I grew up in the church. I was surrounded by family and friends who accepted Him, who loved Him, and who believed in His love for them.
I didn't get it.
I believed in Him, loved Him, and believed in His love for me...with conditions (be nice, read your bible enough, pray enough, etc.). I think so human. I forget that His ways aren't like mine. He doesn't think like I do. He is Jesus.
After so many years of self-condemnation; condemnation that I let myself believe was from Him, I finally get it. Well, I at least get part of the puzzle. (and for the many parts that I still struggle to understand, I trust Him to reveal them to me when, and if, it is necessary...until then, I simply trust Him.)
Jesus died for me. His blood covers me.
I am righteous because of the blood of Jesus.
I am imperfect, impatient, and sometimes I wallow in the muck.
And then I stand up. I remember who I am. I shut up the condemnation and I talk to God and love Jesus for his covering. I fall in love with Him more every single day. I desire a closer relationship with Him and not because I have to, but because of the great gift of my rightousness.
I believe in Him, love Him, and believe in His love for me. Simple.