//Oh, and if you don't believe in God,
how can you believe in love?
When we're all just matter that will one day scatter,
when peaceful the world lays us down//
Peaceful, the World Lays Me Down; Noah & the Whale
Lately I've been thinking about how perfect God's love for us is. We screw up, He still loves us. We screw Him over, He still loves us. We kick and scream and curse and cry and still He gave His only Son (the only one) to die in our place. My place. For me. The same ugly sinner that wakes up angry, curses His children, screams and pleads and cries constantly, and yells at Him when I don't get what I want? For me. I find that incomprehensible. For me. He died for me.
I haven't ever felt love like that here on earth and so I really have no idea, but lately, ever so lately, I've had this beautiful inkling of what it's like on the supernatural insane spiritual Godlove sense. Which I am convinced is infinitely better than anything on earth. It brings me to tears. "His mercies are new every morning"...every morning? Every morning I wake up and tear into whomever is closest and yet from the instant my eyes open He has already renewed his unending love for me. For me. He loves me when I forget to brush my teeth and when I run out of clean underwear and when my hair sticks straight up and when I act funky. When I'm sad or mad or cranky or seriously angry or frustrated or immensely happy or doing okay or doing not so okay. His love is not dependent upon me or anything I may do.
His love is unconditional. It's hard to understand that, living in a world that is full of conditions. you can go out tonight--if you clean your room. You can live in that new apartment--if you pay the rent. You can be my friend--if you agree with me.
Yet all He asks for me to do is just let Him love me. All I have to do is let Him. Accept His love.
I started wearing my key again. Once upon a time, when I was about twelve, maybe thirteen, I found a really simple but cool old key and put it on a really simple but cool old chain and wore it, calling it the key to my heart. I would laugh to myself and wish I had a boyfriend (oh, how naiive I was), and say I'd give it to the boy that won me (why would I ever have wanted a boy to win me? I only need one and I don't need him till he's a man). Now suddenly I find myself wearing it again, because it is still the key to my heart but it belongs only to Him. Only.
Ready me, my Beloved. Make me without spot or wrinkle, ready to be your bride.
how can you believe in love?
When we're all just matter that will one day scatter,
when peaceful the world lays us down//
Peaceful, the World Lays Me Down; Noah & the Whale
Lately I've been thinking about how perfect God's love for us is. We screw up, He still loves us. We screw Him over, He still loves us. We kick and scream and curse and cry and still He gave His only Son (the only one) to die in our place. My place. For me. The same ugly sinner that wakes up angry, curses His children, screams and pleads and cries constantly, and yells at Him when I don't get what I want? For me. I find that incomprehensible. For me. He died for me.
I haven't ever felt love like that here on earth and so I really have no idea, but lately, ever so lately, I've had this beautiful inkling of what it's like on the supernatural insane spiritual Godlove sense. Which I am convinced is infinitely better than anything on earth. It brings me to tears. "His mercies are new every morning"...every morning? Every morning I wake up and tear into whomever is closest and yet from the instant my eyes open He has already renewed his unending love for me. For me. He loves me when I forget to brush my teeth and when I run out of clean underwear and when my hair sticks straight up and when I act funky. When I'm sad or mad or cranky or seriously angry or frustrated or immensely happy or doing okay or doing not so okay. His love is not dependent upon me or anything I may do.
His love is unconditional. It's hard to understand that, living in a world that is full of conditions. you can go out tonight--if you clean your room. You can live in that new apartment--if you pay the rent. You can be my friend--if you agree with me.
Yet all He asks for me to do is just let Him love me. All I have to do is let Him. Accept His love.
I started wearing my key again. Once upon a time, when I was about twelve, maybe thirteen, I found a really simple but cool old key and put it on a really simple but cool old chain and wore it, calling it the key to my heart. I would laugh to myself and wish I had a boyfriend (oh, how naiive I was), and say I'd give it to the boy that won me (why would I ever have wanted a boy to win me? I only need one and I don't need him till he's a man). Now suddenly I find myself wearing it again, because it is still the key to my heart but it belongs only to Him. Only.
Ready me, my Beloved. Make me without spot or wrinkle, ready to be your bride.
No comments:
Post a Comment