I’ve got about 15 minutes to spare waiting on a video to export so I can use it for homework. Homework I care absolutely nothing about. Why? I can’t get my mind off Jesus. I’m trying to contain it so I don’t come off either pious or annoying. I think it’s because my soul and mind resonate with the simple fact that I think I’m really in love with Jesus.
Remember when you first fell in love? Marrieds, remember when you met your bride/groom to be? I remember first meeting Micki and just being in total awe of her. I thought she was totally out of my league. She actually is. I remember just thinking about her constantly. I couldn’t wait to be with her, and when I was with her I didn’t want to be apart. I hung on her every word. I wanted to know her. Everything about her. I wanted to get to her soul. I was totally into her. I still am. I love that girl.
It took a few years of working things out in our marriage, but I’ve got to tell you that I know I married the most amazing woman ever created. How do I know this? I know because I’ve given all of myself to her. And I’m better. I’ve sold out to Micki Archer. She has my heart. I trust her. I know her. I’ve given this to her as a gift. She has taken this gift and is stewarding it well. She loves me into being a better man. A better husband. Father. Lover. It’s a thing to celebrate. Over the years of crazy hair, crazy dreams, and tragedy, this woman has been there. We’ve walked through the shadow of death together. She’s anchored to Abba and so am I. This link draws us deeper. This amazing season is overwhelming as I think about it.
So why this lovefest for Micki? Am I just writing to suck up to her? No. I was trying to compare or find some sort of marker to why I’m completely distracted by life these days. I can’t get my mind off of Jesus. I can’t stop thinking about Him. I was trying to figure out what this was all about and it came to me tonight mowing the lawn. And it sounds cheesy. But I’m totally, madly in love with Jesus. Not some sort of junior high infatuation. I was trying to put my finger on it and it came to me. It reminded me of when Mick and I first met. And how I still feel about her. As I was mowing and singing, the realization came to me and it made me laugh. I just told Him as I was singing, “I love you, Abba. And I’m in love with You. Thank you for loving me.”
This is the reality I’m experiencing: He loves me. But deeper is His love. He loves me not just in the “He died for my sin” love. He loves deeper. I believe He genuinely is totally into me to. That He’s crazy about me. Really. “My afflictions are exclipsed by His glory.” I think He thinks about me. Why else would He pursue us? Like we pursue those we love. Like Micki and I pursued each other. Or how we pursue our kids. It’s crazy to me. I feel like I’m in junior high again. And here’s the deal: I’m not in love with being in love. I’m not infatuated. I think I met someone. Remember when you said that? That’s where I’m at. My stomach is jiggly sometimes. I’m feeling reckless. Remember when you would do anything for that love? Stay up all night? Do crazy things? Embarrass yourself? That’s me at this very moment.
I’m sick and tired of worshipping an old god who waits for us to get right or be better. I’m tired of worshipping a god with no power. I’m tired of worshipping a god that doesn’t deliver. That doesn’t empower. That doesn’t change me. I don’t know what I was worshipping. Maybe it was me. But “I don’t have time to maintain these regrets, when I think about, the way He loves me.” I’m not going backward to analyze. That’s what someone who’s not in love thinks like. When I fell in love with Micki, I didn’t try to figure out what made me feel this way or how I could experience this more. I just fell in love. And gave myself to this girl as I fell head over heels for her. I know I’ve given myself to God as a kid. Grown up pursuing Him. Lived for Him. I know I’ve been a pastor and lead people to Him. I don’t dismiss any of these things or minimize them. They have helped shape me.
How can you figure out that I’ve been listening to “How He Loves” by Kim Walker and another version by the David Crowder Band for more than two hours all together. Nonstop. It hasn’t gotten old. What’s up with that? I can’t explain it other than annoionting and love. That’s all I’ve been listening to the entire time I’ve been typing this post.
What I know is that today, in this moment, I wish I could put my life on hold and just be with Jesus. Think about Him. Read about Him. Pray to Him. Pray with Him. I can’t get enough. I’ve never felt like this. I’ve never been like this. Except for when I first met sweet Michaelene. This is real. He is real. More real than He’s ever been to me. So it’s interesting that this gift, this desire, this connection is different than duty. Than discipline. Although they come with it, just like marriage. But it’s more. It’s an awakening to the sheer freaking magnitude that, holy crap, THE God of the universe genuinely and truly loves me. He just does. And interestingly enough, He’s already stepped up to the plate in pursuing me. He’s already given Himself up like I have with Mick. It’s cool as I process this in this moment how it all seems to fit together. Interesting, isn’t it? How crappy is the marriage with no trust? With no commitment? With no soul? With no heart? With no passion? This is the picture of Jesus’s love. He’s demonstrated it. Now my part is to respond.
Abba Father, Jesus, Holy Spirit, I love you. I’m in awe of your love. It’s overwhelming to me. I love you back. With reckless abandon. Keep renovating my heart. I give myself to you to make me who You want me to be. Keep cleaning. I’m totally good with that. But more than that, thanks so much for your powerful love and helping me realize it. You’ve captured me. Ravish me with your love.
You know what? All this talk about love and recklessness has me all fired up. I’m finished getting files for this massive homework assignment. But I’m so not doing it. I’m coming home, baby girl. The homework can wait. It’s time to screw responsability and be reckless.