I mentioned earlier that I spent much of my summer in the refining fire, and that I’ve just recently started seeing the healing and freedom on the other side of that.
The hottest part of the fire, for me, was a few weeks during the summer when I wasn’t sleeping well. For whatever reason, God decided that the best time to speak to me was in the middle of the night (I suspect the reason was that it was the only time my mind was quiet enough for him to get a word in edgewise). If you know me, you know that I like to be asleep by 10:00 PM, so this was rather inconvenient for my schedule.
Between the lack of sleep and the turmoil of having my character refined, I was getting pretty tired. I remember waking up and watching the clock one night, completely unable to fall back asleep. After about an hour, I finally decided to get out my journal and write to God about how annoyed I was to be awake.
This is going to sound goofy, but here’s what happened: I started to write that if God were physically present there in my bed, I would just snuggle up and enjoy being close to him. However, as I began to write that, I realized it wasn’t true. Snuggling necessitates some level of closeness and confidence. I remember climbing into Mom or Dad’s lap when I was little, always completely confident that I would be accepted. There in my bed in the middle of the night, though, I wasn’t sure that God would accept me and my snuggles.
I’m pretty sure that “Jesus Loves Me” is one of the first songs I learned to sing, and I could quote you all kinds of Bible verses about God’s love. Of course I know that God loves me, but somehow I didn’t really KNOW that.
Remember when I was talking about pulling up weeds by the roots instead of just cutting off what’s sprouted above ground? Well, not being sure of God’s love for me was like the taproot of the issues I’d been working through (and that band apparently still exists, FYI).
You might recall that relational idolatry was what got me into the refining fire this time around. It suddenly made perfect sense as to why I would look to other people to find acceptance, comfort, affirmation, intimacy, etc. – something deep down in me didn’t trust that I could find those things in Jesus.
Realizing that was like finding out that I’d been walking around in shoes three sizes too small and somehow never noticed. My feet hurt, but I could never figure out why. Why on earth did I put those shoes on in the first place? Time to kick those suckers off!
It was high time to reject the lie that God would ever reject me.
This is what I prayed that night (Scripture references added for this blog):
Jesus, I reject that lie right now – the lie that says you would ever reject me in any way. You always welcome and accept me (John 6:37). You LOVE me tirelessly, and you desire and pursue me (Psalm 136, Song of Solomon 7:10, Luke 19:10). You are always inviting and alluring me, drawing me into the wilderness with you (Hosea 2:14). I can’t fathom how you delight in intimacy with me (Zephaniah 3:17), but I know it’s true. Break down any fears and insecurities that I have about the way you love and desire me, and about the way you’ve made me to be pursued. I want to accept your invitations, let you draw me after yourself. I want to follow you boldly and confidently (Hebrews 4:16), knowing that I am beautiful and flawless to you (Song of Solomon 4:7), that you want me and enjoy me. I want to find comfort and satisfaction in your all-encompassing love (Isaiah 58:11), to let you overwhelm me and melt my heart for you.
People say it so often that the phrase has almost lost its meaning, but I can’t tell you how important this one thing has become to me: God loves me. Even more than my parents, my sister, my closest friends, and my someday husband. God loves me more intensely than the deepest things I’ve ever felt. His face lights up when I smile. He treasures every moment we spend together.
If you get nothing else out of anything I ever write, get this: God loves you that way too.
