valentine's day type blushing
I write this with a bit of fire in my belly, and I'm glad to have this fuel for my fingers; Lord knows if my heart isn't about to scream it, it won't get written, which explains the sometimes long gaps between posts. This has been stirring for some time and today in the shower was when it all culminated in my heart, so amidst the busyness of today I've mumbled phrases to myself in hopes of avoiding the trite phrases that easily enter into Valentine's Day posts like these.
Valentine's Day is swiftly approaching more quickly than we'd all care to admit, and thus my heart has been mulling over the concept of love (as well as the concept of chocolate, but I'm trying to remain single-minded. But seriously, you need to go buy the Ferrero Rocher variety pack right now if you think Valentine's Day could be hard for you in any way. But I digress). I wrote about this topic (love, not chocolate. Stay with me people) a few years ago in the middle of a heartbreak and to be honest I'm pretty proud of it; considering the emotional turmoil/hormones I was enduring at the time, I'm actually surprised that anything redeemable or helpful or even coherent was able to come from those days. Hallelujah, I guess. That post still speaks to me, and maybe it will for you, as well.
However, that was about the act and art of loving: the selfless determination, mucky and messy, grit-in-your-teeth, dirt-in-your-fingernails, not-necessarily-reciprocated love that can apparently only be described by yours truly with hyphenated phrases and metaphors. This is a glorious calling of suffering love, but few rarely experience this because they are hindered by the gnawing doubt that stifles their growth, stunts their self-consciousness, inhibits their spreading of the Gospel:
We all just feel unloved.
Don't you? Why does the phrase "God loves me" mostly do nothing for us? We toss the phrase out faster than Dove chocolate wrappers. His love is part of the basis of our joy, the reason God sent salvation, the small taste now of the feast in the future. And we so often disregard it more so than the trite and cheeky phrases meant to inspire us. What? Though I'm married to a wonderful man now, ladies, I remember each Valentine's Day, 22 of them to be exact, where I longed for a confession of undying love, I longed to be whisked away, preferably by Zac Efron (but a Christian version, I think) and found myself agitated, offended, and resorting to chocolate when well-meaning friends and moms would offer, "Jesus loves you, and that's enough."
Except it wasn't enough for me. And sometimes, it still isn't.
Why wasn't it? Why isn't it?
When Jon and I started dating, what threw me over the moon was not just that Jon liked me. Anyone could have liked me. And others did. For instance, there was a two month period in my life where twice a week I would receive a call from a local prison of a man trying to reach me. A major life re-evaluation ensued, and should surprise none of my faithful readers. I never accepted the call though, figuring it was a mistake and that going to school where white people call "the hood" was already too much, and I didn't want to be any more associated with gang circles than I already was.
There were others too, who were far less illegal. Good, nice, kind boys who took me on dates and cooked for me and pumped my gas for me and took me to the zoo. They'd make me laugh and hadn't even visited prison, much less sentenced there; they'd call me and showed up for dates dressed smartly and they loved Jesus, and I knew they liked me. Some boys are so obvious. I just wasn't that, well, astounded. Some said my standards were too high, and maybe they were.
But with Jon, this was a completely different world. Having known him for about a year, I already adored the boy not just because his run-ins with the law had been kept to a minimum, which was sadly a notch higher than what I would call my ultimate low, but because for a whole year I watched (/creeped on) his hilarity, his calmness, his passion, his kindness, intelligence, genuineness, and that he knew how to use a Crock Pot. By the time he told me he loved me on my 23rd Valentine's Day, I adored him. Why was it Jon that made me weak at the knees, cheekily smiling at strangers and twirling in my room at his texts, but this mystery man from prison had me checking the back seat of my car before I entered and deciding which actress would play me when the story of my life and brutal murder would be turned into a Lifetime movie? Why did I deny boys who I could really only describe as "nice"? They probably knew how to use a Crock Pot, too. Friends, the fluttering of our hearts and the red-hot, unbridled excitement flushing our cheeks when someone tells us they love us is strictly dependent upon the quality of the person saying, "I love you." Don't we all have this internal, insatiable desire to be loved by someone downright astounding, and not just nice, not just someone who can use a kitchen appliance?
If someone came up to you right now and said, "he loves you!", what would your response be?
Who???? right? Who loves me? Do I know him? Is he a good guy? What is he like?
We would qualify the person loving us, wouldn't we? We would be disturbed if it were a prisoner or a married man cheating on his wife. We would be disinterested if he were a liar or if he was generally rude. We have this built-in desire to not just be loved, but to be loved by someone great. Someone who makes us feel unworthy. Someone who astounds us.
Friends, I think this is why our Savior and Lord isn't enough for us this Valentine's Day--we simply aren't astounded by the Jesus in "Jesus loves you". We haven't asked the question, "who is Jesus?". We leave church with our to-do lists and just keep telling ourselves "He loves me" and it doesn't thrill us to the bone because we simply don't know who He is. We read His Word looking for ourselves instead of looking for Him. We have yet to simply look at Him. We have yet to read His Word simply to find out His character, His personality, His unbridled kindness.
And what makes Jesus better than any man who could show up at your door step, smartly dressed, bearing roses and chocolate and a Crock Pot dinner?
I'll spend the rest of my life finding out just how imperfect Jon is. Yes, he astounded me on my 23rd Valentine's Day. Yes, I still think he's amazing. But throughout the rest of our life, I have the honor and responsibility of loving him despite the imperfections that are inevitably revealed each day we walk this hard ground called earth together.
But with our Lord? We can spend the rest of our lives finding out just how perfect He is. Just how reliable, how continually amazing, how endlessly enchanting, enigmatically beautiful and unendingly kind He is. He will continue to astound us, if we let Him. Because, fun fact, He planted that desire to be eternally astounded.
In the months following my aforementioned heartbreak a few years back, Jesus began dumping on me who He was, avalanche style. Everywhere I went, I was looking for Him, finding out who He was, understanding His character, His sense of humor, the impeccable way He writes stories better than any classic writer. I couldn't stop. He was too much. And when I circled back to the phrase, Jesus loves me, I was beginning to know the answer to, who is Jesus? and I actually wrote in my journal, "You've captured my heart, stunned and blushing." Blushing? Yes, blushing. Valentine's Day type blushing. It's as if knowing Him is enough, but being loved by Him? Game over, friends. That's it, there's nothing else we need. He is it, like, He is the One, He is absolutely astounding and He invites us to know who He is and so He sent His Son to die so we could know Him because He knows that's what we need.
If He isn't enough for you this Valentine's Day, will you make a commitment to find out who He is? Not what He's telling you to do, not even what He did for you, but just find out who He is. Begin to answer the question, who is this Jesus who loves me? As if it's a mysterious man you hardly know. Search, seek, read, write, wait for Him. He will astound you, He will knock you to the ground in stunned awe and you will forget about Him loving you because you will be so overtaken by His glory.
Happy Valentine's Day, friends. There is One out there who is wildly, thrillingly, unendingly perfect and may you just be astounded by Him.
Valentine's Day is swiftly approaching more quickly than we'd all care to admit, and thus my heart has been mulling over the concept of love (as well as the concept of chocolate, but I'm trying to remain single-minded. But seriously, you need to go buy the Ferrero Rocher variety pack right now if you think Valentine's Day could be hard for you in any way. But I digress). I wrote about this topic (love, not chocolate. Stay with me people) a few years ago in the middle of a heartbreak and to be honest I'm pretty proud of it; considering the emotional turmoil/hormones I was enduring at the time, I'm actually surprised that anything redeemable or helpful or even coherent was able to come from those days. Hallelujah, I guess. That post still speaks to me, and maybe it will for you, as well.
However, that was about the act and art of loving: the selfless determination, mucky and messy, grit-in-your-teeth, dirt-in-your-fingernails, not-necessarily-reciprocated love that can apparently only be described by yours truly with hyphenated phrases and metaphors. This is a glorious calling of suffering love, but few rarely experience this because they are hindered by the gnawing doubt that stifles their growth, stunts their self-consciousness, inhibits their spreading of the Gospel:
We all just feel unloved.
Don't you? Why does the phrase "God loves me" mostly do nothing for us? We toss the phrase out faster than Dove chocolate wrappers. His love is part of the basis of our joy, the reason God sent salvation, the small taste now of the feast in the future. And we so often disregard it more so than the trite and cheeky phrases meant to inspire us. What? Though I'm married to a wonderful man now, ladies, I remember each Valentine's Day, 22 of them to be exact, where I longed for a confession of undying love, I longed to be whisked away, preferably by Zac Efron (but a Christian version, I think) and found myself agitated, offended, and resorting to chocolate when well-meaning friends and moms would offer, "Jesus loves you, and that's enough."
Except it wasn't enough for me. And sometimes, it still isn't.
Why wasn't it? Why isn't it?
When Jon and I started dating, what threw me over the moon was not just that Jon liked me. Anyone could have liked me. And others did. For instance, there was a two month period in my life where twice a week I would receive a call from a local prison of a man trying to reach me. A major life re-evaluation ensued, and should surprise none of my faithful readers. I never accepted the call though, figuring it was a mistake and that going to school where white people call "the hood" was already too much, and I didn't want to be any more associated with gang circles than I already was.
There were others too, who were far less illegal. Good, nice, kind boys who took me on dates and cooked for me and pumped my gas for me and took me to the zoo. They'd make me laugh and hadn't even visited prison, much less sentenced there; they'd call me and showed up for dates dressed smartly and they loved Jesus, and I knew they liked me. Some boys are so obvious. I just wasn't that, well, astounded. Some said my standards were too high, and maybe they were.
But with Jon, this was a completely different world. Having known him for about a year, I already adored the boy not just because his run-ins with the law had been kept to a minimum, which was sadly a notch higher than what I would call my ultimate low, but because for a whole year I watched (/creeped on) his hilarity, his calmness, his passion, his kindness, intelligence, genuineness, and that he knew how to use a Crock Pot. By the time he told me he loved me on my 23rd Valentine's Day, I adored him. Why was it Jon that made me weak at the knees, cheekily smiling at strangers and twirling in my room at his texts, but this mystery man from prison had me checking the back seat of my car before I entered and deciding which actress would play me when the story of my life and brutal murder would be turned into a Lifetime movie? Why did I deny boys who I could really only describe as "nice"? They probably knew how to use a Crock Pot, too. Friends, the fluttering of our hearts and the red-hot, unbridled excitement flushing our cheeks when someone tells us they love us is strictly dependent upon the quality of the person saying, "I love you." Don't we all have this internal, insatiable desire to be loved by someone downright astounding, and not just nice, not just someone who can use a kitchen appliance?
If someone came up to you right now and said, "he loves you!", what would your response be?
Who???? right? Who loves me? Do I know him? Is he a good guy? What is he like?
We would qualify the person loving us, wouldn't we? We would be disturbed if it were a prisoner or a married man cheating on his wife. We would be disinterested if he were a liar or if he was generally rude. We have this built-in desire to not just be loved, but to be loved by someone great. Someone who makes us feel unworthy. Someone who astounds us.
Friends, I think this is why our Savior and Lord isn't enough for us this Valentine's Day--we simply aren't astounded by the Jesus in "Jesus loves you". We haven't asked the question, "who is Jesus?". We leave church with our to-do lists and just keep telling ourselves "He loves me" and it doesn't thrill us to the bone because we simply don't know who He is. We read His Word looking for ourselves instead of looking for Him. We have yet to simply look at Him. We have yet to read His Word simply to find out His character, His personality, His unbridled kindness.
And what makes Jesus better than any man who could show up at your door step, smartly dressed, bearing roses and chocolate and a Crock Pot dinner?
I'll spend the rest of my life finding out just how imperfect Jon is. Yes, he astounded me on my 23rd Valentine's Day. Yes, I still think he's amazing. But throughout the rest of our life, I have the honor and responsibility of loving him despite the imperfections that are inevitably revealed each day we walk this hard ground called earth together.
But with our Lord? We can spend the rest of our lives finding out just how perfect He is. Just how reliable, how continually amazing, how endlessly enchanting, enigmatically beautiful and unendingly kind He is. He will continue to astound us, if we let Him. Because, fun fact, He planted that desire to be eternally astounded.
In the months following my aforementioned heartbreak a few years back, Jesus began dumping on me who He was, avalanche style. Everywhere I went, I was looking for Him, finding out who He was, understanding His character, His sense of humor, the impeccable way He writes stories better than any classic writer. I couldn't stop. He was too much. And when I circled back to the phrase, Jesus loves me, I was beginning to know the answer to, who is Jesus? and I actually wrote in my journal, "You've captured my heart, stunned and blushing." Blushing? Yes, blushing. Valentine's Day type blushing. It's as if knowing Him is enough, but being loved by Him? Game over, friends. That's it, there's nothing else we need. He is it, like, He is the One, He is absolutely astounding and He invites us to know who He is and so He sent His Son to die so we could know Him because He knows that's what we need.
If He isn't enough for you this Valentine's Day, will you make a commitment to find out who He is? Not what He's telling you to do, not even what He did for you, but just find out who He is. Begin to answer the question, who is this Jesus who loves me? As if it's a mysterious man you hardly know. Search, seek, read, write, wait for Him. He will astound you, He will knock you to the ground in stunned awe and you will forget about Him loving you because you will be so overtaken by His glory.
Happy Valentine's Day, friends. There is One out there who is wildly, thrillingly, unendingly perfect and may you just be astounded by Him.
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