Max Lucado said: the bank sent me an overdraft notice on the checking account of one of my daughters. I encouraged my college age girls to monitor their accounts. Even so, they sometimes overspent. What should I have done? Let the bank absorb it? They wouldn't. Send her an angry letter? Admonition might have helped her later, but it wouldn't satisfy the bank. Phone and tell her to make a deposit? Might as well tell fish to fly. I knew her liquidity. Zero. Transfer the money from my account to hers? Seemed to be the best option. After all, I could have replenished her account and paid the overdraft fee as well. Besides, that was my job. Don't get any ideas. If you're overdrawn, don't call me. My daughter can do something you can't do: she can call me Dad. And since she calls me Dad, I did what Dad's do. I covered my daughter's mistake. When I told her she was overdrawn, she said she was sorry. Still, she offered no deposit. She was broke. She had one option. "Dad, could you..." I interrupted her sentence. "Honey, I already have" I met her need before she knew she had one. ................. Long before you knew you needed grace, your Father did the same. He made the deposit, an ample deposit: Christ died for us while we were still sinners. Before you knew you needed a Savior, you had one. And when you ask him for mercy, He answers, "I've already given it, dear child. I've already given it."
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