Precious Predilections

Tag: Jesus Christ

  • Keep the Change

    Keep the Change

    I see the depth of my humanity at the intersection of my darkest secrets and greatest hopes.  At times I am secretly afraid and yet deeply hopeful. Teaching has unearthed a myriad of emotions.  It has been a place where great joy and great need have collided.  I believe I’ve needed the presence of students much more than they have needed any lesson I have taught them.

    Living this dream has been nothing I expected and everything I’ve hoped for.  I didn’t expect exhaustion or gaps in communicating with those I love.  I didn’t expect to see the beauty in becoming a reflective practitioner. I didn’t expect to treasure sound feedback as much as I do.  I hoped for joy filled days.  I hoped that I would not be the only teacher in the room; that I might learn profound truths from the mouth of babes.  I hoped that my discomfort would point me to Christ.  I hoped that I would grow personally and professionally; both have occurred.  A memorable student-led lesson that impacted my personal growth occurred on the first day in the classroom.

    InkedMTR Class of 2019 Residents-Vision Prep-0020_LI

    “Are you nice?” – 5th Grader somewhere in Memphis

    On the first day of school I was full of nerves; all kinds of nerves and this student “had the nerve” to question my kindness?  I should be nervous, right?  It was my first day as a teacher.  However, the candor with which this student spoke during my initial encounter with him was refreshing and taught me a lesson in token vs. true relationship.  My first day attire was thoughtfully chosen. I “carefully” selected a colorful blazer and shirt which I thought wouldn’t cause me to appear too uptight that kids wouldn’t approach me or  too casual that I wouldn’t be taken seriously.  Clearly the student could not easily decipher the type of teacher I was and therefore decided to ask.  Truthfully, his sweet candor never left me.

    As adults, quick, unfounded, judgments are made upon initial encounters, and rather than finding out more about that person (as this student attempted to do), token relationships are established.  True friendships are established as we seek to know and be known by others.  Tokenism selfishly prompts us to hold on to a relationship based on what it can provide us and only access it when it has some direct value to us.  It says, “I’ll use this token when I need it.”  It has little care for the token itself, only what it can provide.  Tokens are cheap and so are token relationships.  The first day of school encounter has guided my interactions with students and adults in a new way.  This student has encouraged me to seek to know others and allow others to get to know me.  This knowledge doesn’t imply depth, but rather an earnest attempt to connect with others in an authentic way. This posture of connection with others has caused me seek to humanize others.  It is the start of every conversation and every prayer. Game changer.  This student taught me a lesson in empathy.   For 2019, ya’ll can keep the change.  I’m not in search of tokens.

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    As a self-proclaimed late dreamer, my professional growth as a teacher has revealed itself through expressions of love.  I thought my first day in the classroom would be love at “first day,” but it wasn’t. In short, it didn’t feel like love, but it felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.  And maybe this is love; not explicitly a feeling, but a knowing.  A deep knowing that you are safe and that the reciprocation of the love that you’ve given will be returned without judgement.  I have been loved well by a few in this season. These beautiful expressions of love have undoubtedly reminded this caterpillar that it was made to fly.

    There is a love that liberates and a love that feels like it’s always been free.  I choose freedom.  – Queen Sugar

    Teaching has been the realization of an unspoken dream.  Dreaming doesn’t actually feel “dreamy” and comfortable, but I do feel ALIVE!  Is it possible that in the dreaming I feel more human?  Does this awakening of my humanity define what it means to really live?    Living in the tension of hopes and heartache.

    Dreaming is defined on www.dictionary.com as an aspiration; goal; aim.

    To dream is to hope.  To hope is to live.

    I now dream of teaching students more than math.  I dream of teaching them of their inner and outer beauty.  I dream of teaching them how to navigate a world which doesn’t always affirm them.  I dream of teaching them to fly.  Fly, babies, fly.  When loved well, I believe flying is the only option.

    Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life. – Proverbs 13:12

  • Miseducation of Privilege

    Miseducation of Privilege

    As a Black Christian woman I have more anxiety on the Sunday or Monday following tragic events such as the #Charlottesville attack because the work of racial reconciliation is exhausting.  The Sunday following Charlottesville (which happened to be less than 24 hours later), I remember being hopeful as I entered church that I would regain some of my sanity.  At least a little bit.  Thinking to myself,  this Sunday at least one non-person of color would come up to me and legitimize the concern I privately expressed to many.  I recounted the personal conversations held following the election of our President regarding his rhetoric and lack of empathy for non-whites.  At the time, I shared that I thought his views would give credence to those who held extremist and racist views to become hyper-visible and less concerned with “hiding” their views or their faces.  We witnessed that in #Charlottesville.

     

    This was not a moment of wanting to be right.  This was a moment of wanting to be validated.  I wanted to feel sane, if only for a moment.  The context here is that I have spent countless hours listening, sharing, and praying with congregants and colleagues as we earnestly look to live reconciled.   Yet, I exited my phenotypically diverse church that day without a single conversation or acknowledgement from a white person.  I exited with increased ache in my heart.  I exited wondering how many more Sundays will I sit in this pew and wrestle with the passivity of privilege and the tone policing of my voice. I then hoped for a face to face conversation, text, phone call on Tuesday, Wednesday, or any day.  It did not occur.  Exhaustion enters stage right.

    After reflecting on Amy’s blog, How Do I Handle My Privilege, and her compelling question at the end which asked ‘What privilege do you have, and how can you use it to serve the underprivileged?’  I stumbled upon a revelation.  

     

    In the United States of America, privilege has been a silent teacher for hundreds of years.  Privilege, white privilege, for those who possess it, has taught that good things will come to them simply because of who they are – even if that good thing is racial reconciliation.   

    Many would argue that hatred is a learned behavior.  I’d contend that just as hatred is taught, so is the passivity of privilege.  It is mostly taught without using words.  Privilege by its very nature is passive.  It demands absolutely nothing of its possessor. It teaches its possessor to protect it at all cost.  Privilege indirectly teaches that if one desires racial reconciliation, then it will be achieved by simply waiting for the “perfect, comfortable, opportunity” to have a difficult conversation, ask an awkward question, or get to know a person outside of your ethnicity.  Privilege has written thousands of history books and passed hundreds of laws. And with events like #Charlottesville, it waits patiently to reconcile.  We’ve been miseducated, and the western church has been an active pupil.  

    Miseducation definition: a wrong or deficient education

    Racial reconciliation is costly.  It takes work.  

    Many desire racial reconciliation through a five-step process or a “quick read.”  I’ve had countless people ask me to give them a resource to navigate this difficult and messy space. For instance, there’s a local church in our city that offers a fantastic six week workshop on race which creates a safe space for people in the community to listen to one another, grow in empathy, and dialogue.  However, I’ve encountered many who’ve been content with attending this six week session and reference this as their “work” in racial reconciliation.  I commend people for attending; however, when this session ends, the work of racial reconciliation doesn’t.  If the only desire is a resource, racial reconciliation may not be realized.  It happens over time through empathy, honesty, contrition, and proximity.  Get close. Get uncomfortable. Get honest.  

    If the American church desires to really model racial reconciliation, the Church must re-educate itself.   Learn from Black folks.  Listen to Black folks.  Lament with Black folks.  Let Black folks lead.

    I don’t want a racial reconciliation that demands more of one follower of Christ than the other.  I pray that my encounter on the Sundays following tragic events are less anxious and more intentional.  As Amy stated in the previous blog, may we be known by what we lay down, rather than by any privilege we hold high.  

    As a follower of Christ, I remain hopeful that racial reconciliation will occur in earnest as I continue to engage in uncomfortable conversations, love others where they are, and speak truth to power.   I’m encouraged that others are doing the same.  I have not thrown in the towel on racial reconciliation.  Each day I hold tightly to the hope I have in Christ, anchored by the reality of my desperate need for Jesus as I do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with my God.  

    Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. – John 15:13

    Maybe the first act of laying down one’s life is to lay down the passivity of privilege.

    As we lay down our respective privilege, I pray that we build authentic relationships across multiple ethnic groups, help restore broken communities, and recognize systems that perpetuate marginalization for disadvantaged groups. May we use our power, resources, and influence to tear these oppressive systems down; decision by decision. Racial Reconciliation, like sanctification (process of becoming more like Christ), is worked out daily.  It is not a one time act.  It is a lifestyle.  

    The church has been “waiting” for racial reconciliation for too long.  Let’s intentionally give differently, life differently, and love differently.  Not just in words, but in lifestyle.

    May privilege be ousted as primary instructor in the work of racial reconciliation and be replaced by empathy that leads to action.

    “He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”  – Micah 6:8 ESV

  • Unveiling Hidden Figures

    Unveiling Hidden Figures

    The movie “Hidden Figures” took me on a roller coaster of emotions that I am not sure I’ve come down from.  Many [many] years ago, I was a budding engineer interning at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, FL who later turned down an offer to work as a long term engineer there.   At that time I had no idea of the premise of being a “hidden figure” in my career.  I was naive. Hopeful.  Trusting and hanging on to every word of those in authority; predominantly  the older, white men who were my managers.

    This derivation of mixed emotions comes from the simple, yet complex idea that things which are hidden are searched for intentionally, or remain hidden for a long time; only discovered by happenstance.  I honestly celebrate the healthy exposure that this movie has brought African American women in the science fields, yet my heart and life experience wrestle with the reality that any leader who chooses to unveil hidden figures in any industry must pay some cost.  It may cost some a bruised ego.   Others some of their influence.  Still others the very position that they may have aspired to or felt entitled to for years.  Truthfully, this is a cost that some are unwilling to pay.

    ***SPOILER ALERT***

    Choosing to Unveil

    When I re-imagine the bathroom scene where her manager tears down the “Colored Only” bathroom sign with every exertion of strength in his body, I am deeply moved.  Viscerally moved to tears.  I am moved because he had a choice.  He had a choice to leave things the way they were (which was perfectly legal) or to ensure equity for all on his staff at the expense of his social capital and the dissenting opinions of others. I won’t divulge details, but as a women of color who has experienced working on teams and with management who choose to unveil and those who don’t, I will say that I believe this act was far more courageous than depicted.  Now, before we toot too many horns, the most glaring paradox in this movie to me was that these women WERE ONLY unveiled because there was a DIRECT BENEFIT to those who had allowed them to remain hidden for so long.  In fact, the cost became too great for them not to be unveiled.  I mean, we’ve got to get John Glenn to space, right?  By the end of the movie, I joined everyone in celebrating the greater victory for America, but I could only think, the managers cowered because they had to; because they wanted victory so badly.  They DID NOT do the right thing simply because it was the right thing to do.

    I want to honor Martin Luther King, Jr. as we near the end of another #BlackHistoryMonth and highlight the response of Dorothy Vaughan, Octavia Spencer’s character,  who in fact did the right thing because it was the right thing to do. 

    martinlutherkingjrthetimeisalwaysright

    Leaders who Do the Right Thing (as reflected in Octavia’s charachter) are marked by:

    1. Recognition (of others) – She actively worked to recognize the gifts and talents of those on her team even if it warranted a promotion for them and practical obscurity for her.
    2. Innovation – She  developed a new way for those on her team to experience growth so that they were prepared to be unveiled when the time was right.  She risked the very promotion she had longed for so that the entire team rose to another level when she rose to another level.  Great innovation is often accompanied by great risk.
    3. Golden Rule Gratitude – With outward expressions of gratitude, she never delineated from treating others the way that she wanted to be treated.
    4. Hopefulness – She hung on to hope.  Her hopeful vision for the future propelled her and others forward.
    5. Tenacity – She displayed a dogged tenacity to lead and develop others with the influence given.

    There are hidden figures in classrooms, colleges, and places of employment everywhere.  Many systems in society have given visibility to some and not others.

    Today, I am less of a hidden figure.  Still being unveiled and grateful for it.

    One day, I hope it is said of me that I “did the right thing” as a leader; a person of influence.  I understand that I have a beautiful choice.  I will choose to unveil hidden figures when presented with the opportunity. Who will you help unveil today?

    “He must become greater; I must become less.” – John 3: 30, NIV

  • The Suffering Saint

    The Suffering Saint

    Recently, I have spent a lot of time thinking about suffering and my desire to avoid it at all costs.  It sucks to suffer. End of story.  January was laden with suffering and loss for a few of my friends; 3 funerals in 3 weeks to remember the lives of 2 fathers and 1 son.  Grief and sorrow have a way of lingering.    Jesus agreed with this sentiment as reflected in Matthew 26:38, where he stated, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death…”  Again, suffering sucks.  The unsettling truth is that as a follower of Jesus, I should not only come to expect the blessings of God, but with great certainty I should be mindful that suffering is also on the path of sanctification. Difficult truth.  And it sucks.

    suf·fer
    ˈsəfər/
    verb
         1. experience or be subjected to (something bad or unpleasant).
    This fixation on the avoidance of suffering came about after spending time visiting a friend in South Africa, where there is a chasm of classism left from the wreckage of apartheid.  During this visit more than any other, there was an acute awareness of the role that race has played in providing privilege to some and not to others.  As our conversations grew in depth, we both surmised that without even knowing it, we had developed an unhealthy expectation of “entitlement” to blessings as a believer and follower of Jesus Christ.
     en·ti·tled
    inˈtīdld,enˈtīdld/
    adjective
    1. believing oneself to be inherently deserving of privileges or special treatment
    It was almost as if we had said to God, suffering is for someone else, definitely not me. This unspoken paradigm of entitlement can wreak havoc on our faith when suffering arrives.  I then began to ask this friend how she maintained her faith during her most difficult moment when she suffered the loss of someone she loves.  She stated very simply and profoundly to “loosen my grip.”  Loosen my grip on the possessions I have.  Loosen my grip on the relationships that I hold dear.  Loosen my grip on my definition of what my life should be at this exact moment.  The “loosening of the grip” is an expression to hold those things and relationships dearly loved loosely in your hands, with gratitude and knowledge that all those things belong to God.  All of them.

    “Following Jesus wholeheartedly means facing the “most brutal facts of our current reality, whatever they might be” while holding on to our absolute certainty that we “prevail in the end” through his love and grace.” – Rick Lawrence, Jesus-Centered Life

    Perhaps a small part of what makes suffering bearable is our ability to savor what is good in that moment.  Another nugget of truth is that we can’t always see the things that are good in the moment of suffering.  What I learned during my time with my friend is that it is NOT in the overt acknowledgement of “all that is good” that gratitude arises.  It actually arises as we choose to be present with those who are suffering.  Present during the smiles. Present during the sorrow.  Present during the silence.

    I observed a lot of natural beauty during my time in South Africa, but there was nothing more beautiful than the comfort of a friendship that has lasted 13 years.  There was no pretense.  I liken it to the comfort of a good pair of old jeans.  They have holes, they aren’t perfect, but they fit in all the right places.

    I thought my time in South Africa would leave me only longing to ease the suffering of strangers.  That occurred.  I didn’t know that my time in South Africa would teach me in part, how to lament with the suffering saint and also teach me that suffering/sorrow/grief has no zip code.

     

    I want Jesus; fully and completely.  However, I still don’t want to suffer, but if I must, may I do so by leaning into Jesus and loosening my grip on all the things I’ve deemed too precious to lose.

  • Silence Doesn’t Feel Like Solidarity

    Silence Doesn’t Feel Like Solidarity

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    http://s.hswstatic.com

     

    Those that know me well know that I love truth more than I love comfort.  This past week, the ugly truths of police brutality, implicit racial bias, and systemic oppression of black and brown people made many uncomfortable.  In fact, many are still uncomfortable; particularly in the christian community.  This past week has pushed the christian community to take a serious look in the mirror and introspectively determine if diversity is something that is only espoused in word or actually lived.  And when I say actually lived, I ask… Are we brave enough to listen, empathize, and act courageously when it is counter cultural to do so?  When we might be afraid to do so?  When it is uncomfortable to do so.

    I have pondered why the #AltonSterling and #PhilandoCastile killings (by police officers) have caused me to grieve so deeply; more deeply than previous incidents of police abusing power.  More than #FreddieGray.  More than #SandraBland.  More than #MikeBrown.  More than #TamirRice.  More than #SamDubose.  More than…

    And then it hit me – this list does not seem to end.  Data from http://mappingpoliceviolence.org/ shows us that this brutality by police officers upon black lives is a systemic problem.  And…many of my non-minority christian friends have become mute.  I liken it to an ethnically mixed group of high school kids who are friends discovering that one of the black guys has chosen to go to the teacher after class and speak up for another black student who is repeatedly being poorly treated by someone in authority.  Most in this ethnically diverse group vow to show up  to help defend this black friend because they all believe this student is worthy of defense.  You may be able to finish this hypothetical story for me.  The friend arrives at the class room and sees that primarily his black friends kept their word to stand with him.

    Welcome to the #BlackLivesMatter movement. The silence of a segment of the christian community has been deafening because it feels like fear has rewritten the justice narrative and it has been more comfortable to remain silent, just give money or hide behind the cloak of one’s ethnic identity.  None of these positions equate to solidarity.  And none of them will bring reconciliation.

    Don’t be silent – your silence speaks loudly.  All week this “silence” has been ringing in my ears to the tune of “How can we say that we are the church when there doesn’t appear to be a willingness to bear one another’s burden?”  I’ve said it before and I will say it again; lament with us first. No solutions, just solidarity for justice.  A few days ago, a White, Christian friend of mine found courage to speak  even among fear. As I read her account, I could see how she beautifully wrestled with the fear of speaking publicly regarding Black Lives Matter and how the comfort of this fear was no longer greater than the cost of her silence.  Truthfully, her voice on this issue will speak more loudly than mine and this is why silence and/or apathy is not an option for the white christian.  Your silence may be communicating the wrong message. PLEASE READ HER PERSPECTIVE.

    Don’t JUST give your money – because settlements don’t settle it.   Now is the time to leave our paternalism at home.  This god-complex which causes us to want to “fix” the problems in the lives of those they are serving through money is crippling.  When we take a look at 11 recent high profile cases of men and women who had died at the hands of police, several of them received settlements between $5 million and $6.5 million dollars.  Settlement after settlement injustice remains. Giving money is a necessary part of the solution, but it is not the solution.  It takes courage to speak.  To attach YOUR NAME to cause in which you advocate for equitable treatment.  There is such anonymity in “only giving money,” but, when there’s person associated with a cause,  there is a different cost.

    Don’t forsake your eternal identity for your ethnic identity – I am a follower of Christ first and then I am a black woman.  #Realtalk – I am unapologetically black, but our eternal identity as Christians is what unites us. This means that as sisters and brothers in Christ, the higher call for all of us is to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly (Micah 6:8).  When I rise each day, I have to remember not to lead with my #blackness and that it is not the primary narrative that shapes my life.  The banner over my life is one of redemption from sin.  We have seen what sin can produce individually and on a larger scale systemically.  To my White brothers and sisters, I encourage you as well to lead with your identity as a follower of Jesus.  To seek justice for the marginalized.  To see the #imagodei (image of God) in others.  The practical steps to make this occur may be scary, but this is what I want to do.  I want to talk with you.  To share in and learn of your fears.  To seek God together for our nation.  To serve God together in our nation.

    I have decided to follow Jesus.  No turning back.  No turning back.  Jesus didn’t simply advocate for the marginalized when it was easy and comfortable.  He lived in the difficult places; had difficult, yet honest conversation to reveal and then reconcile hearts.  I too will live in that place if that is the first step towards reconciliation.

    Here is a sermon preached a few days ago on #Justice by Pastor Léonce Crump Jr. of Renovation Church. This sermon will make many uncomfortable before it encourages.  He is speaking the truth in love, so I’m comfortable with that.

    Learn to do good; Seek justice, Reprove the ruthless, Defend the orphan, Plead for the widow. – Isaiah 1:17

     

  • When the Healer Doesn’t Heal

    When the Healer Doesn’t Heal

    Heart_with_Bandage-512Sometimes I use music to silence the ache of my heart, but there is no song loud enough to remedy the ache I feel when death comes incredibly close.  Death always feels sudden and unexpected; sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t.  In youth and old age, the heart ache is just the same.  What is not expected is the piercing pain that is with you when you rise and prevents you from sleeping.  Causing you to toss and turn with questions you’ve never fully considered until tragedy has made it’s home in your inner circle of friends or family.  No longer a tweetable article you sympathize with, YOU KNOW the victim(s).

    I write about this as my heart has wrestled with what is true and what I feel.  I feel pain, anger, and hurt because I know God can (and does) heal, but He has not in this instance.  How do I reconcile my aching heart with what my mind knows to be true?  A friend is no longer here; a family member will never again give me a warm embrace and tell me that I “need to eat more chicken to put some meat on my bones.”

    As I increase in age, I have intentionally sought to simplify my life (some might call me a minimalist), but somehow it has become more complex.  Somehow in my thirties, trite answers such as, “everything happens for a reason” are no longer sufficient.  This response leaves me with little ability to be receptive to a statement which lacks empathy and seeks to assuage my ache if only temporarily.   This response now seems artificial; like ingredients that shouldn’t be touched.   Artificial when family and friends are dying of cancer.   Artificial when sudden car accidents end the life of the first,  consistent,  positive male role model I ever had.  Artificial when drug and alcohol addiction destroys the life of a young man biologically deemed father,  yet emotionally and physically distant.

    Tragedy has made its home in my heart and it is bitterly painful.  Parts of me want to apologize because of the toll this grief has taken – that’s not going to happen.  This need for apology causes me to desire to tuck away my vulnerability so that my friends and family can behold an apparently “happier” version of myself.  That is not healthy and is no longer my method of coping.  In earnest, I am not sure how long grief will be present, but I have made space for it. I am allowing myself to feel the pain of loss and to cry about it over and over again because this brings some healing to my soul.  When the Healer (Jesus) doesn’t heal physically, I know of no greater remedies than:

    • Those who remain close enough to  listen,  pray,  and cry with me.
    • Constant reminders of the beauty of community and that I do not have to be alone.   I can choose the presence of those that love me especially in my weakest,  most vulnerable state.
    • Those who speak the truth in love.
    • Beautiful memories imbued with laughter.
    • Honestly sharing my disappointment with Jesus who can shoulder it.  No longer waiting for all of the answers to life’s complex situations,  but somehow gaining better perspective of the resurrection and the beautiful gift of eternal life that death gave me.  Learning the spiritual principle of God producing life out of death.

    At the crucifixion, death came when some of the people present wanted healing.   From Jesus’ selfless act a newness of life has been made possible for all.   All can be made new.  Brand new.   Maybe death is more complex than I thought.   More complex than my longing for extended life so that I might personally gain or benefit.   More complex for sure.  I’ve learned how to praise God when prayers are answered as I expected; I am now embracing the difficulty of learning how to do so when they are not.  In order to do the latter, I must remember who the God I serve is…He is just; He is love; and He is a good father.

    My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the LORD. “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. – Isaiah 55:8 [NLT]

  • Dichotomy of Thirst

    Dichotomy of Thirst

    I am humored that the term “thirsty” has taken on a negative narrative.  I’m sure you know it…to be thirsty is to be desperate [for a man], so the new narrative goes.  So, as a woman in my mid-thirties, I often want to avoid the topic of marriage and my future husband because in no way do I want to appear thirsty.  But, as I began to think about it, I can see how all Christians face a dichotomy of thirst; a sort of decision we will have to make when two types of thirsts appeal to us.

    Truth is, I am thirsty – I said it.  I want to re-define thirst as it appears in Webster for the sake of this conversation.  Thirsty: feeling a strong desire or need for something.  There is a real desire to be married, but this desire also competes with my desire for God.  There is a real competition for my time, thoughts, and affection to be given in greater capacity to one more than the other.  There’s the dichotomy.  There’s always something demanding more of us and competing with God’s position of first place in our heart.  It may be a relationship, idea of success, or the pursuit of money.

    Below is a poem I wrote as I wrestled with the reality that my future husband’s love for me will also be something I must place on the alter before God.  There’s no space for idols.   Can I love both God and my [future] husband as they deserve?  Will my love for my husband cause me to become negligent in some way in my love for Christ?

    Dichotomy of Thirst

    How can I thirst for you and for Him  simultaneously?

    Simultaneously longing for the love of a man and the eternal love of the God man, Jesus.

    Can there be two possessor’s of my heart or will one of the suitors be left in the dark?

    Seemingly unrealistic to think my heart can contain all of the love from both of you.

    A pursuit so relentless that I must relinquish all of me.

    To be discovered, covered,  and chosen by one who is bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh.

    To be known so deeply that even the hairs on my head are numbered.  Seperator of my sins as far as the east from the west.  Engulfed by the one who loves me best.

    I have no justification for the latter love I speak of;  a most treasured gift o’ grace.

    This grace allows me to keep my love for my first love, FIRST.

    You see there is no dichotomy when I abide in thee.  When I make my resting place your bosom, I find my heart no longer at war, but rather at peace.

    For I realize that there is no love greater than yours, but that you also made space for a courageous heart to walk WITH me in this race.

    And while I long to meet him, I am reminded that I can love him most fully when I love you most fully.

    Thank you for allowing my heart to make room for another love.  To fill a desire given by You from above.

    As the two of you share space, I promise to give you first dibs.  I love you my forever Bride King Jesus and my future husband to be.

    —–

    All throughout this journey with Jesus, we must honestly ask ourselves whether or not our desire for _________________  is greater than our desire for Jesus.  Thirst is normal (naturally and metaphorically), but how it is filled makes all the difference.  May Christ be the first to meet our deep need and longing for love and every other desire pale in comparison.

    “O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
        my soul thirsts for you;
    my flesh faints for you,
        as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.” – Psalm 63:1