What a Weekend (and a Splash of Hope)

Some days are without description, as words would fail horribly and only serve to dull the sweetness of the moment. Therefore, I don't want to bog myself down with lengthy descriptions or thoughts that really don't matter.

I realized the other day that I stopped believing in a lot of good things a long time ago. Life isn't perfect, c'est la vie, suck it up. All to say: build dreams that are slightly in the realm of attainable. Stop reaching. Accept what life hands you and be satisfied.

...But that just isn't in me. I was once told that a Christian's worst temptation is not to give in to worldly temptations, but rather to settle for the satisfactory. I think God has far more than satisfactory in mind.

This weekend was beyond description. Amazingly, I was able to focus and just...be. The first night was wonderful because the message was on understanding God's love for us. To truly, fully grasp that concept is a lifelong process, but standing there singing "How He Loves" I was brought back to my roadtrip and the moment I knew that I knew that He loved me. For real. Not some concept for study or a gift only given to the holy, but for me. He loves me, not because I try to be strong or beautiful or smart or likable, but just because. He just does.

And then. The point that brought it all together. Bring on night number two. Before the message, the speaker was giving words to people in the audience, and as he began his third personal message I knew I would be next. First I told God He didn't have to give me anything, I would be satisfied without anything that intimate (and public). Then I begged Him not to. And then the speaker called on me. He asked if I was comfortable with these people, my peers and authority figures; were they a loving family I could trust?

My honest response: "Some."

My real response: "Yes."

Something inside me clicked and I knew this wasn't just for me. Other people needed to hear it too.

He told me it wasn't to embarrass me, but to use as an example. And he pulled out a twenty dollar bill. I had heard of this illustration before in different classes as a visual prop for youth groups, but I had never actually seen it done.

Randy: "Do you know what this is?"

Me: "Money."

R: "A twenty dollar bill. And I want to give it to you. Do you want it?"

L: "Yes."

R: "Okay, just give me a second."

And he crumpled it in his hand (sidenote: American money crumples so much cooler than Canadian). He spread it out again.

R: "Do you still want it?"

L: I know where this is going... "Yes."

R: "Okay, one more thing."

And he smooshed it into an even tinier ball, threw it on the ground and stomped on it. Every stomp was a knife in the heart, a weight on my shoulders, a new memory. He spread it out again.

R: "What about now?"

L: "Yes."

R: "Why?"

L: "Because it's still twenty bucks."

He went on to explain value. The bill still had monetary value, despite how it had been mistreated, crushed and abused. It still had value. I still have value. That's how Jesus sees me, and how He wants me to see myself. I have not lost my value.

That twenty is now the new bookmark in my Bible. Already I can see the creases begin to become softer as the continuous pressure of my ridiculously heavy NASB squashes it into submission. Diamonds are created from coal in extreme pressure and intense heat; gold is refined by burning out the impurities; I am being turned into something beautiful, something valuable, by pressure, weight and heat. The impurities are being burned away in the wake of the Consuming Fire who is jealous for my love. My love. Incredible.

I am not beyond saving. Hope.

He has a plan bigger than all of this. Faith.

It is by His grace and compassion that I get another shot. Love.

And the greatest of these is love.