Devotional Archives--Jesus, Our Lover

May 17, 2004 —

The Bridal Gown

“As a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over  you.   Isaiah 62:5b (NIV)

I didn’t know before class that a thirteen-year-old would usher me further into God’s heart. We sat on hard gray folding chairs that lined old brown tables and dreamed of a place much more beautiful. We talked about the things we anticipated most in eternity—seeing Christ for the first time, exploring the home He’d prepared for us, seeing loved ones we missed.

“Miss Paula,” Jennie spoke in her soft, gentle voice, “when I think about the first time I’ll see Jesus, I picture myself in a flowing white dress. I’m standing in a forest full of flowers and there’s a beautiful river nearby. I look up and see Him running toward me. I mean, I want to run to Him but He’s running to me! He’s wearing a crown and in His hands He carries another, for me.”

Stunned, I was captured by her words—glimpsing a piece of God’s heart I hadn’t seen before. In the Bible God calls us His bride, but I had never seen myself in a white dress and I’d always thought I should go to Him, never considering He might run to me!

As I’ve pondered her words I’ve been drawn to a couple of scriptures. The first, found in Isaiah 61:10 (NIV), helps me see myself as that beautiful maiden in the forest. “I delight greatly in the LORD; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.”

As I read these words I can begin to believe that God has indeed prepared me as a bride for Christ—that in His plan to be united with me He has covered me in His righteousness and made me beautiful.

Isaiah 62:5b convinces me that God might actually run toward me as my young friend pictured. “. . . as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you” In this scripture I glimpse God’s desire to be with me. I can see Him running though the forest, His arms outstretched.

I can’t fully grasp the many facets of God’s love. In His word, among other things, I’m called His lamb, His servant, His child, A Saint, His friend, His lover, and His bride.

It’s easier to accept being a lamb—a lamb is so needy.

And a servant? Well, of course, working for God makes sense to my human pride.

A child? Sure. A child needs to be taken care of and I know I do!

A Saint? I don’t feel like one most of the time, but I can take that on faith. Christ’s blood has made me holy in God’s eyes, right?

A friend? That starts to get tricky. I can accept it as long as I balance it with the fact that He’s still Master and Lord.

But a lover and a bride? How can I process that? How can the perfect, holy One of the universe love ME like THAT?

I’ve responded to God by working hard to please him, but I’m learning God doesn’t just want me to serve Him. He wants a relationship with me. Everything He’s done, from creation until now, has been done so we could be close.

He LOVES me. He WANTS to walk with me as He walked with Adam and Eve in the garden. He WANTS to listen to me as I discover all He created for me to enjoy. He WANTS to hold me close. He REJOICES over me. Oh! To fully grasp this love!

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May 24, 2004 —

Flowers From My Lover

Early summer in northeastern Oklahoma meant thick green grass, branching tree limbs of large, full leaves, and flowers of all colors, but in 1987 all I saw looked dull gray. Hopelessness wiped the color from my life and I watched it on an old black and white TV.

Summer school was in full swing and I walked to class disgusted with myself. I’d let my depression overwhelm me to the point I hadn’t studied for an important test. After 3 years of working hard to maintain a decent GPA, I feared this summer would blow it.

I wrote a poem called “The Pit” and wondered how I would ever climb out. My growing sense of despair kept me from the sunlight; holding me down with cold, muddy fingers in a hole lonely and dark.

I don’t know why I took a different route to my class that day. I just felt nudged out off my normal path. I followed the concrete road between two buildings. As I turned the corner a brilliant splash of my favorite color broke through the black and white screen and burst into my gray heart.

I don’t remember what kind of flowers they were. I just remember that the bush was full of them and they were exactly that color of deep pink, not quite magenta, that I loved best. It’s the first time I remember receiving a bouquet from God.

No one will ever convince me the moment was a coincidence. It was a gift, pure and simple, and the sheer beauty of it helped me hang on a little longer.

Back then I hadn’t thought of Jesus as my Lover—my Bridegroom, as He is called in scripture, but, as I relive the experience, it is easy to see how He romanced me. Like a fiancé who knew and loved me well, He sent flowers that were exactly the ones that would minister to my heart. As the Lover of my soul, He knew what would bring me joy. He used a gift of beauty to awaken my heart to the truth of His presence and His love.

Since that time, I’ve received other bouquets. One particularly trying winter a single bright yellow pansy bloomed the entire season. It’s cheerful face peeked out at me from underneath the barren winter branches of the tree in front of my house. It’s happy color waved at me as it looked over the top of light snowfalls or popped back up at me when a heavy snow melted. I’d walk to my front door with a heavy heart, but as I put my key into the lock the pansy’s joyful color exclaimed, “Have hope! God is near!”

Paul writes in Romans 5:2b-5, (NIV) “. . . we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.”

I studied this verse back in 1987, that dreadful year when I contemplated suicide. What I learned is a mature Christian has hope. If I believe in God, I need to live in hope, not despair. Suffering is part of the Christian life, not an unexpected accident, but part of the package God uses to produce perseverance, character, and hope in my life.

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May 31, 2004 —

Longer Than

“For he chose us in him before the creation of the world.” Ephesians 1:4a (NIV)

“It’s hard for us to believe this, to really accept it,” said my pastor, “but God is crazily, insanely, madly in love with us.” The lights dimmed and candles about the room created a gentle ambiance. As he led us into worship, I pondered his words.

It was good to be reminded of the truth that God not only loved me, but was crazy in love with me. It’s a concept I’ve embraced only in recent years. The Lord took me through a season where He revealed His love for me in warm, romantic ways—gifts of flowers, words of scripture that leapt from the page, and love songs in the morning.

My favorite memory from this period happened one crisp fall morning. I snuggled underneath my covers, not yet awake. As consciousness slowly overcame the cobwebs of slumber, I heard sweet music ringing in my heart. The moment was so palpable, so tender, I knew my Lord was singing to me, revealing His love.

The old song filled my soul, “Longer than there’ve been fishes in the ocean, higher than any bird ever flew, Longer than there’ve been stars up in the heavens, I’ve been in love with you. I am in love with you.”**

I’d been in a study that fall called The Sacred Romance, written by John Eldgredge and Brent Curtis. They talk about how God speaks His love to the world in a million different ways. They say the whole of history is the story of God’s effort to romance our hearts and reveal His love to mankind. One of their many examples is the old love song, Longer—the song that filled me that morning. They conclude it is a love song from the Father to us.

Whether the composer intended it or not, God’s heart sang out each time that song filled the airways. As I studied the words I had to agree. Could anyone else have loved before creation placed fish in the ocean or hung stars in the sky? Could anyone but God understand a love higher than a bird can fly?

I’ll never forget the swell of my heart that morning as I felt Him singing to me—but I have to admit my humanity. In the midst of that wonderful moment, I was very petty. “But God,” I whispered. “You love everyone like that, not just me.” I wanted so much for that intimate moment to be just ours. I wanted to be particularly special to Him, not just one of those He loved.

I felt, rather than heard, his answer. It was as if He whispered, “But you are uniquely special to me, Paula. I am so big that each of my beloved fits perfectly with a piece of my personality that no one else completes.”

I lay still in my bed, awed that there was a piece of God that related just to me. The sacred romance of that morning speaks to me still.

Do you struggle to believe you are loved like that? Can you grasp the truth of a special relationship between you and God that no one else can share? Can you believe He loved you before He created the world? If not, I challenge you to ask Him to reveal His love to you. Ask Him to open your heart to the ways He calls to you in the sacred romance of your life.

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June 7, 2004 —

Passionate Lover

There’s something about the passionate love of a man for a woman. My favorite scene in the A&E mini-series of Pride and Prejudice is when Mr. Darcy, trying to overcome his feelings for Elizabeth, dives into a pond, fancy clothes and all. There’s something about the emotion of that moment—the whoosh of the water followed by the eerie quite underneath. My heart always beats a little faster at the intensity of Darcy’s love.

I have a friend who told me she couldn’t watch that movie. It would set her back for days—longing to be truly, deeply, and romantically loved. She and her husband have worked hard to overcome setbacks in their marriage and stuck with it through difficult times.

Both of them grieve things from their past—things that make it tough for them to show each other the love they feel. Neither of them had healthy role models for marriage. Both entered the relationship with holes in their heart, hoping to find someone who could fill them.

For my friend, watching Pride and Prejudice was just another assault on her heart, a reminder of the love she felt she didn’t have—until one day when she worked at her in-home business while her daughter watched the movie. My friend wanted to escape, but the TV and the workroom were in the same place.

Then, it happened. The Lord broke through. “I love you like that,” He whispered to her heart. In that moment the Lord destroyed the lie that my friend would never be truly loved. Now she lives in the reality of love bigger than she’d ever imagined—the only love that can truly fill the holes in her heart.

Now, when her husband is unable to meet her needs, she rests in the truth that she is always loved. Her newfound security has enabled her relate to her husband better as well. Since she’s learning to let God fill the empty hole in her heart, she’s able to see her husband’s needs with new eyes and receive the love he is able to offer her.

About ten years ago a different friend and I had a girl’s weekend and went to a movie that affected me deeply. I remember saying to her, “is real life ever that romantic?” When I returned from the trip I begged my husband to watch the movie with me. He wasn’t interested. He’d read a review somewhere that it was based on romantic fluff.

Recently my husband and I finally watched the movie together. It didn’t affect me the same way, but being a little further along on my journey with the ultimate Lover, I saw why I’d liked it so much.

The heroine in the story was a picture of Christ. She loved the man in the movie selflessly with no expectation of return. While she saw his many faults, she also saw beyond them to the wounded man inside who needed another chance, someone to see the “real” him. Though it made no sense, she fell deeply in love with him and gave him her life savings, never expecting to see it again.

That’s true romance, isn’t it? To be loved so passionately that we’re desired by our Lover in our worst moments, not just our best? Real love sees past our wounds to the person we were meant to be. When we’re loved like this we can begin to turn from our ugliness and become the person our Lover sees, even when we have nothing to give in return, even when we don’t deserve it.

That’s the love of Jesus. He emptied Himself of the glory of heaven and gave His life so we could understand the passionate love He has for us. He died so He could love us for eternity. He loves us deeper and more romantically than every sappy movie we’ve ever seen. He loves us with the passion of real love.

I can’t describe the way God will fill the holes in your heart. Each of us has different needs and unique things that minister to our hearts. In previous devotionals I told you how Jesus has loved me through songs and touches of beauty. My purpose in this devotion is not to describe how God will be your Lover, but rather to uncover your hunger for a relationship like that with Him.

A few years ago I didn’t even understand I could have a romantic relationship with Jesus. I began praying that God would draw me closer to Him and reveal Himself to me and over a period of time, He revealed to me His heart of a Lover.

I encourage you to begin asking Him to reveal Himself to you.  Then let Him show you the holes in your heart and the ways He wants to fill them. For me this wasn’t an overnight event. There was a lot of learning about relationship with Him before I was able to receive His lover heart. There are still days I struggle to believe it and yet, because I’ve experienced it, I can always return to the truth. Jesus is the best Lover of my soul.

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June 14, 2004 —

When I Can't Feel His Love

“Jesus looked at him and loved him.” (Mark 10:21a NIV)

This verse leapt out at me. It’s just one little sentence in the story of a man who failed Jesus, but I’ve thought a fair amount about it today. Jesus looked at this guy and loved him—not because the guy was going to make the right choice, not because the guy was doing all the right things. All I can figure out is that Jesus loved him because God is love. Loving is what God does.

I confess that for most of my life I didn’t get it. While I could quote the Scripture “God is love” and sing the song “Jesus loves me”, I still thought God would pull away from me when I failed.

I thought things like whether or not I’d prayed and read my Bible that day, whether or not I’d kept my spending within the budget, or whether or not I’d had control of my temper, determined how God would respond to me. The Christian life was about me and how well I did.

My times of peace were fleeting because I based my perception of God’s love toward me on my own actions. I disapproved of myself, so how could He approve? I performed for Him and when I didn’t meet His standards, I couldn’t feel His love. Disappointment was punishment for my failings and if God seemed far away I figured I wasn’t trying hard enough.

There are days I still get lost in this twisted thinking, but I’m learning to live the truth. I am loved because God is love. He doesn’t love me more when I succeed than when I fail. He doesn’t give Himself to me because I’m good enough. The Christian life isn’t about my performance—it’s about His. The need to be good enough was buried at the cross.

So, if I can’t earn God’s attention, if His love is mine no matter how I behave, what do I do with the fact that sometimes He feels far away?

There was a time I wrestled with this. I had gone through a season where God felt very close. I woke up with love songs in the morning and truth leapt off of the pages of the Bible and jumped into my heart. Sometimes I’d spend two or three hours alone with Him and feel frustrated because it wasn’t enough.

But then it seemed to stop. Why? I tried to spend time alone with God but I overslept. When I did get up before the children to grab time for prayer and Bible reading, it seemed dry. I couldn’t make myself do the things that happened so naturally just months before. An old slogan haunted me: “If God feels far away guess who moved?” But I didn’t feel like I’d moved.

I’d had some teaching that said if God felt far away it was because you’d sinned. I grappled with this. I wasn’t living my life differently than when God felt near—besides, that thinking went against everything He taught me in the season He’d felt so close. I’d come to believe in His heart of love toward me. I knew I could never lose His love because He died for my sins—past, present, and future—and sin could never again separate me from Him.

During this season, I experienced a series of particularly hard circumstances. I drove toward home one evening crying out to God. “I don’t get!” I said, “I don’t understand Your sovereignty versus spiritual warfare. I don’t understand why sometimes You seem so close and other times so far away. I don’t understand entering your suffering versus living in a fallen world.”

And then, without even knowing they would be my next words, I said. “I don’t understand anything . . . except that I am completely accepted and loved by You . . . and it is enough.” I realized then that even when He felt far away, there was a solid place inside that knew I was loved.

Perhaps God allows the winds to crash against this building of my life, letting it shake a little, to reveal to me the solid foundation underneath. When God pulls me close and then sends me out in faith, the most important truth I can hold onto is that He loves me. Always. Deeply. Completely.