Disclaimer: If this post becomes incoherent, I wasn’t sober for a solid majority of this past weekend. Most of my brain cells are still in recovery.
Due to my incapacitated state over the past three days, I’ve been awake since 4:30am this Monday morning. The advantage of being awake so early is that I get to converse with one of my favorite people who is a half-day away timewise. Instead of rehashing why our morning conversation is pertinent, I’ve just screenshot some of it. For informational purposes, he’s a married father of one in his mid-thirties.
1 Corinthians 13:4-8 (MEV) reads, “Love suffers long and is kind; love envies not; love flaunts not itself and is not puffed up, does not behave itself improperly, seeks not its own, is not easily provoked, thinks no evil; rejoices not in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. Love never fails. But if there are prophecies, they shall fail; if there are tongues, they shall cease; and if there is knowledge, it shall vanish.”
There is much to unpack in those scriptures, but I’m not a Biblical teacher so I dare not inform you on how to absorb it. This is a personal blog so I only speak of what things mean to me, and if that helps someone or if they can relate, I am beyond happy about it.
If these verses define love, I have never felt such for a man I was romantically interested in. In 2014-15, I was involved with a guy and I KNEW it was love. I mean I KNEW IT. Seriously, I bore things from this man that I never thought I would. All he had to do was smile and say my name, and it was like the sun was shining only on me. When it was obvious it had to end, I was devastated – crying at work, playing Adele on a loop – but I still didn’t walk away. I reached peak crazy (or so I thought). Because this was love. It had to be. I mean I wasn’t even telling my closest friends the full truth about this man because they wouldn’t understand how much we meant to each other. It took a succession of revelations to shake me awake.
That wasn’t love, though. We used each other. We enabled each other. We were making each other horrible people for our own selfish reasons. And since I’d always believed I was a better person than what I was presently engaged in, the reason why had to be love. A year later, I recognize that I cared about him deeply, but it wasn’t love. What we had did not, could not, endure all things, and that was okay. He remains a friend.
I’ve reached the stage in my life where I believe in love, where I desire love. I’ve reached the maturity level where I recognize not being my authentic self for fear of rejection is doing a disservice to me and where I take someone as the 3D picture they present and if that 3D picture isn’t worthy, reclaim me and walk away (Matthew 10:13-14). Well, attempt to walk away. You know those apps that lock your phone when you’re drinking so you don’t text or call your past? Yeah…I should have installed one before my first sip Saturday. (Those texts were funny, though. Ha!)
Love exists. You are loved so much a man died for you two centuries ago. He knew you were coming before your parents did, before your great-grandparents did. And He has provided everything you need for all that you have and will encounter. Love exists because you exist. And the love, the covering (read last week’s post!), that you provide your family, your friends, strangers you meet each day…Do you really believe it doesn’t exist for you in every way you need?
For all that know me, you know I don’t believe in that “Jesus is my boyfriend” nonsense. He is not that. I cannot cuddle the Word. But because of God, I know that I do not have to be perfect, less crazy, less myself for the love I want to enter my life. That’s my faith and His Grace. So whoever my Boaz may be, I can only pray that when we meet, we will not fail each other.
This morning’s soundtrack – Solomon Burke “If You Need Me”