Number One Fan

This isn't what I am supposed to be doing right now. Not by the standards of worldly order, anyhow.

There is a simple thought creating a consuming fire in me though. A thought that is about to gnaw it's way out of me if I don't turn loose of it.

You know those "God" moments when there is nothing coincidental happening and you keep getting the same message over and over and over and over again until you absolutely cannot ignore it? Yeah, so do I. They are mysterious and beautiful, yet sometimes you know that your heart is about to get a fine tuning of divine proportions when that knock keeps coming. Mine came today. What a glorious ache it caused, too.

The Holy Spirit kept leading me to scriptures about the death and resurrection of Christ. I kept chalking it up to it being Lent, Holy Week, etc. I should have known that I was supposed to go deeper. Finally, I did.  As I sat and soaked in the images of a dying God-man, my heart filled with love. Then anguish. Then despair. In my despair I was yelling at the cowardly disciples. Unable to understand how anyone could just walk away from that scene and not have their hearts ripped from their cages. Then I remembered that not everyone walked away.

Mary Magdalene. Mary, the mother of Jesus. The women. John. The ones who followed Him where ever His blessed feet led. Then the moment of epiphany; I would've been a Jesus groupie too. I would've followed Him anywhere. Everywhere. Can't follow Him into the temple? Okay, I will wait outside and swoon at the first glimpse of His face. Not supposed to be in here washing His feet with my hair? Call security. Don't like it when I let someone else do the work while I sit at His feet and lose myself in the sound of His voice? My bad. Have your people contact my people. Yeah, I'm trying to peek in the tomb, I just want to see Him one more time. No, I don't need medication.

You see where I am going with this? You cannot encounter the person of Jesus Christ and ever be the same. It kind of blows my mind that He didn't have a Beatles-like entourage following Him everywhere He went. No, instead Jesus had Pilate the Bounty Hunter putting a price on His head. Because of me. And you. Because of two people who engaged in conversation with a snake (who does that anyways??) and ate some bad fruit.

Unfortunately, that snake is still slitherin' about with a fang-faced vengeance. However, in my most humble opinion, the "fall" wasn't the most pivotal plot twist in the Holy Bible. The "rise" was. An empty tomb spoke louder than that snake could ever dare. The emptiness of a grave is what makes my life full. This thought is the one that haunts me though...

Why do I hesitate to follow Christ where ever He leads me in the now? Why do I feel like I would follow Him in the "then"? He has shown me through bloody tears, pierced hands and a pale, lifeless body that He loves me. What more do I want? Do I ask my Savior to prove it to me further and with such little regard to what He has already done for me? Father, forgive me. Do I continue to weigh the "gifts" God has trusted me with against their fruits? Father, forgive me. I'm being soul-bearing honest here and I hope you are too. I don't want to follow Christ because of what might be in it for me. I want to follow Christ because with Him, I am free to be me. The best version of me. Would Mary Magdalene have any reservations following Jesus now? Something tells me, no. To her, there was no alternative. She knew where He delivered her from and there was NO going back. Sister, I'm with you! Impart that devoted spirit to me, convict my heart towards love, truth, life and help me to shake that snake off into the fire! My talents cannot be buried and I'm no slave to an unkind master, I am free and love is my master. I just want to know Him. To be a part of His inner circle and recline at the table. Just a little longer...

So yeah, a simple thought has my heart on fire for my Savior in a new way. I can sit and ponder His pale, tortured, bloodless body or I can claim the blood that poured out for me and rejoice in His risen body. From the grave He rose, from the throne He reigns and from now until forever, He lives. As I let go of the ways that I've learned to protect myself and trust in Jesus, I am finding a sense of completeness. A sense of purpose. A sense of what living is all about. Others. Not me. Not my happiness. My happiness comes in feeling the Holy Spirit of my Savior thriving in my being and being able to recognize that the gifts He gave me, they are a part of Him. The very character of Jesus is alive in the gifts He so earnestly gave me. They won't be buried. They won't be put into a file for a later date. These gifts are given so we can literally love the hell out of our neighbors. Just like He did for us.

I guess when it comes down to it, I'm not really a fan. I'm a follower.


"Love one another as I have loved you."

Chocolate Covered Repentance

When words come out of our mouths, they take on a life of their own. Funny how a combination of letters and sounds, consonants and vowels can hold so much power. They can be twisted, manipulated and emphasized to either do harm or good. Too often I find myself marveling at how my sarcasm doesn't translate so well via text message. Or how a comment made from the best parts of my heart could carry a barb that stings the ears it falls on. Intentional or not, I find these moments to be among the most uncomfortable and I will mourn the inflicted until my heart bursts. Why am I so sensitive about this? Because I know who I am. I know the strongest gift God blessed me with. Mercy. And I am an encourager. It is my weapon of choice against that delusional dragon. Jesus did say that "out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks"(Matthew 12:34). If my heart is overflowing with love, grace and mercy, so will my lips to encourage. Why?

The word encourage has a secret. 

It has courage in it. Literally. 

Courage is what knights mustered up to save damsels in distress. Courage is what John Wayne described as "being scared to death, but saddling up anyways". Courage is the very strength Jesus bore that cross on His battered flesh with. Because He had faith that God knew the best and only way to save our bleak souls from the death we brought upon ourselves named "sin". 

When Jesus rolled a stone away from a borrowed tomb, He filled us with the courage to look evil in the eye and say, "where's your sting?". Have you read the High Priestly Prayer lately? Hours before Jesus died, He petitioned God to keep believers safe from the evil one. As Jesus faced death, He interceded to our Heavenly Father to protect us from sin AND that the very love God has for Him be in us. 

Yet, we barely have the courage to give up chocolate for 40 days. If that stung, I apologize.  I encourage you to go a little deeper and understand that Lent isn't about finding some trivial thing to "sacrifice" so you can joke about it with your friends. Lent is a season of reflection on our weakness and dependence on the Almighty God. It is a way to fast from our insecurities and feast on Grace. Engorge ourselves with truth and the ability to bravely call upon our Abba Father to forgive our ever wicked flesh. Think your flesh isn't wicked? Repent of pride then and swallow it down. Follow it up with a huge gulp love He will pour down for doing so. 

Lent has me studying love. Repentance. Resurrection. Not because I want to know about Jesus. I want to know Jesus. I want to know that when I open my mouth, I am saying what He is saying. Let me have the courage to announce the victory of my Savior by the way I love others. Because sometimes it is so much more than what you say, often it is how you love them. How much grace you have for them in their messiest moments, the mercy you show when they want to look away in shame. The gentle touch of fellowship and the simple acknowledgement that while we are imperfect, we can look to Christ who is perfect.

Announce the victory by acknowledging your failures and turning away from them and by not rubbing someone else's nose in their own. Shout it with the kind word you use to build someone up when they least expect it. Sing it at the top of your lungs by smiling at a stranger who looks like they can use a little courage. Be all there with the people you love, all the time. Have the courage to turn down the distractions, walk away from the argument or repair a relationship that never should have come undone. 

More than anything, have the courage to trust in the very God who brought you to life. Even if you can't see the light right now, do not stop being it. Draw your sword and encourage yourself, your family, your friends, your co-workers, your enemies and your world by the way you love. Think you can't make a difference? Have the courage to tell that thought to go back to the hell it came from. Jesus Christ didn't rise from the grave so you could live in defeat. Whatever it is you might be facing, I'm going to ask you to speak to it. Tell it this, "This time, I trust in the Lord". You won't be forsaken. You won't be let down. You will announce the victory you've been praying for and all of Heaven will rejoice with you. 

My identity is firmly rooted in faith. Even if my mouth gets me into trouble, I can rest assured that my heart is what God is interested in.  It is a heart convicted to serve Him, because complacency just doesn't taste good anymore. Not since I learned who I am. 

I am Heaven's Daughter. Courageous and dangerous with a sword of truth. 

If you aren't sure of who you are, I encourage you to find out, too. In the meantime, read this;

"For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons by whom we cry "Abba Father!" The Spirit itself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God." Romans 8:14-16

His word is alive and so am I. 

Love covers a multitude of sins. 

The Greatest of These

Have you ever held a diamond up and shined a light through it? It casts a myriad of rainbow colored hues in so many different directions that it is impossible to contain all of the beams. This effect, is a multiplication of light in a broad spectrum of colors. Quite a miracle if you ask me. This is exactly what happens when Jesus pours His love into us. It is true, when Jesus puts His light in us, it comes out in vibrant ways and scatters in so many different directions that it leaves satan's head spinning. This is why love is the greatest of all things. This is why love is our most lethal weapon to plunder hell with. I wonder if Hallmark will ever put that on a Valentine's Day card? "Roses are red, violets are blue, I'd love nothing more than to plunder hell with you". Now, THAT is romance! Those hues, bouncing off of everything, can color the darkest places and make them beautiful. That is what love has done for me, at least. Is that more romantic?

Today, as we all know, is Valentine's Day. This, is going to be a mushy post. Don't say I didn't warn you. 

If you've read my previous blog posts, you know that I love God, my Father, with all of my mind, heart and soul. What I haven't mentioned much of is the gift of love He put in my life in the form of my one and only. You see, a couple of years ago, I bumped into this guy who lives across the street from me and nothing has ever been the same. Only a Father as loving as The One who rules the heavens could know that he'd be exactly the one to love me in a way that would break down the fortress around my heart. He is steadfast in a way I have never known. I've thrown my best tantrums, had my worst meltdowns, failed and triumphed and all along the way, he's never left my side. He's seen the worst of me and loved me in those moments. He has seen the best of me and encouraged me to go even further. There have been times when I have made it difficult to love me and he was merciful, dug in and loved me even harder. My insecurities have become easier and easier to leave behind because of who my sweetie is. A man who loves the Lord. A man with an earnest and loyal heart who wants nothing less than God's best for me. A man who chooses to not only love me, but to love and care for my children as well. He doesn't have to, but every single day he looks after all of our needs, never once worrying about whether or not it is his repsonsibility to. The most humbling thing I can acknowledge though is this:

He loved us when we were the least of these, so that I could experience the greates of these. Before I turned my heart over to Christ, before I was Gospel Girl, there he was loving me and my children. When I had nothing to give, he didn't try to take anything from me. When I couldn't find anything good in me, he still saw it. When I was standing on the ledge, he talked me down. He helped me find my faith and walked me into the church where I found my home. He has shown me what hope looks like and continues to help my build my dream.. And the greatest of these? This is the kind of love that endures all things. The kind that wakes up and chooses to do it all over again no matter what. And every day, I choose him.

Happy Valentine's Day, sweetie. 

Father, the gift of love you have given me in Brad is exceedingly beyond anything I could have ever asked for. Thank you for loving me enough to bring me to the one person who would shine Your light so brightly into our lives, I praise you for Your wisdom and Sovereign hand in our lives. Please continue to bless us as we walk towards you together and lead our children towards your Kingdom. Also, his eyes will always be my favorite shade of blue, you did a great thing there! In Jesus Name, Amen. 

White Hot Redemption

I've been fumbling around, doing this "living" thing and part of that meant letting God be God while I attempted to heal from some chasm-like wounds. Part of that meant stepping away from blogging for awhile and diving head first into my past to confront some uncomfortable monsters who had been living under the bed.

The result? I stand here, intact, sword in hand and wearing a humble smile of victory. My Father showed up and reminded me Who I belong to and that monsters under the bed are His specialty. I'm stronger, which in turn has made me more vulnerable. I'm a warrior, which in turn has made me more peaceful. I'm forgiven, which in turn has made me more forgiving. Most importantly, I am chosen. I haven't quite figured out what all that entails yet, BUT and this is a big BUT, I feel called to something with such a ferocity that I know He has it all figured out and the details will work themselves out. There is one thing that I wanted to share though, it is equal parts humorous and sad but I feel convicted to put it out there, nonetheless.

I got really, really angry at everything and everyone before I was able to slay those monsters. Including God. Shouting at God in my closet was a low point until I tried shouting at God in the shower, in the car, on the couch...on a retreat. You get the picture. I was an angry girl, probably scared a few folks and even got annointed once in the process (I think they were afraid I was going to start shouting at them next). I didn't want to do it, but I had to get down into a pit and look those things in the eye to answer questions that I'd been allowing to burn in me for far too long. I found that the biggest sin that engulfed my life was this; I didn't trust God. I'd learned a dangerous habit, I guarded against hope with a singularly destructive thought, "God is against me". Somewhere along the way, I'd been lulled into that lie and accepted it, while rejecting myself. I rejected everything about myself and was angry that God made me the way I am. Never once did I stop to consider any of this was a lie. It just felt too natural to accept that I was wrong, made unlovable and condemned to a life of bitter struggle and a voice in my head repeated this shouting soundtrack of shame and hopelessness around the clock. Now imagine the moment in the pit when I looked the monster in the eyes and realized the shouting voice belonged to it. It wanted me to reject myself so I would reject God, you cannot commit one without the other. Imagine the moment I realized the sound of my Savior's voice whispering very closely, waiting to be heard all along. Whispering everything I had been thirsting to hear my entire life, "You are so loved, adored, treasured. You don't have to do anything, just be here with Me." All my life, I've been "doing", "trying", "wanting" and all it really takes is to be in His presence. To seek His voice.

White hot at the lies of the monster you'll never be enough. White hot at the ruin your life is such a mess. White hot anger poured out of my core THIS TIME, I TRUST IN THE LORD! 

My anger didn't have a language to explain itself. My anger shifted. My anger was finally aimed in the direction and focused on the target it should have been on all along. That monster got really small and quiet as the love of my Heavenly Father became the biggest thing I have ever known. That anger, white hot and scorching is now cooled to the perfect temperature and will be forged as weapons. Love. Mercy. Forgiveness. Grace. Courage. You hear the jingling? These weapons, they will be used to help free others. Ever seen a girl equipped with love and redemption? We mean business. So yeah, I took a little time off from blogging, but don't count this girl out. My Father says I'm only getting started. "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" Hebrews 11:1 ESV . I have faith.

Lord, I'm ready now.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things 

Empty Pockets

"The traveler with empty pockets will sing in the thief's face."- Juvenal

Sometimes, emptying the pockets of my children's clothing can be an adventure. I've found rocks, pine straw, bottle caps, race cars, peanuts, lip gloss, secret notes and even one, very dehydrated lizard. All of these small treasures (even the lizard) remind me that my children are healthy and thriving, doing "kid stuff" like pros. If they are collecting moments of joy in their pockets, I have no complaint! I have to smile and think of our Heavenly Father and how He loves when we are healthy and thriving, being Christ-like in how we approach our "human stuff". The times when we put His word in our pockets and keep reaching our hands back in to feel and hold them, rubbing the most liberating ones between our fingers. I wish that those were the only things I had in my pockets, but just like my own children, I had accumulated a few items that I couldn't quite part with. And ever so gently, ever so mercifully, God asked me to take them out and let Him look at them.

I didn't want to. Those were my things, things that didn't touch the light of day, let alone the light of God.

 You see, I had a pocket full of memories that I didn't dare take out. It was so much easier to just shove other things down in there until they were jammed in the bottom. Joys and blessings, nestled atop thorns and shards. The sharp objects seemed to always find their way to the top though,so that when I did reach down in there, I'd come back with an injury more often than I'd like to admit. I realized that although I have accepted Christ in my heart, although I know and believe there is only one, true God; I still held on to a belief that there were parts of me that God didn't want. So I kept those parts hidden and buried way down and not only did I accept the lie that Jesus couldn't or wouldn't want to heal them, I was foolish enough to believe that I could keep them. The Holy Spirit said, "Let me hear your story". God said, "Empty your pockets and lets take a look at these things. Together." Not now Father,  they hurt too much. Please anything, but that. Don't make me go back, I will be okay, I promise. My story felt like home to me. My story would be like a literal hell to anyone else. "Good", He said. "What better place to start?"

I had a decision to make. Would I continue to hide these things and let them injure me? Would He really be there to look at these things with me? Why now? Would He still love me? Yes, I became one of little faith over these things and that is when I realized that I wouldn't dare question God if He asked me to do something good and help someone else. I remembered God's promises. I remembered the person of Jesus Christ and how he delivered a demon possessed Mary Magdalene who became one of His most faithful disciples. I remembered the bleeding woman. The woman at the well. For the first time, I believed that God's promises were meant for me and that if He was asking me to do this, He had a reason. After much prayer and deliberation, I finally saw that He wanted me to speak His truth into the dead bones cluttering the graveyard of my past. My Father wanted me to go back to each place with Him and examine it. So, I poured my story out and as I did I noticed each shard reflect the lies that were attached to them. I spoke His truth over each one as I felt my Savior come closer and closer, offering His strength to move from one to the next. I understood why we must confess our sins before God, because sometimes those sins don't originate as our own. Sometimes they are sins others committed against us that we ingest and shackle ourselves to when we believe the lies attached to them. They become ours when we nurture a spirit of ambivalence, hopelessness and fear. They bind us to them and restrain us from truly knowing Jesus Christ. True shackles clasped upon us that start to feel so comfortable that we forget they are there. Until... Until someone tries to embrace us and then the shackles dig in and rub us raw, reminding us of how they got there to begin with, reminding us of how we have been bled out of trust and worthiness a long time before. We push the tender gesture away with a look of longing, rub a balm of protection on the wound and keep enough distance that the wound can scab over. Again.

Jesus Christ came to set me free. Too many times I turned Him away when He tried to tell me, "I can heal that too...". Too many times I turned my face away in shame and re-adjusted the shackles. This time, I reluctantly met His gaze. Looking into the face of mercy I said, "I am ready."

All this time of simply nursing the symptoms of pain has come to pass. I went to the source of the pain, I went deep into the locking mechanism and with the strength of God and The Kingdom of Heaven upon me, I was freed. Jesus wasn't willing to watch me lead others to him while I remained comfortable in the hell of my own past and I had to expose every painful memory to His light. In Heaven's wake, in each of those memories, I took that little girl and loved her until she knew that Joy is the truth. Hope is the truth and that she can believe in the Mightiest Protector and Redeemer that man has ever known. I went to that young woman and showed her that even when she felt condemned to a life of brokenness, God was preparing her for a life of purpose. His purpose.

And now, I rebuke every lie the enemy has ever told me and when he comes again to try to reopen the wounds, they won't be there. Jesus washed them clean in His mercy. The lies will fall like arrows without a point, missing their intended target every single time. I finally know that I am living from a place of victory, not hoping for it. I will sing a song of victory in the thief's face, I will proclaim God's redemption with every breath. And when I run out of breath, I will rest in knowing that those around me have heard the same songs and truths and that a legacy of hope will be passed down from me, not a legacy of shame. I thought I had to go to the source of the pain to heal and what I overlooked is that I needed to go to the source of all creation to heal; My One True God. He was always bigger than all of it and never again will I approach Him with small faith in His works. 

I admit this here and now, I knew that I had been delivered and had become a new creation in Christ, but because of my own inability to hope, I accepted this one, destructive thought; my insecurities were just a part of who I am and that I was destined to live with them forever. What kind of poppycock is that? Christ didn't hang on a cross in battered pieces and shreds so I could condemn myself to always feeling unworthy. He didn't want me to grab on to the end of his garments in hopes that He might not notice that I was hanging out trying to pick up the crumbs. Jesus Christ wants my heart, boldly. He wants me to know that He is the author of an ever challenging, ever elusive word for me. Hope. I guarded against it for far too long because of those lies I shackled myself to and when God met me at that last memory, I finally heard: 

 "For who is God, but the Lord? And who is a rock except our God? The God who equipped me with strength and made my way blameless, He made my feet like the feet of a deer and set me secure on the heights. He trains my hands for war, so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze. You have given me the shield of your salvation, and your right hand supported me, and your gentleness made me great. You gave me a wide place for my steps under me, and my feet did not slip. I pursued my enemies and overtook them, and did not turn back till they were consumed."Psalm 18:31-37.

God equipped me for hope from my first breath. Now, after my Savior has presented me blameless in front of my Father, my story will become a beacon and I am a vessel, willing to shine that light as far and as bright as HIS might. For the first time in my entire life, my pockets are empty of shame and my heart is full of hope. Father, I receive that these hind's feet are going high places. Thank you for it all. 

Oh, those shackles? This morning, with his arm wrapped around me in love and support, my best friend, the one person on Earth who looked at those shards with me, knelt at the altar with me and I laid those busted shackles down. For good. 

And God met me there.

"And we all with unveiled faces, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit" 
2 Corinthians 3:10 (ESV)

Divine Intervention

I knew this was going to be an odd week, but having an entire blog post *poof* was not even on my radar. My sincere apologies to my subscribers who may have stopped by to check out my new post, only to find a half-written draft or no post at all. My even more sincere apologies to anyone who was offended by either, everything I write is done with love. Immense love for those who haven't found the overflowing grace and mercy of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Truth-filled love for those who have, I hope.

Peace be with you. God's got this.


Love Does Not Delight In Evil

How To Breathe

I want a crazy, out of control love. A hot, pursuing, engulfing kind of love.

A reckless leap across a chasm into the unknown, a tailspin into bliss where the only place I can land is in HIS arms kind of love. 

I want this love for my Savior. God has it for me and the proof of that love hung on a cross in torn and hanging flesh, a crown of thorns upon His glorious head. In the beautiful and destroyed form of a man, love took its last breath and since then, we've all been gasping for it. 

I want to love Jesus in such an involuntary way that it comes as naturally as breathing. Maybe that's what Heaven is all about. Involuntary surrender to a love so incredibly cleansing and fulfilling, that you just take deep, measured breaths of the stuff and never get full of it. The people in your path, love. Instant love. The people in your peripheral, boom, love again. Never a reason not to, never a way out of it, not the first doubt about how or why. Every breath, a suspended moment of gratitude, greater than the one before. Can you imagine? No strife. No judgement. Not a word of condemnation uttered. Hard to even comprehend on an Earth so hell bent on getting it's own way. No pun intended. What we experience here is like struggling to breathe, drowning in "stuff" and just when you break the surface to catch a breath, someone else tries to push you back under. Most of the time they don't mean to, but they are so panicked over their own "stuff" that they don't even realize they are holding your head under. I already want to go back to that place up there, my chest feels heavy thinking about here. 

This is when I need that tailspin the most. When I feel like I can't breathe from the effort of trying to get my head above water. Right now, what I need most is that involuntary love that sends me headlong towards Jesus and the only thing I can do is crash into Him and hold on for dear life. Again, no pun intended. The real truth, the one I should rejoice in, is that I need that all of the time. I am really good at convincing myself that I've got this though. Pppsshhhaww, no big deal. This life stuff, it's a cake walk. Put our burdens on Jesus and just float along. You can and you will, so long as you don't wrench it back from Him and sure, you'll find me on my knees, praying for and about whatever thing I have convinced myself I need. You'll hear me flood praises on High for the countless blessings in my life. You'll see me serving and helping those around me, continually seeking the moment when I've got it just right. Some days, you can even find me teaching others to lean into Jesus with everything they've got and pouring words straight from the well of the Holy Spirit right into their lives. But where I struggle is in all of those in-betweens, that's when I want to love Him most and that is when it is the hardest. That's where I want to grow, I want to learn how to breathe again. I want to breathe Him. 

It is easy to adore Christ when you are doing the things He wants you to do. It's hard to gush and cherish Him when you have a puking kid, bills to pay and people unknowingly pushing your head back under their drowning point. And in the mundane, I fall asleep. I forget about mustard seeds and mountains, blind men and lepers. I forget to look for the myriad of miracles in the every day and therefore, forget to breathe the very life of the one who gave all for me. What's beautiful about this, what's amazing about Christ is that He loves me anyways. Right in the middle of my little mess, He's there beaming at me when all I can say is, "I suck" and mean it. He's there, piggy-backing me to the washing machine when I am sore at my kids and don't feel like messing with one more dirty sock. At night, while I am tearfully and silently lamenting the empty spot next to me, He is there wondering when His love will be enough, but tucking me in anyways, with a sweet prayer of mercy to our Father. Jesus sees me and doesn't see a single mom with messy kids, a car that's well past needing serviced and an account balance that would make most cringe. He sees me and its all love, it is all mercy. It is nothing short of Glorious. My Savior sees me serving when the most noble thing I have done all day is to remind my kids to brush their teeth. 

My mundane is God's miracle. My ordinary is His supernatural. My tedious, task-oriented day, is his harvest work. Let me see that, let me embrace that. Let me guard my heart and all that flows from it with this one, gentle reminder; Grace is my portion. Mercy is my portion. Love is pursuing me, consuming me, jealous for me and engulfing me right now. Jesus Christ bought and secured my future and there's no devil in hell that will keep me from it. Okay, so maybe not so gentle, but with the authority of Christ in me, I choose God's promises. I choose reckless love, wild love and to recognize the extraordinary in the ordinary. I choose this life, running in all abandon towards Christ. And you know what? He calls me chosen. God sees me and in spite of myself, he says I'm precious, adored, treasured and refuses to let me settle for anything short of that. So yeah, I am going to love this life, voluntarily, until the day God calls me home and I take that first fulfilling breath of victory, In Jesus.

Hallelujah.

The greatest of these, is love.