Several days ago, a friend of mine posted a few thoughts regarding love and relationships. It reminded me of something I wrote last year, back in August. Reading through it again, I realized how true the words have become in my life over the past few months, in ways I absolutely never would have imagined. I consider these to be small signs–looking back, I see how this one piece illustrated how my heart was to be worked on, how my life would be changed, how God would show me His Glory in the coming months. It’s hard to believe it’s nearly been a year since I wrote these words on August 1st, but I can’t imagine a more perfect time to return to them. He is Mysterious indeed, but ever Faithful, ever True.
I pray for someone to share all the love and life that seems to be bursting out of me. I don’t want someone who completes me, because no one ever will. I am completed in Christ, perfect and righteous and holy and pure. No, I don’t want someone who’s perfect for me. It’s not about perfection, because two people full of holes won’t ever make something solid. This is about two broken people who draw their strength and love and life from God alone, fully knowing that nothing of their own will could ever produce what they share. I want to love deeply and laugh loudly and live fully–and I want to do it all with that person.
I’m not looking for Mr. Right, because he’s not for me. I’m looking for the person who is as passionate about loving other people the way God does, the person who cherishes every moment and delights in life. I’m looking for the person who wants to journey through this life with me, caring about more than me being okay. In fact, I don’t want them to simply look out for my okay-ness. I want them to see me broken and not shy away, but roll up their sleeves and bare their own scars and say we’re both broken but remember Who is making us new.
I want to love them in all of their past and present and future, all of them and all God has for them. I don’t want soft and easy and flowers. Now, give me the hard, dirty, awkward, terribly messy yet incredibly beautiful journey of loving someone. I want all the joy and all the tears, all the right moves and all the disastrous mistakes, because only in that fullness are we really living and loving together.
I’m not just looking, and I’m not just waiting. I;m relying on God, in His Holy and Sovereign Omniscience, to open my heart to that person. I trust that He will work in me to keep myself open and sensitive to what He has–to see and to know who that person is when He sees fit. I know He will not take my fears away but use them as grounds for me to grow, to draw me closer to Him and that person that He has for me.
And I trust these things not only in an intimate relationship between me and God and that person, but also in the life we journey together. I trust God to work on and in my heart and life, so that I will be able to have children and care for them in the way that He knows is best for the entire family. I rely on Him to create a home that is sometimes safe but always brave, where there is courage and devotion and overflowing amounts of love, spacious not in square feet but in room–room to talk about anything, room to struggle and discover and wrestle and cry and scream, and search and find and laugh and live.
I don’t know how it will all play out, and I’m fine with that. I want the journey, with God and that person, wherever He leads us, because I know My God is Sovereign and He not only has a good or great but the absolute best journey for each and every one of us–through dark and light, tears and joy, brokenness and renewal, consequences and redemption.
In His Time,