“But what can I do instead?”
I’d been talking to Tim about his grandmother’s words to him. She’s started every year with the same bit of counsel.
Time smiled. “I’d ask her the same thing. ‘But what should I do instead?’ And she’d say, ‘learn God’s law.’ She’d see the look on my face.”
I didn’t think it was that obvious.
Tim refilled my coffee. A medium bold doesn’t last very long.
“And then she’d say, ‘I know. You think about the people who learn it at the expense of others. To build themselves up, to tear others down. I know those people.’ And she’d always stop for a minute.”
Tim looked at me. “I think that my grandmother had gotten a lot of trouble from the people who know the law and abuse it. With a daughter who had married outside the faith, and then losing her own husband and being at the mercy of the system, she knew how legalistic the system could be.”
Lystra Tea Company was quiet for a bit. Tim thinking about his grandmother, me thinking about Tim and his story, and legalism and my story.
Tim shook his head, clearing something. “But then she’d recover herself. ‘Delight,’ she said. ‘Not just learn the law, delight in it. Think about it all the time. Assume that God loves you at least as much as I do. And as much as you like these conversation we have, Timothy, the ones we have while we’re helping the other widows, like God tells us. You and I delight in the time together, exploring how to help. We’re learning to delight in God’s words when we are living out the love that’s in them.’”