Today I’m sharing this space with fellow blogger, Katie Axelson. I love the way Katie sees Jesus in the every day. I think you’ll be inspired by her story too.
I was sitting at the kitchen counter pitting an avocado when the knife slipped. You know how this story ends. I felt the blade caress my hand and saw pieces of green and brown flying everywhere before me. I thought to myself, “Stitches seem to fit this hard season of life I’m in.” I was already thinking about who to call to drive me to the hospital.
When the moment passed and the chaos stopped, I paused to access the damage. Well, the pit was out. It’d bounced across my counter. There was a perfect slice running all the way through the avocado. I expected there to be a matching one running through the palm of my left hand. I knew it had to be bad.
Not a drop of blood.
Not even where a felt the blade hit my hand.
Not an extra red spot.
Not a single mark.
I took a deep breath.
I dodged a bullet—more literally, a knife—on that one.
There was no explanation, no reason that perfect slice didn’t go through my hand. I felt the knife! And there was nothing.
Somehow Jesus held that knife so it was sharp enough to remove the pit and slice the avocado but not hurt my hand.
I stopped right there to praise Him—not just because He saved me from an avocado incident but because of who He is.
He loves me—even in hard seasons.
He provides for me—even when I don’t know what I need.
He cares for me—even when I think I should be able to care for myself.
To be honest, I’m embarrassed to tell you about the avocado incident. Not just because it’s a silly knife mishap but because I’ve lived in Latin America. I’ve harvested avocados from trees in Ecuador but apparently can’t successfully get a pit out of the one I’m eating in the comfort of my own Minnesotan home.
I don’t have to be able to do it. I don’t have to be able to do it all, to do it right, to be the responsible one. I don’t have to work harder, volunteer more, or be better at my quiet times.
I am enough.
Just because of who I am.
The Bible tells me that a million times over, yet for some reason I just can’t seem to believe it.
Like inspecting my hand after the knife incident—I couldn’t seem to believe that my hand was unscratched. For hours, I kept checking for signs of damage or drops of blood. None. Not a single one.
For my whole life I’ve had a hard time believing that I am enough simply because God’s called me His.
It’s like flipping over the invitation God’s offered us looking for the catch.
You know, some caveat about doing more, trying harder, being more disciplined, or investing in more people.
My friends, there isn’t one. That’s not the Gospel. That’s the Older Brother Syndrome.
Luke 15, the Prodigal Son.
You know the story. The younger son asks for his inheritance, goes off and squanders it, then comes home and wants to be like a servant. The father says, “Heck no, techno. You’re my son. Not a servant.”
Kid says, “Cool!” (These are exact quotes. I checked the Greek.)
Big brother gets mad. While Dad’s throwing a party for little brother, big brother’s out on the porch having a pity party of his own.
Dad goes out to him and is like, “What’s the deal? You know I love you.”
If I were the big brother, I might say, “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”
Older Brother Syndrome.
Have you ever noticed something? Luke 15 is actually a series of three stories: a lost sheep, a lost coin, and a lost son. Or is it two lost sons? All the other stories end in rejoicing except the final one, the one of the older brother, the one I’m in.
My story is the only one that doesn’t end in rejoicing. I refuse to swallow my pride and admit that sometimes I act like I can earn grace. Sometimes I believe I’m not good enough. Sometimes I need help pitting an avocado.
And Jesus still meets me there on the kitchen counter with avocado smeared on my hands instead of blood. A sliced avocado instead of a sliced hand.
He is good enough and says the same is true of me.
Katie Axelson cannot pit an avocado, suffers from Older Brother Syndrome, and is still learning what it means to be loved by a good God. She knows she’s not alone in this journey and doesn’t want you to be either. She’d love for you to link arms with her and encounter the Father with her by joining her at KatieAxelson.com or on Instagram at @KatieAxelson.