Faith, hope and love can’t be killed, but they sure can be paralyzed.
The question is . . .what to do with that realization? How does a cynic regain innocence and trust? It’s easy enough to dismiss the “romance is for sissies” mentality when you compartmentalize your heart and mind, but when you step back and see the big picture affected, you have to wonder. How did the undertone of distrust in your sarcastic humor become the foundation for an entire worldview? And WHY is it so hard to truly believe and feel the awesomeness of God and His love.
Yeah, love. That from-your-toes-to-your-head ecstatic-in-your-very-soul knowing that you are known. Not perceived. Not remembered. Known. Actively, eternally, truly, known. More than any man can know a woman, more than the people who are so familiar you can’t remember when you met them. It’s all well and good to say “Jesus loves you!” But it’s become so clichéd that we forget what that means. Jesus knows me.
….how I wish I knew Him more.
It’s amazing how that works. The truth of “We loved Him because He first loved us” becomes more and more understandable as I get older. When someone spends so much time and effort in getting to know you, you cannot help but want them back. It may start as a sort of obligation, but come on. He died, went through Hell and came back, JUST to love us. To know us. That’s worth a little more than five minutes of groggy “Hey God, please give me a good day, amen” every other day or so. It’s worth more than singing with arms outstretched in a group of other people singing with their arms outstretched. And it’s certainly worth more than a “pshh. Yeah, I get it” nonattitude.
I’ll never fully understand the insanity of His love, but I’m [re]learning that seeking Him is far more satisfying than trying to figure out what I keep calling my life.
