I thought about writing a blog about my life without necessarily saying the name Jesus. Seriously, it was a thought process. I figure by the way I live my life, people will tell there is something different about me. I don't know why but as soon as you bring up Jesus' name, things get uneasy. Palms begin to sweat. People's hearts begin to race just like they do during public speaking. The inner dialogue starts, "What will I say if she asks me about Jesus? What do I think?"
This is my reaction to that: Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.
I'm not saying His name in vain (you know that way you say it when you stub your toe) that could get awkward. I don't want it to be portrayed in text that way. I am saying His name on the rooftops because He is my everything, every breath, every word, every step is for Him. Jesus will be brought up. Talking about my life can not go without Him. Full, satisfying life is interlaced with Jesus. Think about lace, it is fine and has great detail, Jesus is thread together by love, hope, truth, life, sufferings, joy, sorrow, pain, adventure. All of it. Everything.
When I was driving home from my innertube water polo match, I was for one soaking wet. Two, I was reflecting on whether I should continue to play. I am usually calm, but for some reason I suck at being competitive. I either am totally apathetic, or totally am anything-goes-just-win mode. Tonight it was the second option, (yes, you read it right, I was worked up over an innertube waterpolo match) but what is righteous competition? Is there such a thing? And I do not know. But I was so worked up that my emotions were not by any means showing others selfless love, and I felt wronged by how I acted. Then out of the ordinary, I heard "I married you"
It made more sense than ever.
I am the Beloved. I am the Bride. I am the walking example of the book of Hosea. He loves me for my faults, for my failures, and for my screw-ups (and oh do I have many). He loves me when I beg Him to leave me alone. He loves me every time I fall short of being perfect.
I can not hide a relationship that intimate. Sharing stories of my crazy life will not be enough if I don't mention the One I follow. Jesus wrecked my life. And the story of how He is putting me back together more beautifully is one heck of a story.
