Today I am keenly aware, as my day to begin Medicare approaches, that I have not lived up to my imaginary potential, but God has lived up to his real potential. I look back at things I did and did not do, at zeal I did not maintain, and I marvel at the goodness of God. I don’t think I have entered a room in the last almost 44 years that God did not enter first. Jesus promised a river of life from deep in my belly, and it has been there. “The God of angel armies” has truly gone before and been my rear guard. “When we are faithless, he remains faithful.” I didn’t think, looking forward from the 1980s, that God liked me enough to remain faithful when I was faithless, but looking back from 2026, I’m in awe, and I think I finally believe God likes me. I attribute some of that belief to learning to use the word “favor” rather than “grace” when reading Ephesians 2:8-10, Romans 6:14, Titus 2:11-12, and especially in Hebrews 4:16. Most of that belief, however, comes from long experience of God intervening in my life, rewarding my faithfulness, and hanging around to keep me safe during my unfaithfulness.

I had great parents who helped me believe that I could be liked despite sometimes having to be tolerated. My brothers and I fought like dogs and cats, and I ignored my sister way too much, but we’re a tight-knit bunch. Of course, Lorie Pavao has somehow been thrilled with me for 38 years, which is crazy and inexplicable apart from the power of God.

This gazing at my life is not prompted by thoughts that this life is over. Instead, today I got to pass on some of the things I’ve learned and experienced deeply and emotionally to people younger than me. It put me in awe of the _checed_ of God, his mercy/lovingkindness/covenant faithfulness.

To paraphrase “Covenant Woman” by Janny Grein, I’m a lifelong covenant Christian. I’ve lived with my feet planted deep in his good, good Word, standing on the promises I have heard (signed, sealed, delivered by the blood of the Lamb). Wow … it’s been amazing. I’m hoping for 20 more years to give what I’ve gotten. It’s a blip in eternity, but that’s a long time for an earth-bound human to pass on what God has given.

My mammal brain remembers the Scripture I read in my younger years amazingly well, but the Scripture I read yesterday rather poorly. The kindness of God, though, is etched in large print in my spirit and etched in deep emotion in my deep, reptilian brain.

When I am on my deathbed, play me a song that include Isaiah 61’s …

“to provide for those who mourn in Zion,
to give to them a garland for ashes,
the oil of joy for mourning,
the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness,
that they may be called trees of righteousness,
the planting of Yahweh,
that he may be glorified.
They will rebuild the old ruins.
They will raise up the former devastated places.
They will repair the ruined cities
that have been devastated for many generations.”

… and I will leap and dance again because those words will touch something far deeper than my understanding.