Rolling on like a River

“But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-falling stream!”

~ Amos 5:24

 

In the words of Francis Chan, one of my favorite Christian authors and speakers, “We all know there’s a problem.” While the world we live in is full of beauty, it’s also full of brokenness. While we try to build bridges of peace and understanding, too many of our interactions gape with selfishness and triviality. While we have countless opportunities to fill ourselves with the joy we crave, many of us go to bed each night feeling empty. So . . . there’s definitely a problem, and we all claim to know its source. Some blame it on “the inherent immorality of society,” others on “the corrupt nature of our politics,” and others on “anyone whose views differ from my own.” I tend to disagree with all of these theories, at least to an extent. Although I will admit that immorality and corruption are prevalent issues, I look at them in a slightly different light; perhaps it’s not about the bad things that we are doing, and more about the good things that we’re not doing. Our lands are dry, and our people are thirsting for more. So is cleaning up our language and changing our political affiliation really going to bring abundance back to our land? Call me crazy, but I’m thinking not.

 

In its most authentic form, faith is not something that compels us to follow a set of intricately developed rules. It’s something that compels us to take action against injustice and oppression. We are saved by faith alone, but James 2:14-17 reminds us of an important principle that we often forget, or at least conveniently overlook: “What good is it, dear brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but it doesn’t show by your actions? Can that kind of faith save anyone? Suppose you see a brother or sister who has no food or clothing, and you say ‘Good-bye and have a good day; stay warm and eat well’- but then you don’t give that person any food or clothing. What good does that do? You see, faith by itself isn’t enough. Unless it produces good deeds, it is dead and useless.” Dead and useless, like a riverbed with no water, a painful reminder of an endless drought.

 

I’ll be the first to admit that my actions, or lack thereof, contribute to society’s problems. At times, I am the problem. I’m the problem when I act like my own issues are so much more important than the ones of those around me. I’m the problem when I turn a blind eye to the homeless man on the street. I’m the problem when I hoard by wealth for myself rather than sharing it with those in need. I’m the problem when I allow my brothers and sisters in Christ to make a hateful comment about a person or a generalization about a group of people. I’m the problem when I let my fear inhibit me from taking action, even when I am perfectly capable of doing so. I need to stop. I need to let a love for those in need to rain down on me, washing away the soil of self-centeredness that is crusted on my heart. Because if we claim to be Christians and our lives don’t show it, then we really need to reconsider whether or not we can actually call ourselves followers of Christ.

 

It’s relatively easy to follow rules. It’s even easier to dedicate our lives to making sure everyone else’s lives meet our expectations of “moral living.” It’s much more difficult to abandon our selfish ambitions and live in such a way that displays the truth that the son of God poured out his life for us, as undeserving as we are, and now desires for us to pour out our lives for others, no matter how undeserving they might seem. Only then will justice roll on like a river, and righteousness like a never-falling stream. Only then will fresh waters return to our parched and weary land, even if it only happens one drop at a time. 

The Unnamed Sinner

This poem is based on one of my favorite passages of scripture, where an unnamed woman with a notoriously rugged past falls helplessly at Christ's feet in search of mercy. While we often allow societal standards to define us, remember that you are a precious and valuable human being. Like the woman in this poem, I hope that you will come to a place of breathless surrender that enables you to see your true identity.

 

The Unnamed Sinner

 

 

"A woman in that town who lived a sinful life learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee's house, so she came to him with a jar of alabaster perfume. As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them, and poured perfume on them . . ." (Luke 7:37-38)

 

 

Breathless, I run, as if I were the

Cutting gale that stings my unnamed face

Like the morbid bite of a serpent

Slithering slyly up my leg

To reopen old wounds.

 

 

Breathless, I fight

To force feeling into my heavy limbs

As they traverse mounds of mired clay

Baked by the unrelenting swelter of the sun

That has etched deep lines in the crevices of my trembling bronze hands,

Clutching close a weighted jar – gushing with the aroma of precious perfume,

Gushing with the shine of a thousand pieces of silver,

And gushing with the blackness of sins.

 

My sins.

 

Breathless, I stop numb,

At the unapproachable threshold between consummation

And the depravity that adorns me like exquisite jewelry.

The low murmur of futile chatter is silenced by deafening stares.

Their opaque glares scream "go,"

But his luminescent gaze whispers

"Come."

 

Breathless, I crumble

In awestruck sorrow to his calloused feet,

And I ponder the forbidden lands where mine have traveled,

Only to be tainted with the dust of insidious ecstasy.

His leathery skin becomes a canvas

For the smear of hot tears formed by swollen sobs,

And for the smudge of cracked lips leaving impure kisses,

Mopped away by the brush of knotted hair,

As grimy fingertips caress the sweet oil deep into his pores,

And deeper still,

Until the earsplitting clamor of hostile ridicule

Becomes the distant whisper of leaves rustling in the soft wind.

 

"For he who is forgiven of little loves little."

 

"Moisha," Savior.

The word rolls of my parched lips

Like a pearl of redeeming crimson blood,

Or a bead of cleansing rain

That sinks far into the sea,

But is not lost in its vastness.

Breathless, I fade into his pure embrace,

Where I am but a speck,

And yet somehow I am the whole world.

 

"Your faith has saved you; go in peace."

 

My name is "forgiven."

My name is "loved."

 

You are forgiven, and you are loved- and that's the only label you'll ever need.

 

 





 

 



Tearing Down the Walls

 Prejudice. Does society know of a more impenetrable wall, of one with a deeper foundation? Since the inception of time, humans have shamelessly based their acceptance of others off of an array of external factors. Appearance, popular status, belief, and behavior are just a few of our favorites. At first glance, the barriers we build around ourselves and our neatly crafted social groups seem to shield us from the discomfort and apprehension that what lies beyond these barriers may bring. But then . . . we’re trapped in a world where everyone looks, thinks, and acts as we do. The familiar sights we once cherished become vile portraits of monotony. Deep down, we thirst for an escape, but our all-consuming animosities against the outside world seal even the smallest of cracks in the wall that imprisons us. 



           

           Astonishingly, (or maybe not so astonishingly) Christians have a reputation for their alienation, and it often comes off as unyielding hate. I think most of us have good intentions. (At least, I hope most of us have good intentions.) We want to “Surround ourselves with Godly influences” or “Abstain from worldly practices.” And that’s wonderful. You should have a spiritual support system, and there are probably certain things that you should avoid. But personally, I think there comes a point when these “good intentions” take a backseat to our unjustified inhibitions. These inhibitions dictate the way we think, and the way we act. They cause us to look at people for “what” they are instead of who they are, and more importantly- the one who created them. They cause our churches to become hostile country clubs- the utter opposite of what they were intended to be. (But hey, the guy who prays the most gets the best seat!) They hinder us from our mission to be light in the darkness- because somehow, we have become enveloped in the darkness itself. Often, however, we’re far too blind to see it.

            As much as we like to believe that God shares our personal prejudices, The Bible clearly illustrates that He does not. John 4 tells the story of Jesus and a Samaritan woman- two people who were never supposed to cross paths.

            But they did. Quite intentionally, I might add.

            The Samaritan woman journeyed out into the intense heat of the day to gather water from the village well. Although water-gathering was considered a highly social activity, this weary woman was alone- most likely because of her less-than-ideal status as a woman who had been married five times and was living with a man who wasn’t her husband. As she drew from the well, Jesus embraced this outcast as someone He loved dearly. He looked past social rituals and offered her the promise of living water- of abundant life like a bubbling spring. Almost instantly, she abandoned her task in sheer elation and rushed back to her village to share with others the hope she had discovered. An act of bold compassion brought out the life stored within her; it liberated multitudes from the bondage of discrimination and into the freedom of eternal acceptance.  (Remarkably, Jesus did not become an adulterous woman in the process.)

            God’s disapproval of unwarranted human prejudices goes back even further than this profound narrative. Early in the Old Testament, we find the story of the Battle of Jericho. I know what all of you bible scholars out there are thinking: “Wait! That was when the Israelites marched around six times and then God destroyed the city. What does that have to do with prejudice?” Well, your second-grade Sunday school teacher may have left out the fact that Joshua and his spies, on whom the entire mission rested, were sheltered in the house of Rahab . . . a prostitute. What if Joshua and his men had looked only at her inequity, and not at her potential? What if they hadn’t trusted that God was going to use her for His purposes? The walls of Jericho may still be standing.

            And Rahab may have never become a part of the genealogy of Jesus, the one who came to tear down all walls that persist in dividing us.

            We say Jesus has shattered the barriers of our hearts. But do we live as if He has? Do we follow the warning words of James, who asserts that appearances are more than falliable: “Suppose someone comes into your meeting dressed in fancy clothes and expensive jewelry, and another comes in who is poor and dressed in dirty clothes. If you give special attention and a good seat to the rich person, but say to the poor, “You can sit over there, or on the floor,”- well, doesn’t this show that your discrimination is based on evil motives? Hasn’t God chosen the poor of this world to be rich in faith? Aren’t they the ones who inherit the kingdom promised to those who love him? But you dishonor the poor! Isn’t it the rich who drag you into courts and oppress you?” (James 2:2-6) Or do our judgmental glances and haughty attitudes defile the name of God, who loved each and every one of us enough to forgive a debt that we could never repay? James is also adamant that we must “Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who is not merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment” (James 2:12-13).

            You never know what God is doing in the life of another person- until you make an earnest effort to find out. So go against the grain and embrace people on the fringes of society. Step out of your comfort zone, out of your own little world. Learn to see people with your heart, and not your eyes. The incredible just might happen. You might lead someone to a wellspring of living water. Or just like in The Battle of Jericho, you may find your strength in the most unexpected of places. And the walls just might come crumbling down.

 



           

           

One Thing Remains

“Whatever is good and perfect comes down from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens. He never changes or casts a shifting shadow.”

~ James 1:17

 

There are quite few things in life that I’m just absolutely terrible at. Take athletics, for instance. I can barely walk in a straight line, much less run, handle a ball, and fight off my competitors all at the same time. And art. I mean, I guess I could splatter some paint on a canvas and someone would call it art, even though that’s still pushing it a little. But of all the things in this world that I’m not so great at, I’m the worst at change. It makes my head ache and my skin crawl. I hold so many things close to my heart, and I hate letting go of them. Conveniently enough, I’m approaching that time of year where a lot of things start changing. New school year. New classes. New teachers. New friends. New joys. New hearbreaks. And I don’t quite know how to prepare myself for it all. Sometimes I wish time would just freeze and allow me to soak up all of the precious things that today has to offer. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. Like a cruel thief, time has a way of stealing everything we cling to. All we are left with is tomorrow, in all of its daunting uncertainty and swelling excitement.

                                                                 

 

            I could spend this post talking about how we should respond to change in all of its forms. I could even write out a nice, neat, five-step formula for you. But like I said earlier, I’m not very good at change, so I’m probably not the best person to ask. (I’m also not too great with formulas, so it could actually just be a recipe for disaster.) All I can really say is that in the face of change, some things are constant. The appearance of the sky always changes, but it’s still the same sky. So maybe instead of focusing on the clouds, we should focus on the persistence of the heavens themselves. Instead of focusing on what I can say to inspire you in times of rapid adjustment or sudden destruction, maybe I should focus on what can never be destroyed, no matter what the skies may contain.

 

            I don’t know who’s reading my blog at any given moment. This particular post is specifically dedicated to my friends leaving for college in the coming days, but if given the opportunity to speak to the entire world, these next few words would be the ones to pass my lips. I desperately pray that my actions have always been a testament to them because I know that actions are far more powerful than words alone. But if you ever get anything out of this blog, or out of having known me personally, please, make it this: No matter how small you may feel in such a big world, you are not worthless. You are beautiful, and you are loved. I know what its like to doubt, to hurt, and to struggle, but I believe in a God who never once doubted His love for me- or you. He loves you so much it hurts. Your name is etched in the wounds on His hands and in His sides. Sometimes, Christians do a crappy job at communicating this message, and I’m so sorry for that. It’s because we’re people, and people can be pretty crappy. (I know I can be pretty crappy.) I say this all the time, but I don’t know everything, as much as I wish I did. I do know that my relationship with God has transformed me and continues to do so, even on the days when my failures are beyond words. Because God doesn’t look at us and see our failures. He sees Himself: “Therefore, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us. Because of our faith, Christ has brought us into this place of undeserved privilege where we now stand, and we confidently and joyfully look forward to sharing God’s glory” (Romans 5:1-2). No matter what chapter of life you’re in, God is writing a story for you that is filled with grace, beauty, and redemption. When everything around you crumbles, He will lift you in His tender hands and take you far above the ruins.

 

            You were created for rich and abundant life, and no one can take that away from you. Pursue that authentic abundance with everything you have. Take risks, and follow your dreams and passions; they’re there for a reason. Most of all, ask God to increase your capacity to love others selflessly. And don’t just love when it’s easy. Love when it costs you. Because if you only love those who love you in return, what reward do you have? Lay down your life for your enemies. Allow your compassion to triumph over your fears. Let your life overflow in indulgent, unconditional love. I strongly believe that the love you put into the world will come back to you in the end. And even though I quote this verse all the time, I strongly believe that true love, which comes from God, will be the light that allows us to behold the magnificent image of wholeness that our hearts cry out for: “Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God knows me completely. Three things will last forever- hope, faith, and love- but the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:12-13).

 

            We live in a world of constant change, but when we cling to the hope that some things are eternal, we race towards tomorrow with gleaming eyes. We can believe that by the strength of that which does not fade away, all of the tears will be wiped from our eyes, sorrow and pain will be no more, death will be wiped away, and all things will be made new. We are beautiful, and we are loved- not just for this divine day in the future, but for all the days of our lives. And so we do not have to run from or fear change as we are covered by the greatest thing that remains- a love that never changes.

* I love music, and I feel like this song says it all much better than I ever could.

                                                                                       

 

A Leap of Faith, a Leap of Love

* Not going to lie . . . this is actually just my ninth grade Kite Runner paper. It's kind of on the long side . . . but I like it, and I hope you do too! (:

“Who believes what we have heard and seen? Who would have thought God’s saving power would look like this?” (Isaiah 53:1)

            I see the rusted nails first. Then, the guilty hands driving them into the palms of innocence, the palms of steadfast devotion to the human race. The hands are trembling, and drip a cold, malevolent sweat. They grasp the wounded skin underneath them and move with an unrelenting sharpness. They raise the hammer and in a matter of seconds, it batters the head of the nail. The man trapped underneath stifles what is certain to be a bloodcurdling scream. I trace the hand stained with the innocent man’s blood and see a soldier of sin with empty eyes and a plagued soul. Those hands are my hands; I am that soldier. The outpouring of love trickles down my flesh. I am sickened, and haunted, by a grace that I cannot comprehend. This is the Christ, the lamb who was sent for slaughter. The love that He possessed for all of mankind is one acquired by few, such as the fictitious Hassan in Khaled Hosseini’s The Kite Runner. However, I am convicted that it is a vital tool in living a life that is fulfilling to oneself as well as to others. As is evident in Hosseini’s novel, religious history, and the course of humanity, this kind of love often lends itself to fortitude, scorn, and sacrifice.

            "The Servant grew up before God- a scrawny seedling, a scrubby plant in a parched field. There was nothing attractive about him, nothing to cause us to take a second look.    He was looked down on and passed over, a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.             One look at him and people turned away. We look down on him, thought he was scum . . ."  (Isaiah 53:2-3)

            In  Hosseini’s The Kite Runner, readers are given a clear picture of the treatment faced by Hassan and other Afghani Hazaras. It goes without saying that the minority group is subject to constant degradation and inferiority. At the start of the novel, Hassan is a young, harelipped, Hazara boy who is by no means a friend of society. Due to prejudices against those of his race, religion, and class, Hassan is bound to a world of injustice and lowliness. However, Hassan proves to be a true hero for many characters in the novel when it truly matters.

In Jesus’ time, carpenters and other manual labors were at the much lower end of the social spectrum. On annount of heavy taxes by Roman officials as well as tithes required by Jewish law, he was in a poor place financially and within society. Jews in general were also looked down upon seeing as how they seemed to ‘interfere’ with the overall advancement of the Roman Empire. Despite this grim circumstance, Jesus taught that persons should learn to be content with what they were given and live a reputable lifestyle even in the face of injustice. His social class did not define him, rather he used it as an opportunity to display his grace to those of all walks of life. Similarly, Hassan knows of his place in his community, but that does not hinder him from contributing to it, although it is done on a very humble and personal level. I find the ability to radiate a positive light into a community that lashes constant malevolence upon one’s class or circumstance to be truly admirable. A willingness to put aside hindrances for the greater good of a race- the human race, in Jesus’s case, a community, a family, or an individual- the latter two being common for young Hassan, is an essential component of learning to live a lifestyle of genuine love.

“. . . But the fact is, it was our pains he carried- our disfigurements, all the things wrong   with us. We thought he brought it on himself, that God was punishing him for his own             failures. But it was our sins that did that to him, that ripped and tore and crushed him- our             sins! He took the punishment, and that made us whole. Through his bruises we are             healed. Were all like sheep who’ve wandered off and gotten lost. We’ve all done our own thing, gone our own way. And GOD has piled all our sins, everything we’ve done wrong, on him, on him . . .”(Isaiah 53:4-6)

On a cold, fateful night in a cramped alleyway, Hassan takes Amir’s wrongdoings upon himself in a dehumanizing rape. When he runs the coveted last-kite of the tournament, he encounters the hostile Assef and his fearful followers who seek to teach the “useless hazara” a lesson. He is granted a choice, however. He can hand the precious kite over to the other boys, or he can pay the consequence that refusing to do so will ensue. He makes the choice that most- even the most loyal, most generous individuals could not dream of making. The kite is ridden with sin, with selfish desires, and with pride. Still, he defends it and the battles it represents with all of his might. The alleyway reeks of fear and of cowardice, yet Hassan humbly and courageously sheds his guileless blood.

Crucifixion was a popular, yet brutal, punishment established to rid society of the foulest offenders. The cross was reserved for thieves and murderers- not for those of innocent flesh. However, as was predicted by prophets of the Old Testament, Jesus took the fall for the inequities of many. In the last hours of his life, he is brutalized, mocked, and tormented for no fault of his own. Taking undeserved punishment for the benefit of one for whom mercy is equally undeserved is not something commonly seen amongst the human race. However, much of society today revolves around the belief that a single man laid down his life to do just that.

"He was beaten, he was tortured, but he didn’t say a word. Like a lamb taken to be             slaughtered and like a sheep being sheared, he took it all in silence" (Isaiah 53:7).

                                                                 

 

           Throughout the novel, Hassan submits himself to the mistreatment of the government, society, his peers, and even his own brother. Despite this, he does not respond to evil with evil, but attempts to overcome it with a powerful, and incredible compassion. Following the rape, Amir desperately seeks to find redemption by having Hassan give him the retribution he deserves. For instance, Amir assaults him with massive pomegranates, in hopes that he will retaliate.  “ ‘Hit me back!’ I spat. ‘Hit me back, goddamn you!’ I wished he would. I wished he’d give me the punishment I craved, so maybe I’d finally sleep at night” (Hosseini 92). Knowing that his transgressions are the reason for Hassan’s attack is exceedingly difficult for Amir to cope with, and he feels that Hassan’s venegence will quell his guilt. Nevertheless, Hassan’s unexpected gesture of clemency proves to be much more painful than his revenge ever could have been. I have found through the course of my own life that killing my enemies with kindness not only leaves me feeling more satisfied, but also gives them some sort of foundation of benevolence that I believe is important for all individuals, even the most coldhearted, to build their lives upon.

Hassan surrenders to serve his greatest debtors, as well as those he loves the most. Growing up as a servant to Amir and Baba, he lives a much more austere lifestyle as compared to his masters. While Amir goes through the motions of a routine he takes for granted, Hassan puts in tireless labor into a routine designed to supply Amir with his most basic needs. This unassuming servant will go to any lengths to ensure that Amir’s toast is buttered and his bags are packed properly. Not once is he idle in his duties. Not once does he utter a complaint. I find great joy in showing people love in such a manner. Although most overlook such small details, I myself feel most loved when others are consistent in going the extra mile to keep even the most minor aspects of my life in place.

Shortly before his death, Jesus takes care to wash the feet of each of his disciples. At this time, footwear was essentially nonexistent, and travel was by foot, therefore feet were characterized by severe wounds and griminess. Jesus brought himself down to that level in order to serve the ones that he loved most dearly. Although this ritual was not exceedingly drastic, it displayed a great deal of humility and care. Jesus left this model for his disciples of the selfless way they were to serve others so that they could benefit from redeeming love as well.

On Amir’s thirteenth birthday, Hassan encounters his assailant and is expected to serve him beverages. Instead of lashing out against the cruel Assef, or at the very least refusing to serve him, Hassan faces him with a gentle heart and a resilient spirit. I personally am an individual who will sacrifice most anything for someone that I love unconditionally, such as a friend of family member. To love my enemies unconditionally, however, is a much more daunting thought that makes me cringe in agony.

"Justice was miscarried and he was led off- did anyone know what was really             happening? He died without a thought for his own welfare, beaten bloody for the sins of             my people. They buried him with the wicked, threw him in a grave with a rich man, even though he’d never hurt a soul, or said one thing that wasn’t true " (Isaiah 53:8-9).

 

            When Amir returns to Pakistan to confront his past, he learns the unbearable: Hassan is dead. In a period of extreme turmoil and uncertainty within the nation of Afghanistan, there is very little that the Taliban cannot do. This is especially prevalent in an already ruthless massacre on Afghani Hazaras. Hassan is wrongfully accused of trespassing in the house of Amir’s childhood that he is trying to preserve. When he refuses to relocate his family, he is led out onto the street, shot, and killed, along with his wife. He does not argue, simply kneels and accepts his fate. I find that most incredible, along with the fact that until his dying moment he remained loyal to Amir, despite all of the anguish that their relationship had entailed.

"Still, it’s what God had in mind all along, to crush him with pain. The plan was that he give himself as an offering for sin so that he’d see life come from it- life, life, and more    life, and God’s plan will prosper deeply through him. Out of the terrible travail of the    soul, he’ll see that it’s worth it and be glad he did it. Through what he experienced, my righteous one, my servant, will make many more ‘righteous ones,’ as he carries the burden of their sins. Therefore I’ll reward him extravagantly- the best of everything, the highest honors- because he looked death in the face and didn’t flinch, because he embraced the company of the lowest. He took on his shoulders the sin of many, he took up the cause of all the black sheep" (Isaiah 53: 10-12).

                In my mind, there is only one word, and one thing, that adequately describe Hassan’s actions in The Kite Runner, and of course, Jesus’s in the bible. That thing is love- love that is merciful, embracing, and ultimately sacrificial. Although the historical Jesus is no longer physically present to see the far-reaching effects that his acts of mercy had on earth, the remarkable reparation of relation between God and man continues as new souls see this light each day. Although Hassan never lived to see Amir find the courage to embrace his son Sohrab, Amir ultimately learns a lesson of love, redemption, and forgiveness.  The fact of the matter is, loving someone, especially someone who has hurt, abandoned, betrayed, or mistreated us is no easy task. It requires a bold acceptance that the love we exude may never be requited, or that even if it is, we may never live to see its effect. It demands the humility to put oneself under another for the sake of compassion and the building up of others. Most of all, I believe that love requires an unshakable faith that in its most authentic form, love will accomplish its predestined purpose in due course- a faith that love conquers, love redeems, and love heals.

 

 

               The bonds of sacrificial love that tie humanity together are truly incredible, and the cross is the epitome of this love. In what ways has love redeemed you? Where do you still need redemption?

 

My Speck

           My life is a speck in the vastness of eternity- a tiny drop in a massive ocean. A mist that will appear, and then vanish. Like any human, I have an innate craving to make my speck matter somehow, to be the spark that starts a roaring fire. Recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that in order for my speck to matter, there must be some greater purpose behind it. The waters that make my life so small and insignificant must have some kind of great significance. My mist must come from something; it must vanish into something. If my spark is really going to start a fire, this fire must find fuel from a greater force. In this truth, I find my purpose. And if you have a minute, I’d love to share this purpose with you.

           

            Have you ever heard a romance so incredible that you just couldn’t find the right words to describe it? It left you breathless and wanting more. It filled you with indescribable joy and wonder. Maybe it even brought you to your knees. (Or maybe not. How you respond to cheesy romance novels is your business.) Most people spend their entire lives trying to figure out the whole love thing. But what if I told you that love is the reason behind your existence? Behind the existence of your worst enemy? Behind the existence of the world’s highest peaks? Behind the existence of the entire universe? It kind of changes the definition of love, at least for me. At this point, you’re probably beyond confused. But I’m going somewhere with all of this, I promise. 

 

            1 John 4:16: "God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in Him." This one verse is the reason I believe we’re here. Because God, the perfect, eternal, creator of the universe, who exists outside of all time and space, is love. And love must have a target. How crazy is it to think that humanity is that target? To think that before the beginning of time, God had a plan for an incredible, dramatic romance displayed in His relentless pursuit of mankind?  To think that He granted us with heavens that declare His incredible works and with a planet that we can call our own. To think that He reflected His most beautiful aspects- love, grace, peace, purity- not to us, but through us. And to think that He granted us with free will- something that I think makes this love story the greatest we will ever hear.

 

            Take a minute and think about the God of the Old Testament. I would venture to say you don’t have an exceedingly positive image conjured up in your mind, and I can’t say that I blame you. Until recently, I probably would have had a similar one. But let’s look in Genesis 2, where God warns Adam not to eat the “forbidden fruit” or whatever you want to call it. “You may freely eat the fruit of every tree in the garden, except the tree of knowledge of good and evil. If you eat from it, you will surely die” (Genesis 2:16-17). Surely die. To me, that sounds pretty final.

 

            But I think we all know how this story ends, whether we believe it to be a historical event, spiritual allegory, or pure myth. Adam eats the fruit.

 

            Plot twist: He doesn’t die.

 

Genesis 3:9: “Then the Lord God called to the man: where are you?” He called Adam by name. He forgave Adam. He wanted a relationship with Adam, and every man after him. So does this make God a liar? I don’t think so. I think it’s a revelation of the way God pursues mankind throughout the course of scripture and the course of history. God continues to reveal himself in this way time and time again. Yes, sin has consequences. But He never failed to reconcile Himself to His people, no matter how many times they ran away from His deep and endless love.

 

But from before the beginning of time, He had the ultimate plan. His plan was not to reign over the nations with fire and brimstone. His plan was not to receive futile animal sacrifices, or to oppress His precious children with a meticulous law code. His plan was to come down to them. To love and heal the people on the fringes of society. To declare messages that went completely against cultural norms: “Blessed are the poor.” “If someone slaps you on the cheek, offer also the other.” “Love your enemies.” “If you want to be perfect, sell your possessions and give to those in need.” “Everyone who exalts Himself will be humbled, and everyone who humbles Himself will be exalted.” Anyway, you get the general idea. He humbled himself and felt our hurt. Our pain. Our temptation. He sat with beggars, orphans, prostitutes, and lepers. The 12 men He chose to be His disciples came from pretty rough backgrounds. He fulfilled the law in ways that we never could. He humbled Himself to a horrible and demeaning death with the sins of all humanity imposed on His shoulders. And when He drew His last burdened breath, the curtain in the temple that once separated man and God ripped from top to bottom.

 

But it doesn’t stop there. He defeated sin and all its power. He defeated death and all its sting- all because of God’s radical, unconditional love for humanity. And now we can defeat sin and death through Him. Like Paul says in Galatians, “So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourself with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:26-28).

 

Here’s a question I get a lot: “Why are you so happy all the time?” Let’s be real. For those of you who know me personally, I’m not actually as happy all the time as I might let on. That would be . . . unnatural. But I can keep a smile on my face because I have been resurrected in a grace beyond all human comprehension. This love just swells inside of me so much that I literally cannot contain it. Nothing brings me greater joy than loving others the way God loves me- from the inside out. I love being able to say that no matter who you are or what you’ve done, you don’t have to hide. You don’t have to be ashamed of who you are. You were made in the image of God, and when He made you, He knew what He was doing. He will embrace your brokenness and use it to create a magnificent image. He chose you. And no matter what anyone else says, He loves you.

 

I’m impressed if you’ve actually hung in with me for this long. But by now, you may have some questions. Comments. Concerns. Know that I am always available to talk to you about anything, anything at all. If you ever need anything, my heart, arms, and mind are always open.  I’m not perfect. I don’t have all the answers, but I hold on to this truth: “For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I walked like a child, and I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of my childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know fully, as I am fully known. Now, the three of these remain: Hope, faith, and love. And the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:9-13). God is love. A relationship with Him is not a one-time prayer, a signature on a card, or  adherence to a set of rules. It’s just that. A relationship. A divine romance.

 

This romance has absolutely changed my life, and I’m sorry if my life has not always reflected that. It’s the ocean of grace that the brevity of my life sinks into. It’s the hazy fog that I know will eventually be made clear by God’s love. It’s the raging fire that I want so desperately to ignite. But the thing is, I don’t want to ignite this fire in front of people or for people. I long to ignite it in people, the way the God of the universe somehow longs to live in us.

 

My speck is part of a bigger picture.