i feel it when i rise,
when i stay,
even when i ache to run away.
this longing for perfection...the thread runs deep.
it pulls me along until feet fall from under me & i no longer control this longing but rather, it controls me.
i have this insatiable thirst for perfect love & in these moments—i am an archaeologist—digging & digging & only uncovering dry bones.
the dry bones tell me:
don't dream—your spirit will get crushed.
don't love—your heart will get broken.
don't search—you will turn up empty.
there’s dust under my fingernails,
dust on my heart,
dust in my eyes.
& all at once i remember...
i remember that from dust i was formed & to dust i will return.
i remember that i’m rummaging for Help in the soil under my feet,
when my Help does not live in that ground any longer.
no, my Help has risen.
i breathe out slowly, knowing I’m not alone in this.
i remember a story i once read about a couple men who are also searching. Jesus had just been crucified & buried & made it very clear He would rise from this ground in three days.
but the men, like me, forgot.
so they too looked in the ground.
another man said to them “why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.” (luke 24)
my desperate search for perfect love in things & people...i'm halfway there.
i am indeed looking for a person, but i’m looking in the exact place He is not…the dusty ground!
i rise & i take off this archaeologist outfit i never wanted to wear & i start to run free because my digging is over. i can stop looking down & start to look up.
...because perfect love is not below. perfect love is seated above. perfect love is written on the scarred hands of the Son who conquered death. for me & for you.
perfect love is the story of a Rescuer who blotted out all my mistakes i've made & will make. perfect love saw my imperfections & said "i will make all things new & good".
our Rescuer was perfect so that we can be free not to be.
what relief that this longing for perfection is natural.
natural & yet designed to be filled in one place & one place alone.
in the hands,
all of Him whispers of the holy & perfect affection i am feigning for.
today i remember.
but tomorrow i will forget again.
i will look to myself, my husband, my friends, family, & everything graspable in between. i will want them to offer me perfection even though i have nothing of the sort to offer them.
today in this Easter season i remember He is with me because he has risen
& in His rising,
i will rise.
i will give Him my heart & scars just like He gave me His own.