiven him for using my good scissors to open a bag of grout mix.

Y’all. Marriage is just two sinners trying not to press each other’s buttons while pretending we don’t still remember everything from 2007.

Which is why Ephesians 1 wrecks me.

God saw the entire highlight reel of my bad decisions—before I even got here.

Every mood swing. Every lie. Every selfish tantrum.

And still—He chose me.
Still—He called me blameless.
Still—He sent His Son to take the blame.

Before the first “I’m sorry,” He already said, “I forgive you.”

God doesn’t hold grudges.

He doesn’t bring up that thing you did that one time at that church potluck when you said you made the casserole but really it was Stouffer’s.

He doesn’t keep score.
He keeps choosing.

Maybe I need to do the same.

(Even if he did eat the last biscuit and call it “communion.”)

Oh, and Dear Lord, please help me forget that trip to Branson.