Learning to be loved

I've never thought of God as a romantic. I mean, that's just a weird concept. He's holy and just and loving and grace and all the other church words we slap on the end of His name to identify who He is and how He works, but romantic? No. That's awkward.

But tonight, I sat on a hill in the dark. My heart was troubled and disquieted and I needed to be alone for a period. So I sat and watched a full moon drift between wisps of clouds. The air was cool, and a breeze kept playing in and out of the trees and across my face. There were birds quietly calling to each other; stars kept winking at me from the black canopy above my head. And I sat there, pouring my heart and my hurt out to a God who was waiting. And I was reminded that He keeps my tears in a bottle. And He is passionately jealous for my heart to be His. He knows who I am and He sees me more clearly than anyone ever will, and still He loves me way beyond the shortcomings. The failures. He pursues me because I am His, and His desire is to see me perfect. Whatever means necessary, to whatever end, He is coming for me, and He consistently meets me in the quiet places, at the broken places, at the hurting junctions and the rubber-meets-road choices. Despite how I sometimes make Him feel, despite my infidelity, He takes me back with the same intent love that He first found me with. He is ok with me being angry and opinionated. He is also ok with me just being quiet. He is ok with me being hurt. He is ok with me being needy. He is ok with me being messy and broken and burned out. He understands me, and He meets me, not where I strive to be but where I am.


And most of the time, these encounters are at my desk. Or in my classroom. Or walking to lunch. Or sitting in church. Or having a conversation with someone. And they are beautiful, because seeing God always is. But sometimes, He finds me under the stars and sends me a breeze with a full moon at midnight.

And I have to admit, those are times that I fall a little bit deeper in love.