Let us acknowledge the LORD; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth. Hosea 6:3
There’s just something about walking outside the morning after a long night’s rain. The mingling smell of wet concrete and freshly dewed grass in the air. The smudgy sun peeping through your eyelashes because they- your eyes- aren’t quite all the way open, but you know it’s there because you can feel it, the warm after-bite of the cool morning breeze through your sleep shirt. And the flowers bloom and the birds sing in victory because there are worms. Everywhere. Stretchhh. Yawn.
To be asleep and to be awake are two totally different things. Obvious. But to be awake and to be alive are also two very, very different things. And if you would have me, I would love to tell a story of a of a girl who was awake, but was not alive. In fact, she was awake but she was dead and all the things that come with being dead. Cold, stiff, blind, void of any sign of life. She was also a few other things: searching, grasping, unworthy, broken, dirty, unfaithful, disloyal. For the sake of your time, I’ll cut the list short, but for all intents and purposes she was the girl she always swore she wouldn’t be.
As a little girl, she was fully convinced that boys went to Jupiter to get more stupider and, well, you know the rest. But as she grew, her innocence turned into curiosity and suddenly Jupiter didn’t seem so far away. Her need to know spread like a furious cancer through the 20-year-old brain that was stuck in her 15-year-old body.
She had known love. The love of her mother, the love of her father, but almost as if all at once, that was no longer enough. She began to give herself away, pinching off pieces of her heart, feeding these boy-shaped ducks because that’s amusing- feeding ducks. They follow you, they need you, they chase you until you’re out of bread. Just as fast as she was here and she was whole, she was half. A half of a half of a half.
And no one wants half.
Except, Someone does want half. After years of hearing how the sexually immoral are as dogs in the street or how they will indeed not inherit the kingdom of God, it all just became too much. She found herself having found “love” and having that “love” ripped away from her very fingertips and as what was left of her lay weeping in the floor, mourning the loss of any chance that anyone would ever want her broken little body, JESUS SAID, “those who were not my people I will call ‘my people,’ and her who was not beloved I will call ‘beloved’.” Romans 9:25 I want you.
And it was finished. Nailed to the cross right then and right there. There was no stain seen on her. Brokenness became belovedness. In a moment of utter self-disgust, truth met grace and the last I’s were dotted and T’s crossed and a story gained a new chapter. A chapter that will be read and rejoiced over because it is written. It is done. It is not to be re-lived, but re-used.
If you haven’t caught on, I’m not asking for a friend. That she is a girl I used to know, but when I look in the mirror now she looks a whole lot different- a whole lot ALIVE. If you or someone you know is battling this addiction, this desperate, never-ending cycle of void-filling please do not hesitate to reach out, because, in this Netflix and Chill generation it is okay to desire to be different, to desire change and freedom from chains this world has disguised as “normal.” Someone does want half and He wants to make that half whole again! You are not ruined, you are not to be taken out with yesterday’s trash, you are beautiful and there is hope and new life waiting to rush to your side in the rain, so let it pour.