My father said, “there’s more of those in the world than people.” Seated in the backseat of the car, maybe 10 to 12 years of age, I looked up to see the hind end of a horse being towed in a trailer.

Being rather naïve, I had no idea what he was talking about. But since getting my driver’s license and driving for 44 years, I now understand his inference.

Recently as I was waiting at a stop light to turn right, the person behind me honked his or her horn after the light turned green. I—and the person in front of me—had nowhere to go as the traffic was backed up.

What did this person expect us to do, magically fly over the traffic? He or she could clearly see that no cars were moving. Up until the horn honk I was very patient. Once I heard that blaring beep, however, I let go with my own slang description of a horse’s rear end.

Which leads me to the one conditioned behavior that I have the most difficulty shedding—the belief that I am unworthy of being loved.

How can God possibly love me when I mess up so frequently?

I think it is this erroneous belief that prevents many people from turning to and acknowledging God. They mistakenly believe that they have to quit their “bad” behavior before professing their faith. “As soon as I (fill in the blank), I’ll talk to God.” Essentially, they are saying, “I’m not good enough for God to love me.”

That’s the point, isn’t it?

None of us is “good enough,” yet “we are precious in His sight and He loves us” (Isaiah 43:4).

Abraham lied about Sarah being his wife to save his own hide. Jacob twice tricked his brother out of his birthright and his blessing. King David had an affair with a married woman and then had her husband killed. Rahab, the mother of Boaz and great-grandmother of King David, was a prostitute. Forbidden for Israelites, Samson married a Philistine woman.

Yet God used all these people in miraculous ways because they trusted Him in their “unlovable” state.

As soon as the profanity popped out of my mouth I said, “I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.” The native people of Hawaii call this Ho’ppono, a powerful act of redemption and remembrance.

In a book study at church this morning, we discussed the book of Deuteronomy and how Moses spent his remaining hours on earth reminding the Israelites repeatedly to remember . . .

“. . . that God was as personal as they themselves . . . that He spoke to them and listened to them . . . that He expressed His love for them . . . that He was merciful . . . that He longed for them not to forget Him when things were going well . . .” (The Bible Jesus Read: Why the Old Testament Matters by Phillip Yancey).

“I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.”

Let this be your prayer of remembrance.

I’m working on it.