Needy people are so annoying

I went to all-school communion tonight. I wore the dress I got as a bridesmaid this summer. I wore it partly because it cost me $100 and I refuse to only get one use out of it. I also wore it because I am a size 6 and really happy about that. I also wore it partly because it is a pretty dress and makes me feel a little pretty when I wear it. I was also escorted by an entire floor of guys (about 20 in all) that have adopted me as their floor sister, which made me feel very special. I laughed nervously a lot and played with my thumbs. Yes. I am still 5 years old. Shut. Up.


But I didn't want to talk about my dress(ok, I did a little, but I'm over it now). I wanted to talk about what God told me sitting there between two very handsome young men in the auditorium while the piano music floated softly to the ceiling.


As I was pouring out my fears and stress and nervousness about the upcoming semester, God interrupted me (He normally has to, because it's hard to get me to shut up, as you might have experienced if you know me) and asked a very strange question.
"Do you love me?"

So I answered
"Well, of course I do. Although I suppose it is a love born of need, one that You really have no need for. So I suppose it's the same as me saying I love oxygen. How could I not love it? I couldn't go on without it, I couldn't exist without it, it sustains me at all times and I can't imagine not having it. A baby loves it's mother because it needs it's mother. That's all it knows. That's the relationship, an endless supply to a vast demand. You love me with a gift kind of love. There's no reason You need or have to love me, You just do. I on the other hand, can only react to this love and love You back because I need You. To tell You I love independent of that would be a prideful lie."

So I was feeling very small and pathetic, because that just sounds terrible. I'd like to think I bring something to God other than a yawning, empty chasm that is crying to be filled, but when faced with reality, I have to admit that I can't. I love Him, and I do it because I need to. I need Him. I just try not to think about it most of the time. And the funny thing about repetition, if you spend your time convincing yourself of one thing, after a while you become convinced. And then God surprised me again.
"This semester, learn how to need me."

And I can't tell you how much of my life is spent trying to be sufficient and in control and competent and successful. I can't express how much I have built up my castle and reserves so that I never need anyone or anything; because things fade and fail and people let you down. And I really can't tell you how I'm going to learn how to need because all my life I've been trying to convince myself I can take care of it.


I don't need to tell you how though, I'm sure God's plans will work with or without my understanding. He generally does what He wants. Not generally. Always. And I thought it might be a good reminder to anyone who reads this and struggles with the fear that you won't measure up, that you'll fail and be left behind, that you just won't be good enough. You're needy too. And that's ok. Because, by design, you get to learn how to be filled by the perfect giver of all good things. And that's an encouraging thought