a beautiful mess

I'm supposed to be writing a paper for my Jesus class about Jairus' daughter and the hemorrhaging woman. It's my favorite story in the Bible...maybe of all time...and the fact that I get to write about it makes it so clear that I absolutely chose the best major. But I can't get past even just reading the story without weeping.

My backpack-messenger bag-purse thing is exploding with books about miracles and healing...a research paper...I don't know how I'm going to write a historical paper about an event that, 2,000 years later, changed my life....I don't know how I'm going to write it without it being infused with words that make it so clear that this story has reached into the deepest parts of my soul...that Jesus has reached into the deepest parts of my soul.

I love this story. To me, this story is Jesus. Throw away the rest of the Gospels, the letters of the epistles, get rid of Acts and Revelation...get rid of it all (though I never would...), this story is enough to show me who Jesus is. This story alone forced me into a love that I can't explain or escape. Intimacy, inclusion, grace, power, understanding, compassion. And I've been soul searching...going deeper than I ever have before, being met by a God of grace, by a great Love that leaves me restored, that leaves me in awe.

There are no words to describe it. He thought of everything. Everything. And I can't think of anything, certainly not enough to describe this...but it puts me in a state of awe, of wonder, enough to forget my beating heart and my racing thoughts and remember that God is God. And I am...not. Less than God, greater than a sparrow. His eyes are above me, surrounding me, holding my gaze; my breathing slows, and the pounding stops, and He is God.

It's a love that has been present since time itself, that wove me together with needle and thread...this love created me with all of my quirks and idiosyncrasies; it's a love that can't be ignored, that He forces me to see, that wakes me up in the morning and lulls me to sleep at night; it's a love that requires more of me than I ever thought I could give, that is not satisfied with my comfort, that expects more of me, and, in turn, leaves me craving more more more. It's a love that I don't deserve. That is the beauty of it.

And I don't always know how to let Him love me; to receive it into my soul sometimes requires vulnerability that I don't always feel comfortable with...to let down my guard and give into His heart. To love Him back sometimes feels like a journey that will never be complete. To love Him, sometimes, happens with ease; other times, He digs it out of me. To love Him sometimes means that He takes a metaphorical jackhammer to my heart and breaks through walls of distrust, walls of fear, walls built in response to humans and heartbreak. And after rereading what I just wrote, I'm not sure if I'm talking about God or about a human.

The walls do come down though. I sing and shout and praise, and they come down. Like in Jericho, they crumble. And my heart lays, tenderly beating, in His hands, my pulse getting stronger and stronger, empowered by the transfusion of Love that is constantly occurring.

And now, I'm feeling antsy. I know who I am, and I know what I want, and I'm waiting, waiting, waiting, for what feels like forever. It's taken a year to get me to this place, and I'm arriving, albeit not always gracefully. Old things are reaching their conclusion, and new things are beginning, and I'm anxiously awaiting my next adventure. I want to shout it out and tell everybody about my big plans, the dreams that keep me awake at night, hoping and praying, but, maybe by the grace of God, I hesitate. I'm afraid He'll change my mind and, once again, redirect my course, and I don't want to explain that to the masses.

And it's been quite a year. It's been a year that, had you shown it to me in advance, I would've laughed. Looking back back back, there are things that I never thought I would survive...and there are joys that I never thought I would experience. It's been transformational and difficult and fun and wonderful and, in a word, beautiful. Beautiful in its twists and turns, and in its ability to keep me guessing, keep me seeking, keep me in a state of perpetual wonder. Even now, beautiful. Always, beautiful.