Like a Wedding Day
I cried a lot at a wedding I had the honor to be a part of a couple weeks ago (shout out to Taylir & Chad!!).
-Cried at the rehersal dinner when Grandpa Ross prayed (seriously, that man can PRAY).
-Cried while talking with Taylir on the morning of the wedding about the parallel between a marriage and the way Christ loves His Church and the sacredness of what her wedding day represented.
-Cried watching her promise forever to a man whom I know has loved her fiercely and relentlessly.
-Cried listening to Karlie and Mark worship Jesus with their song while watching Taylir and Chad take communion and pray together.
-Cried watching the mother/son, father/daughter dances.
Seriously, so many tears. My friends made fun of me. I'm becoming a softy in my old age.
There's just something about a wedding, though—the Bride in white and the giddy Groom at the altar waiting for her. The tangible joy in the room. The way older couples look nostalgic probably remembering their own wedding day. The young, single women looking around wide-eyed and hopeful probably planning their future wedding in their heads. (sidenote: I am also aware of the pain a wedding day can bring as well: the reminder of your fractured marriage, or the wedding you never got to have, or the lack of relationship you're aching so badly for. And for that I am so sorry. I acknowledge your pain.)
During the ceremony I was watching Chad's face and the way he looked at Taylir—like she was the only person in the room full of a couple hundred people. The way a Groom should look at his Bride. And out of nowhere, I felt Jesus whisper "so is my affection for you, Kenz." Cue the tears. More tears.
In that moment watching Chad look at Taylir, I was also thinking about what it might feel like one day to wear the pretty white dress across from a handsome man in a tux, stand in front of our people, and make a lot of promises. Promise to love when it doesn't make sense. Promise to see him and know him. Promise to restore and redeem. Promise to fight for each other. Promise to never give up. Promise to stay. And Jesus took that opportunity to remind me that's how He loves me. Not just the Church in general, but me. Mackenzie.
I know it might be hard to understand that I don't feel like He loves me in a romantic way, even though that's how it might sound when you read it on this page. But it's not a romantic way, it's a faithful way. He loves me, He loves His Church, He loves His Bride. He's faithful. He's wild about us.
He loves us like a wedding day and like a marriage that's weathered 60 years: newly and grounded, giddy and peaceful, all in one.
Jesus has deliberately been showing me how much He cares for me, that He sees me and knows me intimately, personally, wholly, completely. If I would have typed those words a year ago, I would have cringed at the thought of being wholly known and seen. That used to scare me. I heard somewhere that as humans, our biggest fear is being fully known, and the one thing we ache for the most is to be fully known. But today I'm just thankful, because I've found rest in the truth that Jesus sees me and chooses me and chases me relentlessly. That He loves me the same today as He did a year ago. That He's faithful. That He delights in me.
He cares enough for me to make sure I hear it at just the right moment when I need it the most, and this time it was at one of my best friend's weddings. He took the time to nudge me and say, Hey, that's how I feel about you. You're my girl. I'm wild about you.
I'm so thankful for that moment. Thankful for the reminder that every time He looks at me He sees white dresses and loves me like a wedding day.
So, here is what I'm hoping: that you may rest in that, too. That He sees you free of guilt and shame, wearing the snazzy tux or the white dress. He's waiting for you at the altar, giddy and smiling. He's crazy about you. And if you pay attention, He'll tell you so. It might be the sound of your daughter laughing. Maybe it will be a sunset He commands just for you with extra purple at the end. Maybe you'll feel it when you hold orphans in your lap. Maybe it's when you rock your babies to sleep and kiss their sleepy cheeks. Maybe it will be a text from a friend telling you all the words you're needing to hear. Maybe it will be sitting at a table surrounded by your people, eating and laughing until your bellies hurt. Maybe it's when you sleepily drink your morning coffee in the rocking chair on the porch. Maybe it will be in a bar when you can't find it at the bottom of that beer. It might be when you're studying for finals at 2 AM, amazed at all the things there are to learn in this world. Maybe you'll feel it when you stand on a beach and let the waves slip over your feet. Maybe it's mile 3 of your early morning run.
Whatever ways He shows you, I hope it's a million little personal ways. I hope you know it when you see it and feel it in your bones how much He cares for you.
For me this time, it was a wedding day.
-Cried at the rehersal dinner when Grandpa Ross prayed (seriously, that man can PRAY).
-Cried while talking with Taylir on the morning of the wedding about the parallel between a marriage and the way Christ loves His Church and the sacredness of what her wedding day represented.
-Cried watching her promise forever to a man whom I know has loved her fiercely and relentlessly.
-Cried listening to Karlie and Mark worship Jesus with their song while watching Taylir and Chad take communion and pray together.
-Cried watching the mother/son, father/daughter dances.
Seriously, so many tears. My friends made fun of me. I'm becoming a softy in my old age.
There's just something about a wedding, though—the Bride in white and the giddy Groom at the altar waiting for her. The tangible joy in the room. The way older couples look nostalgic probably remembering their own wedding day. The young, single women looking around wide-eyed and hopeful probably planning their future wedding in their heads. (sidenote: I am also aware of the pain a wedding day can bring as well: the reminder of your fractured marriage, or the wedding you never got to have, or the lack of relationship you're aching so badly for. And for that I am so sorry. I acknowledge your pain.)
During the ceremony I was watching Chad's face and the way he looked at Taylir—like she was the only person in the room full of a couple hundred people. The way a Groom should look at his Bride. And out of nowhere, I felt Jesus whisper "so is my affection for you, Kenz." Cue the tears. More tears.
In that moment watching Chad look at Taylir, I was also thinking about what it might feel like one day to wear the pretty white dress across from a handsome man in a tux, stand in front of our people, and make a lot of promises. Promise to love when it doesn't make sense. Promise to see him and know him. Promise to restore and redeem. Promise to fight for each other. Promise to never give up. Promise to stay. And Jesus took that opportunity to remind me that's how He loves me. Not just the Church in general, but me. Mackenzie.
I know it might be hard to understand that I don't feel like He loves me in a romantic way, even though that's how it might sound when you read it on this page. But it's not a romantic way, it's a faithful way. He loves me, He loves His Church, He loves His Bride. He's faithful. He's wild about us.
He loves us like a wedding day and like a marriage that's weathered 60 years: newly and grounded, giddy and peaceful, all in one.
Jesus has deliberately been showing me how much He cares for me, that He sees me and knows me intimately, personally, wholly, completely. If I would have typed those words a year ago, I would have cringed at the thought of being wholly known and seen. That used to scare me. I heard somewhere that as humans, our biggest fear is being fully known, and the one thing we ache for the most is to be fully known. But today I'm just thankful, because I've found rest in the truth that Jesus sees me and chooses me and chases me relentlessly. That He loves me the same today as He did a year ago. That He's faithful. That He delights in me.
He cares enough for me to make sure I hear it at just the right moment when I need it the most, and this time it was at one of my best friend's weddings. He took the time to nudge me and say, Hey, that's how I feel about you. You're my girl. I'm wild about you.
I'm so thankful for that moment. Thankful for the reminder that every time He looks at me He sees white dresses and loves me like a wedding day.
So, here is what I'm hoping: that you may rest in that, too. That He sees you free of guilt and shame, wearing the snazzy tux or the white dress. He's waiting for you at the altar, giddy and smiling. He's crazy about you. And if you pay attention, He'll tell you so. It might be the sound of your daughter laughing. Maybe it will be a sunset He commands just for you with extra purple at the end. Maybe you'll feel it when you hold orphans in your lap. Maybe it's when you rock your babies to sleep and kiss their sleepy cheeks. Maybe it will be a text from a friend telling you all the words you're needing to hear. Maybe it will be sitting at a table surrounded by your people, eating and laughing until your bellies hurt. Maybe it's when you sleepily drink your morning coffee in the rocking chair on the porch. Maybe it will be in a bar when you can't find it at the bottom of that beer. It might be when you're studying for finals at 2 AM, amazed at all the things there are to learn in this world. Maybe you'll feel it when you stand on a beach and let the waves slip over your feet. Maybe it's mile 3 of your early morning run.
Whatever ways He shows you, I hope it's a million little personal ways. I hope you know it when you see it and feel it in your bones how much He cares for you.
For me this time, it was a wedding day.
Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteCrystal, thank you so much!
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