The question instigated an inner dialogue with my younger self and I wondered if there was a pattern that I could trace; something that could give me a lead to the million dollar question in my teenage life, a question I remember having been repeatedly asked from the ages of nine to nineteen; why are most of your friends girls?

Though I am uncertain of how many of you will resonate with my words in this post, I am convicted to open up my heart, representing those sailing/ who have sailed similar waters to me, and to start a discussion with those interested.

Please note that the sole purpose of this post is to firstly, aid all of us, as the Body of Christ, to understand one another better by sharing a singular perspective on friendship that you may not have experienced “so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other” 1 Corinthians 12:25, and secondly to encourage us to dig deep, confronting our long-forsaken past insecurities that may be hindering us from moving forward in our present, “Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed…” Jeremiah 17:14.

Let me start by asking you;

Are most of your friends the same sex as you or the opposite sex?

Mine, for the majority of my life, have predominantly been of the opposite sex. I think it’ll be helpful to give you a background into why I think that has been the case; hopefully some of you will share similar experiences and relate to my story.

Throughout primary school I was mostly friends with other boys out of circumstance, not choice; I have no sisters and wasn’t surrounded by any young female relatives. I attended an all boys primary school and living in Cairo at the time, had very little exposure to girls at church. I do have distinct memories however, of eight year old me purposely avoiding to cross paths with specific boys due to a lack of relatibility. I vividly remember a sleepover with a church friend that left me feeling very ‘different’ to say the least; it was our tradition to play the Lion King PC game, but that evening my friend deemed it a “girls’ game” and we played, what was to me, a boring generic car-racing game instead. Little did I know that this was a glimpse into what I was going to encounter for the next ten or so years of my life.

Migrating to the UK aged 9 highlighted my disinterest in the majority of toys/ activities targeting my age/ sex demographic from the get-go; I could not care less about sports or cars and I certainly preferred drawing in my sketchbook or playing Pokemon Sapphire on my GameBoy Advance SP, than GTA with my brother on ‘our’ PS2. Befriending other males throughout secondary school became an intricate process of elimination; I deeply cherished the few that made me feel understood.

Though my social skills flourished in my teens, I began to embrace my introversion more and more – needing an intimate environment to feel safe. Naturally preferring and seeking long lasting one-on-one friendships, the false ‘revelation’ that I would not receive the intimacy I desired out of a friendship with another guy, was one I quickly believed. Without overly generalizing, I believe that young men struggle with emotional expression due to the hyper-masculine social construct they are born into from the get-go. Large male-dominated friendship groups are preferred over singular brotherhoods at that age as they provide a safety net from raw emotional expression, by masking a boy’s brokenness with quality banter and social hierarchy. In my case, the few male friendships I did harbor, disintegrated as quickly as they were formed.

Insecurity in Masculinity:

Having little in common with the males around me while growing up began to plant a seed of thought that I am not “man enough” for, what I perceived were, masculine tasks/ interests. The words “you’re just different from the other boys” that I had heard oh so often, began to seep into my skin and I had begun to base my entire identity on who I was not, rather than who I was.

Befriending females thus became very simple; since I was not like the other guys, and neither were they (being females themselves), we met on common grounds. I grew tired of the constant feeling of being “less manly” than the company surrounding me. I grew tired of proving my masculinity by faking my interest in subjects and banter that did not stimulate me. I grew tired of it all.

“The more one experiences pressures to “show oneself” and demonstrate masculine competency, the greater the hypervulnerability. The reason is that “showing off” one’s manhood is an emotionally immature process. This manhood is insecure and is based on what one does rather than who one is. Insecure masculinity comprises a set of behaviours driven by fear to prove to the world that one’s manhood isn’t weak, yet these same behaviours can inadvertently increase the feelings of fear they are intended to eradicate.”

– Niobe Way, Adolescent Boys – Exploring Diverse Cultures of Boyhood 

In an oestragen concentrated environment, testosterone is very easy to spot.

And that felt good.

It fed my ego when I was asked questions to understand the perspective of a guy by my female friends. I no longer sought masculine validation from other guys as it was affirmed by the multitude of girls around me. This insecurity in my masculinity grew deeper, cocooning me in a dangerous comfort zone around females, that neither challenged me as a man nor helped me to feel represented.

Though healing low self-esteem/ self-confidence, particularly targeting fragile masculinity as in my case, is a life-long journey, The Lord eases it by His grace.

“…the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace.” Luke 1:78(b)-79

Though His luminosity exposes our innermost insecurities, instead of condemning us as the world does, The Lord uses His light to illuminate the road of healing for us to walk through, in order to achieve perfect peace with who we are. By exposing our insecurities to our Creator, we learn to humble ourselves in His presence and confess that though we do not posses the power to rid ourselves of our demons, He, the Alpha and Omega, surely does.

“The sick one who is acquainted with his sickness is easily to be cured; and he who confesses that he is in pain is near to health. Many are the pains of the hard heart; and when the sick one resists the physician, his torments will be augmented.”

– St. Isaac the Syrian

Truth rooted in The Word affirms who I am in Christ, rather than who I am not in the world. I begin to comprehend the intensity of The Father’s love for me; how He created my inmost being and knit me together in my mother’s womb (Ps 139:13). Trivial validations for masculinity or femininity from others in our worlds pale in comparison to a God-rooted self-confidence in our identities in Christ.

Embracing my identity in Christ and consequently my masculinity, however it manifests itself in my world, liberates me from trying to box what manhood means according to other people, in their worlds.

Embracing The Spectrum:

The healing process is radical. It not only frees you of your chains, but opens your eyes to your fellow man’s needs so that you are moved to minister to those you once deemed unworthy.

I spent my adolescent years wrongfully believing that the boys who had made me feel isolated growing up, were unworthy; of my friendship, my time, or even my concern. “They had had it easy”. They fit “the norm”, so any struggle they encountered I deemed insignificant compared to mine.

Once healing began, The Holy Spirit gave me a crash course on statistics to open my eyes as to how the Body of Christ functions. If you’re not familiar with the term ‘normal distribution’, it is a function that represents the distribution of many random variables. It’s normally represented in a ‘bell curve’, as shown in the diagram below;

I won’t bore you with the stats talk, trust me – I hated maths at school, but this perfectly illustrates the point that I want to make. (If you’re a maths genius, please bare with me as I butcher this concept). In this diagram, you can see that most variables fall in the centre at 34.1%, and as you move to either sides of the curve, the percentage decreases. The data is representing the distribution of the same variables; the majority is at the centre, but there are still plenty that don’t fall in the dark blue region.

Once I realised that though I may not fall in the “34.1%”, with the majority of men, in Christ I am still represented in the bell curve of masculinity, such a heavy weight was lifted. I belonged. I’m here. I’m here. I remember that season of discovery vividly – how the Holy Spirit used it to re-instill so much lost confidence in my soul,  even convicting and burdening me for my fellow brothers, whether in the 34.1% or in the 0.1% bracket, now that I had realised that we are one Body. “For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts…” Romans 12:4-6(a).We the Church, embrace the undeniable spectrum of personalities existing within humanity as it is created in God’s image and likeness, for “Christ is all, and is in all.” Colossians 3:11(b). In the Lord, the gentle man and the resilient woman, the expressive male and the reserved female, the stay-at-home father and the working mother alike, hold a significant role in the Body of Christ. A role that only the 0.1% on the bell curve can fulfill; a calling though not understood by the world, is fully known and anointed by The Father.

Every member of the Body becomes a spirit reflecting a trait of his/ her Creator in your eyes, when you choose to embrace the normal distribution that exists within your own sex and the opposite sex. This liberating truth opened the door to the brotherhood I had longed for all along; pure, unfiltered, edifying, long-lasting friendships with other men. Brotherhood that challenges me when I am falling short, comforts me when I am miserable, corrects me when I am backsliding, and prays for me when I am broken. By the grace of God, I now have brothers whose souls are knit to mine, and though we may fall at different points on the spectrum, “a friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity” Proverbs 17:17. 

“I want you to know that the love that is between me and you is no bodily love, but a spiritual love. For bodily friendship has no firmness or stability, being moved by strange winds.”

– St. Anthony

‘David & Jonathan’ by Joanne Rozeik

If you have walked a similar road to me, I pray for your healing. I pray that your rooted identity in the Lord would nourish your self-confidence; that the chains of self-doubt and low self esteem would break free today. I pray that you would accept the radical truth that you are called to serve and minister to those very same people that make you feel unqualified. “The man from whom the demons had gone out begged to go with him, but Jesus sent him away, saying, “Return home and tell how much God has done for you.” So the man went away and told all over town how much Jesus had done for him.” Luke 8:38-39.

If you fall in the 34.1%, I pray for your healing also. For we are one Body, and if one brother or sister is hurting, then you are hurting also. I pray that the Lord would use you to embrace His children at all ends of the beautiful spectrum that humanity has been created into. I pray that you are a voice for those that have yet to discover theirs.

“Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, to Him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.” Ephesians 3:20-21

“And Adam called his wife’s name Eve, because she was the mother of all living.” Genesis 2:20

Eve; Life-giver (Strong’s concordance)

I recently started my women’s health placement and I can’t quite articulate how amazing it is to see women becoming ‘Eves’, becoming life givers, but I am beginning to understand that it means so much more than just labour, blood and tears (mostly my own).

The LORD God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.” Genesis 2:18

I have heard so many women wince at this verse, in misunderstanding we have withered womanhood, we have forgotten our calling. The hebrew  ‘Ezer Kenegdo’ – bluntly translated ‘a suitable helper’…but more accurately, the Hebrew word Ezer is translated as a combination of two roots: `-z-r, meaning “to rescue, to save,” and g-z-r, meaning “to be strong.” Eve was not only called a life giver but a life saver.

I have not found this life saving strength in the secularism of ‘having it all’. Womanhood isn’t about walking the tight rope of contradictions; not too fat, but not too skinny, not too loud but not too quite, driven, but not too much. It’s easy to get confused when we are bombarded with messages telling us that we are too much and yet not enough. Above and beyond all this, I see strength when I think about the selfless pangs and pushing of labour. Strength, when I think about how perhaps womanhood is the bridge where pain and love meet.

One of my favorite Sunday’s of lent was just a few weeks ago – the Samaritan woman*, once a temptress of hearts but through the words of our Savior she became so much more. Jesus spoke to her and said; “but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (John 4:14).

Through His water, we too can become a fountain to quench the thirst we see around us.

It is no coincidence that we were created from a rib, close to the heart, enclosing it with unbreakable strength. Holding together the lungs that give the breath of life.

Woman;

An encourager of the hearts of men who have had their dreams stifled by the laughs of other men

A gentle hand to hold the fragments of men shattered by the cruel words of women

A compassionate embrace to those who are wounded in heart and spirit

A breath of air into the lungs of those who been winded with discouragement and despair

That’s who women are called to be.

“We are women, and my plea is let me be a woman, holy through and through, asking for nothing but what God wants to give me, receiving with both hands and with all my heart whatever that is.”

– Elizabeth Elliot

“To me, a lady … is gentle, she is gracious, she is godly and she is giving. You and I have the gift of femininity… the more womanly we are, the more manly men will be and the more God is glorified. Be women, be only women, be real women in obedience to God.”

– Elizabeth Elliot

“Women opened the windows of my eyes and the doors of my spirit.”
Kahlil Gibran

*http://www.antiochian.org/st-photini-samaritan-woman

I liked it so much, I kissed many. I never believed in considering future consequences, only the here and now, only in the moment where my body lusted and craved another.

I believed in hedonism.

I was a lover of a sugar-coated world, biting deep enough to reach the salt beneath; left parched and bereft. But when invited to dine with the Divine, I counted up the cost and I conceded that He was worth it all. Because when you see the light, darkness doesn’t stand a chance. When you see the light, you cannot deny its existence.

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, upon them a light has shined.”
Isaiah 9:2

We tend towards hiding our not-so-pure stories, locking them deep into caskets that no one may see or hear. We profess forgiveness like we do breathing, yet shame whispers “tell no one” and we trust its every word. In a community amongst those who testify to the living Word, Who is pure and holy, Who calls us to be as He is, we feel there is no room for our stories of grace. We see the awe in people’s eyes as they intently listen to testimony after testimony, whilst observing how the same story-tellers are not trusted, always on trial. So we sit in silence, hear stories like ours being called a disgrace, bite our tongues as people express the need to marry only a “pure” spouse.

Yet, forgiveness does not beckon silence. And grace does not hide away our past sins. Rather it holds each thorn up to the light and transforms them into pure white lilies, with each petal holding a unique story, not to be forgotten, lest the power of grace be forgotten.

There’s a woman whose story I know well. Or perhaps, it is she that knows mine. A nameless woman, yet not a faceless one, for I have seen her face countless times when I’ve looked in the mirror. The courageous woman on the sixth hour of Wednesday eve.

She can see the Man she came for. She had heard that Christ had come to the house of the Pharisee. It was not too late to turn around, forget it all, save looking foolish, call it a moment of insanity. Yet, despite any doubt, she feels her feet carry her forward. Ardent, panting and perspiring, she makes her way to the large inner chamber of the banquet weaving through all the people. She does not dare look up. She can feel the heat of their burning disproval on the back of her neck. She hears the steady hum of conversation dwindle to hushed tones of disgust and scandal as they recognise her. People are moving a safe distance away from her. She pays them no mind, her eyes locked on this one Man. She had boldly chased after many men, but none like this. The room is silent now as they realise Who she came for. Does she really have the audacity to come before this righteous Man who claims to be God?

She walks forward, with one thing in mind. Sharp inhale. She stops right in front of him. Without lifting her eyes from the ground, she quietly and slowly kneels and lets down her hair. Memories flash before her of all those nights she used her hair as a snare to seduce, remembering all those fingers that ran wild and passionately through them. Her vision blurs as her eyes pour. Thick, heavy droplets of regret fall to His feet. She remembers the words spoken to her, how it was always her eyes that drew them in and held them captive, possessing their own alluring power. The eyes that stained her life with sin, now moistened His feet.

She stammers. With no words to say she does the only thing she could; she washes His feet. She takes her trembling hands, the same vessels that fed the pleasures of men, cups His feet and holds the thick strands of her locks to wipe them. She wonders if she has crossed a line, but He does not stop her or move away. She was accustomed to desiring men, but never desiring their forgiveness.

She takes her lips, lips that eagerly sought and caressed bare flesh, and kisses His feet. The room breaks out in shock; horror and objections ring loud in the room. An exchange of mutterings, naming her immoral, worthless and irreverent. She feels Him staring at her but she feels no fear and no shame. The others see Him staring at her, in a way they haven’t seen Him stare before. His eyes glisten, there is warmth. She knows how it feels to be stared at by a man, a ravaging stare full of fervent desire, but this was not the same. She feels Him look right through her. She is known, for the first time.

She pulls out her alabaster flask, her costly jar of sensual pleasure used to arose her lovers. The memories race, the images flash. She forcefully pushes them away as she breaks the alabaster flask. Her tears mingle with perfume and she continues to wipe with her hair. She kisses and pours; impure lips become holy. The beautiful fragrance rises. He does not speak but she feels His radiating, pure love. She feels something unexplainable she has never known before. Is this acceptance? Is this what it means to belong? She lifts up her head, looks Him in the eye, and she knows; nothing will ever be the same.

Luke 7 has its ending, but I’ve always wondered what happens next. I think of her departure to her normal life after being told that she was forgiven and loved. I think of how she must have replayed that moment over and over again in her head, how she must have wanted to tell everyone, scream and dance because of how light she felt and how her heart must have burst with joy. That cherished moment she shared with Her Saviour will forever be theirs. I also think of the men who must have knocked on her door that night. All those men that kept knocking because they never believed that she could change. I think of years of learnt behaviour that was like second nature and all she saw from her former life when she closed her eyes to pray. I think of her walking back into her bedroom, those four walls that contained all her unchaste amorous nights, and trying to pray. To rise in the place that she fell.

For, redemption is no passive, tidy ideology. Redemption is real and redemption is messy, it is as messy as sweat and a bloody cross. And it is on that same cross that the proclamation was made, “Tetelestai,” confirming the end, it is finished, it is done. No need to walk with head hanging low, shame raised high, but walk joyously in the light. The light that beckons every soul; those who have given in to every single fleshly desire and all those who haven’t. Because the Light does not differentiate, it infiltrates every darkness; and darkness has no measure. It is that same Light that looks upon us with the eyes of compassion and gives us the assurance that,

“There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit.”
Romans 8:1

Our belief in this truth is dependent solely on ourselves and not in other peoples responses to our former life, our own thoughts or the enemies lies. Our remembrance of our sexual sin can be crippling. We may be crippled by the way we once behaved; disregarding the holy in ourselves and in others. We may be crippled by the fear of falling back into old ways, and the fear of being too marred in the eyes of another. The taste of sexual pleasure is not an easy one to forget, and we may fear our longing for that same gratification. We may be haunted by the words spoken once on dark nights, or the daily glances that remind us of the power we possess. It is a life-long battle to fight, whilst holding tight to the truth that there is now no condemnation, and expectantly praying, “According to your good will, O God fill our hearts with your peace. Cleanse us from all blemish, all guile, all hypocrisy, all malice and the remembrance of evil entailing death” (The Liturgy According to St Basil the Great).

And as we pray this, may we approach the Eucharist, His own flesh and blood, just as the woman approached Him, offering every piece of herself at His feet, broken like the alabaster jar. She recognised Him not as an ordinary man but as her Saviour, yet we often approach Him as mere bread and wine, blind to the Majesty that pours Himself out before us. Let us walk repentantly, with fear and trembling, towards the Holy One and partake of the exchange of life that He offers, no matter what sin we laid with the night before, knowing that His love grants us the audacity to approach Him with confidence and being rooted in His Life, the mystical power to flee all other lovers.

So I will not be afraid to speak of my past sin, the desire of sin on skin, the Edenic memory of Adam and Eve’s freedom in expression and pleasure corrupted and abused. Because, this I know, forgiveness and freedom is mine, and though I am a woman of unclean lips, as my lips touch His feet, there is redemption’s tale to tell.

Let the fragrance rise.

Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a live coal which he had taken with the tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth with it, and said:
“Behold, this has touched your lips; Your iniquity is taken away, And your sin purged.”
Isaiah 6:6-7

This body
My body
A swift sword
A time bomb
Ticking
Cutting

This soft skin that curves around me
That frames and encompasses me
I have seen its unsurpassed powers
I have tasted its intoxication
Eyes wide open
To its irresistible magic

Hard to forget
Its delicious sweet nectar
Dripping subtle, potent poison
This body
Is not a body
But a weapon

Of charm and deceit
Of self seeking ambition
I waste in admiration and affirmation
I glory in attention and adoration
I am a queen
Fluent in Sensuality’s language

The power euphoric
The formula, tried and tested
A gaze and a flutter of the eyes
The control to summon and cast away
The siren song that calls your name
To shipwreck on the stones

And I howl
“Come, I will take away your pain”
To those that pant for it gladly
Like a dark mist
Leaving corpses rotten and defiled
Asphyxiating all breath, all life

So I numbed all feeling
Revelled in my conquer and rule
Sank my feet in my reckless storm
This body
Is just a body
Empty, hollow and cold

The more it consumes
The more it seeks to devour
This body is flames
A trail of dust in its wake
Nothing it touches will escape
Nothing is left standing

Least of all myself
This body is foreign
I do not want it
So I hide and cover it
Who can free me
From this body of death?

A stranger in this body of death
Dismembered from my lifeless soul
I feel my body’s betrayal
Under a man’s unrelenting gaze
I feel the poison flood my veins again
When their heads turn

I am reminded of the queen I could be
The thrill of control
I feel the rumbling and the stirring
Threatening to take over
Seduction is awakening
She is hungry from her slumber

But I will deprive her
Lay her down in silent, painful death
Bind her in burial cloths and dig a grave
Roll a boulder in front of the entrance
Scream TETELESTAI
For indeed, it is finished

Because I am not poison, I am not sword
And I wait on a promise like a thread
Keeping me from fraying at the edges
Of the God who calls out to dry bones
Giving life to sinew after sinew
The God who never fails those who wait

The God who wore humanity’s chains
To shatter our every chain
The God who rolls heavy stones away from tombs
And raises from the dead
The God who puts heavy stones down out of your hand
And says, “Live loved”

In truth, I believe that in Him
All the old has passed away
In the Spirt
I am finally liberated
The Veil torn
My face unveiled

He steps into my tomb
And when I look Him in the eyes
I see myself
He tells me who I am
Not thorn but Lily
He tells me Rise and live

I believe, help my unbelief.

Co-written with Sandra.

These words are for the women who are too afraid to speak out; you are not alone.

Silence is deadly. To let silence speak, is to let our souls fester. And festering souls are no resting place for the Presence of Him who is holy.

As women we oft evade His presence, fleeing the present moment. Our minds are wanderers into the future, intricately creating fantasy after fantasy, convincing ourselves that it is acceptable. We tell ourselves that our thoughts dishonor no man, and a thought is not sinful unless it leaves the confines of our mind and enters into reality.

Even the essence of our thoughts don’t seem to be always sinful, since they are not always sexual.

For hours we can ponder a life with that friend or stranger, how beautiful our babies could be and how good a lover he is bound to be. Within a minute, we are world-heroes, world-travellers and we have dated 5 different men.

In the words of Natasha Bedingfield,

“Trust me it would scare you
if you knew what was goin’ on in my brain
Trust me it would scare you
that I’ve picked out the church all the schools all the names…”

A day in a woman’s brain, would, most definitely, scare you.

St Isaac the Syrian said that it is a “greater miracle that a man can see his true self than the raising of the dead.” There is no light in our silence, there is light only in our truth. Our every attempt of denial, and our refusal to name our fantasies – lust – is to neglect truth. And the truth is, lust does not only take form in sexual fantasy.

As creatures of pleasure, lust is rooted in the thrill, of not only what may be forbidden, but what is not ours. Lust is not to be tamed, negotiated or bargained with; our minds and desires constantly rush ahead, racing to the next thought even as the current one is being consummated – all in pursuit of pleasure’s elusive satisfaction. A thought never remains as a single thought. It is an ever increasing drive for an ever diminishing pleasure. Lust will always keep you longer than you intended, drag you further than you anticipated and take more than you were willing to give. It plays for keeps.

Lust is the hours spent inside our own minds in uncontrollable imagination over any desire.

Lust is the fantasies we create to appease our emotional comfort, whether from the opposite sex or the same sex; even if our fantasies do not involve physical intimacy. Like the fantasy of a man stopping us from boarding a plane at the last minute to declare His undying love with roses, a box of love letters he’s been secretly writing for years and a song he wrote and composed just for us. But to live in a daydream is to live in a spirit of discontentment. As harmless as it may seem, we set ourselves up for unrealistic expectations that no man can measure up to and we waste the chance of taking moments seeking the God of all comforts in this dry, parched land.

Lust is an escape, a mechanism to cope with the realities where we feel stressed, inadequate, undesirable, bored or rejected; we turn to fantasy instead of seeking adventure and relief for our burdens in the only One who can promise pleasures forevermore.

Lust is a lack of trust that God is always good and we are always loved. It is the Isrealties, longing for the food in Egypt where they were slaves instead of having faith that the manna is enough and it could abound in sustaining their every need. It is determining that you know better, and this manna is not the best, so you take matters in to your own hands.

Lust is the time spent thinking of the ways you desire to be sexually intimate with a man; it is intimacy’s empty well, leaving you perpetually hungry for much more. It is the devil’s deceitful whispers that this is the God who deprives, demands impossible things and who takes away everything. Yet we must “consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls” for “unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain.” Lust plunders and ravages our life, yet Lust has never forgiven us; it never took nails in its wrists. So while Christ may ask of us our lives, He sacrificed His first. What is surrendered to Him is never lost.

Lust takes the form of gluttony; it is the continual greed for excess and in this world of excess, I am the king. Centered on what I have set my heart on, what I feel I deserve or what I believe I am entitled to; I neglect to cast my anchor down to the faithfulness of my Living Hope and re-center on Him, the true King. Though we exchange ourselves for God, He exchanged Himself for us, for our freedom from death.

Our lustful thoughts come so naturally, that to fight them strikes against our very comfort. The mind is a fierce battle ground and we are besieged. Lustful thoughts are a never-ending attack but in our control is the decision to fight. And this fight cannot be of our own strength, but through the strength and grace of Christ.

Resolved to stand firm, we must not numb the pain for “we have not yet resisted to bloodshed, striving against sin”(Hebrews12:4). Paul instructs us to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17), for a mind that ruminates and fixates on its own desires and pleasures in fantasy, is a mind that ceases to pray.

“Why do demons wish to excite in us gluttony, fornication, greed, anger, rancour and other passions? So that the mind, under their weight, should be unable to pray as it ought; for when the passions of our irrational part begin to act, they prevent the mind from acting rationally.”
– St. Nilus of Sinai

Paul exhorts us to “take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5), so however captivating the fantasy let us capture it in the net of His grace and “whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things”(Philippians 4:8).

So I must test my thoughts, assess each one, to find that which is true, noble, just, pure, lovely, of good report, of virtue and praiseworthy. But I know those thoughts are often few, and the reality is, pleasure drives my mind. As the disciples slept in Gethsemane, Jesus spoke to them,

“Watch and pray, lest you enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”
Matthew 26:41

Our spirits are willing, but our fleshy selves are weak, insatiable beggars. If a mind is not in prayer, it can reach anywhere, jump half-way across the world in pursuit of its favourite damp and musky prison cell of sin. “Watch,” He says; to be vigilant over the workings of our minds and the thoughts that walk through them. Watch, here and now because Christ’s presence is in the present. How will we respond to the knowledge of soul-festering thoughts? Will we let lust take home in our inner crevices? Will we expose those thoughts to the light and let prayer be our saving fortress?

Thoughts creep in more swiftly than they creep out. It is not with gentleness that they can be eradicated “for the kingdom of heaven suffers violence and the violent take it by force,” but with consistent vigilance and prayer. We need hearts ready for the fight, confessing a festering-soul state and a need for One who is merciful. Many who have gone before us prayed incessantly,

“Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy upon me a sinner.”

Humility is a realisation that we need to call upon the name of Jesus as often as we breath. Prayer builds the walls of Jerusalem in our hearts and minds and cements them until the stones cry out for our Saviour. Our minds cannot run empty, there is no moment where we are completely thoughtless, so this prayer recited habitually becomes grafted in our minds, replacing our lustful thoughts. We do not deprive but substitute. Because, every moment I live, I live bowed to something. And if I do not bow to God, I’ll bow down before something else. A prayer of the heart ushers us into reality. A reality where I must meet and accept who I am at this present moment. In a place where we can say with St Paul, “by the grace of God I am what I am.” A reality that has the stillness of heart to listen to His fantasies for me, and not my own. “As for God, his way is perfect: The Lord’s word is flawless; he shields all who take refuge in him.” Psalm 18:30

To pray unceasingly is to be in Christ. It is a sign of death of the flesh, a death to my will and a release of His Spirit in me.

In Him, I am white as snow, even if I stumble 7 times a day (or every minute.) If I cling to remember God’s mercy and this truth, that I am clean then I will be ever more cautious. For the clean can not tolerate a blemish. But if I let the accuser tell me I am the sum of my unrestrained thoughts, then I will become lazy, apathetic and slacken my efforts, for what is one more speck of dirt smeared on a canvas of black? Yet, you and I, we are canvases of lily white, washed in the blood of the Lamb, for He has “swept away your transgressions like a cloud, and your sins like a mist. Return to Me, for I have redeemed you” (Isaiah 44:22).

“Return,” He pleads. Must He wait much longer? Must I leave Him pleading? I thirst for lust, yet He thirsts for me.

There is hope. We are not alone, for He has not left us alone. Our eternal Rock; He is our motivation to be pure as He is, and our grace when we fall. 
So when my hand slips out of His, a thought wastes in me hours and I depart from prayer; I will take the hand of grace and rise again. I will take His hand though my hands are dirty, my wounds still bleed, my heart still fears and the shackles lying on the ground do not look as bad as they once were.

We cannot lie to ourselves and the world any longer; lust is not just every man’s battle, it is also every woman’s battle.

I will choose truth over silence.

May His love that is better than life satisfy our deep hearts.
May it purge away all lesser loves as fire to the dross.
May His presence be our joy, treasure and delight.
May you face the truth of your own darkness and call sin out for what it is.
May we fight for our purity together as we learn to be seized by a greater Affection,

In the Light…

Co-written with Sandra and Monica.

“you carry your snare everywhere and spread your nets in all places. You allege that you never invite others to sin. You did not indeed by your words, but you have done so by our dress and your department… When you have made another sin in his heart how can you be innocent? Tell me, whom does the world condemn? Whom do judges punish? Those who drink the poison or those who administer the fatal portion? You have prepared the abominable cup, you have given the death dealing drink, and you are more criminal than those who poison the body; you murder not the body but the soul. And it is not to enemies you do this nor are you urged on by any imaginary necessity, nor provoked by injury, but of foolish vanity and pride.”
St John Chrysostom

Distressed by this perilous power, possessed by us, the carriers of the XX chromosome. A strategic power we oft deny, secretly delighting in its effects.

Because the truth is, we notice a man’s affection, we notice when we are the object of any mans attention. We are not blind, hard-hearted machines that are immune to any form of charm or attraction. A sweet-talking man is a sweet-talking man, as Antarctica summer’s are cold.

And this power I observe upon the consumption of attention and words of affirmation. This power that devours the lustful thoughts of man, intertwined with my deep longing to be the object of man’s affection. This power, a sexual upper hand, knowing that a move in this direction, or a certain look, will hold him captive; reeling the subject around my finger. A power all too often used to seduce and manipulate.

Because no matter where you look, there it is, leaving an undeniable impression; the sultry expression on youthful faces, the come-get-me eyes, the flirtatious words and the promiscuous dress code.

And don’t we all desire to be found appealing? At the surface it is the perfect “subtle” manner to receive that mans’ attention, but at its core, it is the thirst for the alluring power of control.

Though this power be strong, it is hollow, obliterating Truth, and holds the captivators captive.

We only ever hear of men, how supposedly, men hurt, cheat and lie. How men are lustful beings, unable to control their desires. But oft I find that it is we, we who possess this XX chromosome, who are unable to control; we are the merciless perpetrators, with men as our prey.

Because with this power comes control, the control of having him at my feet.

So I take mine to Him. I open His word and as a mirror I see a portrait of my flaunting and enticing behaviour.

She “captures him with her eyelashes, luring him with just a look”

Proverbs 6:25

The words tug and snag and I pull. She is I. I read on and the picture comes into focus and sharpens.

“And behold, a woman comes to meet him, dressed as a harlot and cunning of heart. She is boisterous and rebellious, her feet do not remain at home; She is now in the streets, now in the squares, and lurks by every corner. So she seizes him and kisses him and with a brazen face she (speaks) to him . . .”

Proverbs 7:10-13.

What will be the grand result of my actions? Will I take the world by storm or will I be dashed to pieces on the rocks of deception?

“Do not let your heart turn aside to her ways, do not stray into her paths; For she has cast down many wounded, And all who were slain by her were strong men. Her house is the way to hell, Descending to the chambers of death.”
Proverbs 7:25-27

With power comes a choice. Under the influence of a woman, cities have crumbled (Joshua 2-6), and kings have caved (Mark 6).

When we travel to the start the truth is laid bare.

“The man called his wife’s name Eve [life giver], because she would be the mother of all the living.”

Genesis 3:20

A woman was created not by accident or chance but with purpose: born to be a helper. A name, an identity, a declaration is given. To be an echo of Christ instead of echoing the world. To encourage and uplift men like many women have done before us.

Feminine beauty was never about radiating sensuality but radiating an aroma of the stunning beauty of Christ, a breath of fresh air…of life.

“So then let us pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding.”

Romans 14:19.

Nancy Leigh DeMoss says, “If our hearts are right with God—if we’re walking in purity and humility before Him—the fruit will be a modest external appearance.”

With great power, comes great responsibility. We can reach out to others, spread truth, and encourage the lives around us. This means we have great power. And along with that great power, we are also given the great responsibility to use it wisely.

May we never allow our outward beauty to diminish the beauty He is weaving within our soul.

May we run with hoarse throats, exhausted lungs, and full hearts proclaiming the glorious loveliness of Jesus Christ and not with banners of our own loveliness.

So draw if we must, but let us draw others shamelessly to Beauty Himself.

“How beautiful are the arms, which have embraced Christ-the eyes which have gazed upon Christ, the lips which have spoken with Christ, the feet which have followed Christ. How beautiful are the hands which have worked the works of Christ, the feet which are treading in His footsteps have gone about doing good, the lips which have spread abroad His Name, the lives which have been counted for Him.”
Christina Rosetti

Co-written with Sandra.

We’re bombarded with: be adventurous and brave. Incessantly reminded that to be a woman is to also be beautiful but more importantly “hot.” Because we’re told (do we even question it?) what we want is a man’s attention and the only way we can get attention from a man is to wear a little less and give a little more. We’re demanded: be ambitious, independent and driven. Be this. Be that. More of this, less of that.”Wear these labels like a jewelled crown and hold your head high”, the voices command “and let them be your glory.” Let’s not forget the beautiful Birkins and Louboutins we’re told we should own, the charming and witty personality we’ll be admired for and the bursting social calendar we must also boast. The more I think of it the more I realise this woman would probably be a Jessica Rabbit/Emma Watson/Jane Austen/Mulan hybrid.

Good luck with that…

The Lord has set eternity in our hearts. There’s a fierce quest, a ceaseless voyage we are all on to be remembered and adored. To leave some sort of mark. So here we are, finding ourselves trying on all these personas of different women. Trying so hard to make the dimensions fit. Trying so hard to attain this ‘aha, I’ve made it’ success that we’ve believed comes with being just like the list of characteristics and and traits we have heard preached like doctrine. It’s an exhausting and endless pursuit. It’s a false doctrine. And it’s a vain crown, with no glory. The crown gets heavy and tarnished and the jewels dull but we clench our fist, grit our teeth and say: ‘I just need to try harder.’ There’s always something to fix. Always that little bit more skinny, that little bit more clever and that little bit more like ‘her’ to strive to be. And trust me, I know things we desire are not necessarily wrong or evil in the right context.
But everytime we say ‘yes’ to something, we’re saying ‘no’ to something else. No one can travel down two roads, at the same time.

There’s a far more precious crown, with jewels that shine, that I fear is completely being forgotten as we run blindly to chase that perfect woman that always seems to be just out of our grasp.

A greater path that the world is shouting “no” to: holiness.

Who longs and cries for holiness? Where are the posters – where are the magazines about holy women? Can anyone tell me who cares anymore about holy women? Will we do what it takes to be holy women, the way we’ve wanted to do whatever it takes to for strangers to hear our names as great, important women? We admire the beautiful and “sexy” and want to be like them. We hear stories of the strong and wild women that can’t be tamed. These are the ones who will leave a mark we’re convinced. These are the women that are held up in front of us as the ones who have it all and if we can just improve ourselves, if we can just change ourselves to look just like that and act just like that, we finally won’t be disappointing to ourselves anymore.
But there’s another path. It is less travelled and it seems forgotten. But it’s this path that makes all the difference.
It’s the path of His commands. It’s the path that set our hearts free.

Have you ever asked yourself what is ‘holiness’? What does it mean to be a woman of God?

No matter how much you know that magazines, movies and music are fiction; watch people behave like life revolves around male-attention to bring pleasure, hear men sing about how sexy their girl is or read ‘How to Make Sex Into An Olympic Sport’ (yes, this was an actual headline on the cover of a Cosmopolitan) enough times and you will get affected.

Let’s take a moment to acknowledge that sin was attractive and looked pleasant to the eye back in the garden and it still does now – so we must be guarded, watchful and vigilant of the avenues we let in. Sometimes we put limits around how far we let these things go in our life. We make sure we are a step or two ahead of our peers when it came to morality, but that doesn’t keep us from being steeped in compromise. The lie is good and easy to believe.

Rather than taking cues from reality TV show stars and magazines that flaunt self-absorbed women who sleep with the man who pays them the most attention simply because it feels good, and everyone is doing it; fill your mind and eyes with examples of holy women. Trade the cheap counterfeits that society dangles for the fathers and saints (their stories are drama-filled too, just check out St Mary of Egypt!). Meditate on their lives and their virtues. Observe closely and grow in fellowship with other women (especially the older ones – their wisdom is gold!) that are travelling the same narrow road as you. I feel that it’s my friends that give me the wings that allow me to be carried into the Father’s arms: through their honest example, earnestness to please God, their gentle rebukes.

“Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of life.” Phillipians 2:15-16

But though I read gratitude, I sense discontentment. Though joy is spoken of, I feel the bitter sting beneath the words. Single Christian women or frustrated Christian women? Does a difference even exist, or are these states of being synonymous?

To read but a few, one thing rings loud; justification. Justification, everywhere. But whoever said singleness demanded justification? Must we find reason for the gifts bestowed upon us by the Giver? Will we question that which He has given us as if He robbed us of every good thing?

Too many of us walk around with a mask of contentment, a mask of declaration that “I’m single because I am satisfied with God.” And while our hearts ring with sincerity, frustration takes us captive, as within us we also desire to be known and deeply loved by a man. While our lips say “I kissed dating good-bye” our hearts say “I’m dying to date.” As we utter “I’m using my singleness to serve God,” inside we burn of “I can’t wait for this season to be over so I can be with someone.”

And as your mind takes in these words of mine, you eagerly expect correction, a rebuke of this way of life. But, beloved sister, this is not another singles blog. This is not another façade of singleness.

The truth is many of us are single. At the same time, many of us desire to be married one day. And at the same time, many of us desire to live a godly life serving our Maker.

But deep within our Christian books and Christian communities, a serpent sneaked in and caused this deception. This deception that in our singleness we should be entirely satisfied and that if we feel a longing for a man, there’s something terribly wrong with us because our entire fulfillment should be in God.

It is this that I am compelled to rectify.

Whoever said being a godly woman meant denying our girlish notions and excitement of being loved? Because the God I serve, His very essence is love. So that which I long for most is His love. Yet this does not reprimand my longing for a man’s love.

It was not good for Adam to be alone. But surely, Adam had it all? Did he not walk with God and have the purest most intimate relationship with Him? So the question that stirs within me is, “Why was God not enough for Adam? Why was it not good for Adam to be alone?”

Now it cannot be assumed that Adam was not satisfied with God. Adam had no complaint; he did not request a companion. His pleasure was being in union with God, yet God said it was not good for him to be alone. And so Eve He formed, and declared that the making of male and female was very good.

God created Adam for community, just like He Himself is One but a community; Father, Spirit, Son. Alone, Adam was not said to have been created in His image:

“in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.”

Genesis 1:27

Thus, His image is displayed in the creation of both male and female. And so no matter how satisfied Adam was with God, this does not deter from the fact that He was created to be with a woman.

Often, guilt parades in our hearts for the feelings within us because, supposedly, godly women must only desire God. The fuel that feeds our guilt and queries are the abundance of Christian articles and books on such topics. We have the world pushing God out and emphasizing relationships, whilst Christians condemn our longings and demand only God, but inside of me comes this realization and I cry out, praying that every woman can breath this and live this and rejoice in this:

We can be satisfied with God in our singleness and long for relationship with a man. One does not contradict the other.

So, my beloved sister, yes you are single, and yes I see your joy in Him, but deny not those desires that root deep within you. You need not justify your singleness. You need not justify your longing to be listened to, held and loved by one man. You need not deny your love for cute love stories and your excitement at the prospect of your own God-orchestrated story. You are a woman, made from man, entitled to your own female thoughts, feelings and tendencies.

You are a woman.

Let yourself be one.

“Your wife shall be like a fruitful vine in the very heart of your house… thus shall the man be blessed who fears the Lord” (Psalm 128:3-4)

“An excellent wife is the crown of her husband.” (Proverbs 12:4)

“He who finds a wife finds a good thing, and obtains favor from the Lord” (Proverbs 18:22)

“Do we have no right to take along a believing wife, as do also the other apostles, the brothers of the Lord, and Cephas?” (1 Corinthians 9:5)

I pray that whoever You give me Lord would be like the following women in the Old Testament:

Eve – “Her desire is for me and I rule over her” (Genesis 3:16)

Sarah – “A woman of beautiful countenance” (Genesis 12:11) and full of wit and laughter (Genesis 21:6)

Rebekah – “Divinely appointed” (Genesis 24:15) and “very beautiful to behold, a virgin; no man had known her” (Genesis 24:16) and not afraid to get her hands dirty (Genesis 24:19)

Rachel – “Kisses powerfully enough to make you cry” (Genesis 29:11) and “beautiful of form and appearance” (Genesis 29:17) and worth “7-14 years of work” (Genesis 29:18)

Deborah + Jael – knows how to hold her own and is feisty (Judges 4-5)

Hannah – A woman who pours out her soul to the Lord, and believes He will look upon her (1 Samuel 1:15). A woman who praises and rejoices in her God with such passion and joy (1 Samuel 2:1-10)

Ruth – loyal and faithful to me and family (Ruth 1:16-17)

Bathsheba – desirable, knows how to take care of herself, and is very beautiful to behold (2 Samuel 11:2); comes from a good family (grand-daughter of Ahitophel and daughter of Eliam who was a member of The Thirty)

Abigail – “a woman of good understanding and beautiful appearance” (1 Samuel 25:3), patient (was married to Nabal), keeps me in check and knows how to talk me out of something I’ll regret (1 Samuel 25:33)

Esther – “young, lovely, and beautiful” (Esther 2:7,9), someone who pleases me so that I want to go above and beyond for her (Esther 2:9), a woman with Godly determination and faith in the face of horror (Esther 4:16)

Judith – “beautiful in stature (for me)”  and “lovely to look upon” (Judith 8:7) –“no one spoke ill of her, for she feared God and was devoted to Him” (Judith 8:8) and a woman who really knows how to pray [on the level of King David] (Judith 9)

Suzanna – “a very beautiful woman and one who feared the Lord… her parents were righteous and taught their daughter according to the Law of Moses” (Daniel 1:3)

Which my soul still seeks but I cannot find:
One man among a thousand I have found,
But a woman among all these I have not found.
(Ecclesiastes 7:28)

Lord, I want someone both incredibly beautiful and amazingly spiritual. I know many girls who are spiritual, but not physically appealing and others who are gorgeous on the outside but who don’t really motivate me to know You more. I want both, and I know You’re my Father and You want good things for me too. I don’t want to be drawn away by beauty, but You Yourself put that desire in my heart Lord. Lead me Lord. Lead us to each other and help me then lead our family to You.

It’s in Your hands Lord. I trust You.

Well here’s a thought: what if there really is no such thing as “falling in love?” Falling in love seems like an accident you were helpless to avoid. I don’t know about you but that somehow feels dangerous. Christ commanded that we should not be mastered by anything and I certainly don’t like the idea of being captive to some supernatural force. And there’s something off about crowning one of the most captivating, consuming and powerful experiences with nothing more than fickle emotions as changeable as seasons and notions of ‘missing them when they are gone.’ Doesn’t it all just seem terribly off with the mighty, unshakeable love portrayed in the Bible?

I believe that love is a choice and always a choice. The idea of falling in love is a dainty and romantic idea but one that falls miserably short of the true depth, height, and width of the glory and gore that is truly tasted on the battlefield of the unconditional, inseparable love of Christ we have been called to receive and give freely in return.

This love is inexorable.

It’s the love that gives grace away to the weakest places and undeserved forgiveness to the unforgivable. It is the love that identifies with the failure of the other and still chooses to lavish and sing love over them all the more. This love does not come by finding the perfect person but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly. It is love that is first patient so that it can be grateful for this person as God’s ‘masterpiece in progress’ because it sees them first as a redeemed child of King Jesus.

Don’t get me wrong, I believe in attraction and quirky similarities that knit affinity. I believe in sweet gestures that tie and bind. I believe in the best friend of lovers that do not have to say a word to speak to each other, that keep the other smiling even when they are not there and that do not just move each others feet to dance but move the soul, in the sun and in the rain. These are all ravishing, exquisite moments in the story. But love that is enduring, everlasting and fulfilling is the embers that stay glowing steadily long after the burst of passionate flame. And that love is always a choice.

Do you know why it has to be? Because this is how our master, the One whose very name is Love, demonstrated and defined love. And we know that the servant is no better than the master. We walk the same road to overflowing and abundant life.

“But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God’s own possession…”
1 Peter 2:9

God chose Israel not because of any merit of their own. Not because He fell in love with them because their wittiness, beauty or intelligence impressed Him. In fact, when He asked for obedience, they disobeyed. God gave them promises dependent on their willingness to do what He asked and they did not do it. But He did not give up on them. It is the glory of His name that was at stake and is also the glory of His name that is at stake now when we do not choose to love as He did. God entered into a covenant relationship with Israel and so He took the responsibility upon Himself and in countless ways He bore with them, corrected them, punished them, goaded them and brought them to the promised land.

God drew us out of loving-kindness and He chose us to bear His name. And He committed to being whatever we needed; a pillar of light, falling bread, calamities that struck to bring us back and a sacrifice to free us from death of our sins.

This is how we know what love looks like.

We love because He first loved us and it has to be our choice too because if we claim to know God but are not constructive and slow to lose patience but instead are possessive, anxious to impress with inflated ideas of our own ideas; pursuing selfish advantage; keeping account of evil or gloating over the wickedness of the other person then we are not born of God. And all those things are choices we have to make every moment of every day.

For God so loved the world, He gave and when you give of yourself, love happens. When Love became manifested He lived to die, He bent low and washed feet. You don’t always end up giving because you love. Sometimes you end up loving because you give.

Love is devoted, not because of the person, but despite them. Love empties to fill never asking “Am I being served?” but always seeking all the ways it could bless. Love is the choice that does not cease because ceasing to love would mean ceasing to exist. Love is not something we give with our eyes on ourselves but we love others as if we are soldiers of Christ; we love faithfully, fully and honestly. We love with no limits to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope. This love can outlast anything because our commitment is not to the other person but to God Himself who weighs the hearts. We are committed to Him to meet the expectations He has called us to as spouses, sons, daughters, fathers or mothers because this is the holy, blameless sacrifice we can offer to Christ. This is the love that is built on a rock. This, as St Paul says, is the one thing that stands when all else has fallen. It is love rooted in the One thing; in Christ above and before all. And a life contemplating the love of Christ becomes a life being the love of Christ, to the point where we must love in every situation or we deny ourselves and God who dwells in us.

“And whatsoever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men…”
Colosians 3:23

Passionately serving Christ alone, makes us loving servants to all; when the eyes of the heart focus on God and the hands on washing His feet alone. We must see all our relationships as a choice to serve God, to ask “How else can I serve you?”, to honor the things precious to God and in the process be transfigured and transformed more into Love Himself as we grow in obedience and die to our desires and instead pour out and bleed love. Soldiers of Christ bleed. Christ bled out and His blood washes, His blood saves; this gift received in communion gives us the strength to count each unmet expectation and hurt in our relationships as a gift. A gift, yes. It is the chance to learn to pray for instead of complain about, and to bear with instead of burden. Even in the pain we can now love and give thanks for the person because they have given us that one sliver of a chance, like the thief on the cross, to steal salvation and dance in fountains of grace as one more room in our heart yields to the potter’s moulding hands. The world and our nearest and dearest will know us by this love of Christ that can never love too much.

The selfless, servant-hearted love is not something you fall into. But a way you choose to walk. So don’t fall in love. Rise up and walk in love. Forgive me if I sound like your next jaded cynic for not believing in falling in love. I think you might find that it is quite the contrary, because this love is the most mystical, divine and enchanting of all. This is the love that sparkles with the very radiance of the heavenly romance of Christ and His beloved – us.

Greater love has no man than this indeed.

Now, I dont know about you, but something about that tugged a little at my heart. It sounds exciting. I want that. Its the kind of love we ‘oooh’ and ‘awww’ at when we hear about from our friends in relationships, the kind of love we dream about finding when ‘that’ song is played on the radio and the kind of love we watch in movies like ‘A Walk To Remember’ and let it touch us to the point of tears and that we can shout most of the lines with the actors at the screen from the amount of times we have watched it. They are our favourite movies after all!

Something about reckless abandon and love just fits. It clicks. It seems right, and it seems like we deserve it. And we just cant wait for it to show up and knock us off our feet. But why is it we call over our girlfriends for late night sleepovers that revolve around gushing and swooning about the lucky day that happens but when we apply those exact same sentiments, that same reckless abandon to God we struggle with that idea?

God is Dad, I obey Him. God is my Best friend, I’ll talk to him. But God is my lover, I’ll fall crazily-madly in love with Him and let him sweep me so off my feet that I can’t help talking about how sweet He is to all my friends and I cant help but let my heart break for what breaks His and I can’t help but only go where I can take Him with me because I like to hold His hand everywhere I go? No thank you.

Why is it we would all jump with joy if that man who caught our eye at church asked us out on a date for Valentine’s, but the idea of going to church with a rose to spend time sitting with our Creator seems pathetic and something to mock someone about? Why is it when one of our friends’ relationship goes official, tons of people like the photos they put up of themselves and comment about how cute and lucky they are but the idea of us posting a status about how much God has won our heart would make people want to click off the page as quickly as possible? Why is it our hearts sprint at a million beats per minute when that attractive man looks our way but when we open our Bibles and read His eternal promises, dripping with the unconditional love of His sacrifice, we find it difficult to not fall asleep? Why do we spend energy and time trying to find out the things the men we are interested in like and dislike (and coincidentally they start becoming the things we like or dislike!) but we’re more than happy to know the bare minimum of what Christ likes from us?

Isn’t it funny that it was all His idea anyway – this big old fairytale where we get fought for and rescued from our lonely misery to get lost on this epic adventure with the One who would die for us – but we refuse spending those desires on the One who created them and would rather spend them on that which He created? Isn’t it funny because in fact He’s actually the only One whose genuinely worth it, who genuinely deserves it.

Christ alone died for our hearts, Christ alone deserves our hearts. All of our hearts.

Have you ever thought that maybe it’s not too much of a bad idea to love Jesus with that much zeal and fervour the way we’d love our boyfriends or husbands one day, not being able to make it through an hour without thinking of them, always finding little ways to sneak in a little for time with them during your day. You see that’s how love was meant to work. It shouldn’t be any different because we are talking about God. If anything it should be more! His love is the most extravagant love, we’ll taste. Just think of the day you’ll see him face to face and you take that first look into the One whose eyes blaze with a jealous fire over you! But dont think of how you’ll feel, instead think of the happiness when He sees you (it’s that way in weddings – if we want to see joy, we look in the grooms face). If for the joy set before Him he endured the cross, can you imagine what will happen when he finally gets hold of that joy? When he finally grabs us and never lets go of our hands?

You are His joy. You are the life Christ died to save.

One day Jesus will gaze at us with satisfaction, and every bit of struggle, every bit of fighting I did to make Him my everything, my one and only True Love, every idol I refuse to flirt with, every time I refuse to exchange His role as my number one Comforter and Provider and Lover in my life for a man, every time I love him like crazy-all those times will be worth it. They won’t only be worth it, I’ll probably wish I’d have been more crazy for Him!