‘So I arrive at the conclusion: Love isn’t made [love doesn’t sell or pay] but we buy and sell our love away.’

We do not merely want to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough.  We want something else which can hardly be put into words-- to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. – C.S. Lewis

To the few men reading this: it’s about to get really girly (and incredibly personal) in here.  You have officially been forewarned.

[Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of face the heart is made glad – Eccl. 7:3']

{My heart}
is a mess.  I have so many things wrong in that department that making a list of what ISN’T wrong with it would be far shorter.  Four years ago, I told Jesus it was His to take.  I didn’t know what kind of construction was in the future. 

is emptied often.  I used to think of people who were really good at breaking down my walls, making me uncomfortable, challenging me beyond what I thought reasonable, and holding me accountable.  But if those people were put together to form one MEGA-friend, Jesus would still put them to sad shame. 

is full.  The love for my God makes my heart so heavy sometimes that I wonder if it’s taking up too much room there, if my ribs can even contain so large a pulsing Love.  

BUT

has been broken.  I think with my head much more often than I feel with my heart.  But for as much as I favor logic and reasoning, lately it seems God has a lot to show me where “sense” isn’t sensible. 

At the very beginning of the semester I met a fiery, Christ-loving young woman (we’ll call her J) who isn’t even aware of how much I’ve learned from her.  God has given her this bright spirit of boldness that I hope I learn to mimic, and she’s that girl that goes anywhere and engages every single person she comes into contact with.  She stains the love of God on everything she touches.  And it’s absolutely beautiful. 
What I haven’t written here (because the process has been every bit painful) is that a little over a month ago, God used her to speak some of the hardest words I’ve ever heard.  He told me that I was precious in His eyes, and honored, and that He loved me [from Isaiah 43:4].  He told me that He’s concerned for every matter in my life, that every part of what He’s done/is doing/will do is significant.  He told me that His love for me is so strong.  And for the first time, I believed that with all of me; I held on to it like it was all I had.  And nothing has looked the same since. 

Like I’ve said before, I’ve always believed in the forever kind of love- even before I knew it begins and ends with the Lord, even before I knew it lived and breathed by His lungs.  Even when I was lying in bed listening to my parents slam doors and raise voices louder and louder, even when I witnessed so much unfaithfulness among extended family, even when I was dispensed of at will and stayed far away from ever feeling for so long.  It’s been ingrained in me ::Love is real, and it’s forever::
What I didn’t realize, until J so boldly and truthfully convicted me, was that I was worthy of it from someone else.

Boys (I’m assuming you’re still reading out of pure curiosity to find out where the overload of estrogen is), this is where it’s about to get heavy.  Really.   

Our Lord, God of the Heavens- of the lands, and the sea, and everything in them- created me.  And He made no mistakes in His creation.  Everything that He gave me is beautiful, because God doesn’t make ugly things.  To any who look upon me, every part of Him that is me is the beauty I wish to wear.  It is the exceptional beauty I hope to be.
And for the last four years, I’ve let man determine my worth.  I’ve let man tell me it was less than something honored and loved by a King. I’ve let man tell me I was easy to dispose of.  I’ve let man tell me I had to be better.  I’ve let man tell me I wasn’t pretty enough, or smart enough, or skinny enough, or emotional enough, or sensitive enough, or just plain: enough.  Enough to stay.  I’ve let men tell me I wasn’t enough to deserve their time; their care; their love.  And don’t be mistaken, this isn’t just “men,” though I’ve had my share of heartache.  Women seek a woman’s approval just as often as a man’s.  For the last four years I’ve been selling into this lie that exceptional beauty isn’t worth cherishing, or marveling, or treasuring- that all the ways God makes me His aren’t worth recognition from anyone, because who am I to demand a love like that?  Who am I to ask that anyone could cherish me? 

The answer?  I’m a daughter of the God of the universe. 
I strive to look like the revolutionary this world hadn’t seen before, and won’t see again until He returns.
I strive to speak in Truth and teach in the wisdom He gives me.
I believe that the whole Bible is the complete word of God.
I find surpassing joy from the life He gives me.
I try to walk like He did.
I am struck by the fact that the only woman I should ever compare myself to is the Proverbs 31 woman because she is the woman worthy of praise.

I want to wear strength and dignity.  I want to reach out my hands to those in need.  I want to love strangers and serve servants.  And when I am a wife, I want to please my husband.  Where I’ve stored bitterness and resentment for men, I want that to be expelled indefinitely and I want to honor him and to respect him.  I want to tend to the ways of my household and have my children grow to call me blessed.  I want to fear the Lord; I want to honor Him and revere Him.  I want to get to the end of my stranger-loving, servant-serving, God-honoring days and have one man look upon me and say, “Many women may have done excellently, but you surpass them all.”  Because I will be worthy of those words from someone. 

And as my mind looks back on any despair these eyes have seen- any trust that’s been lost, any bonds that have been broken, any sadness this heart has felt in all the sorrow that’s stolen my laughter- my heart will rejoice in the love that it has learned and the Truth that it has sought and revealed. 

For those of you that know me and spend enough time with me, know that I often like to make the claim that I’m not a real girl because I don’t cry, I’m terribly insensitive, and I hate feelings.  Turns out, God made me a girl.  A big girl.  And I can hate feelings and fight crying as much as I want, but at the end of the day, I’m wired like His daughter. 

We serve a mighty King far beyond our comprehension, ladies and gents.