To say that I love John Mark McMillan is a huge understatement.
Whenever I want to really worship, I turn on one of his albums (all of which I own, one signed). I can recite the lyrics to every song he’s ever written and love to tell the story of the time I met him and stood there like a babbling idiot (and show the picture . . . multiple times). Whenever anyone sings “unforeseen” instead of “sloppy wet” or claims the “How He Loves” is a David Crowder Band song, I about come unglued (much to the embarrassment/frustration of those around me).
That being said, I’ve always kind of had a love/hate relationship with the song. While it brings my friends to tears or inspires them to tattoo lyrics on their wrists, and that is all fine and good. It has just never done that for me. I’ve always seen the song as one of the many typical songs done by youth groups and Christian conferences that loses meaning with repetition. It’s not so much about the lyrics as it is the hype around the song itself.
Maybe my outlook comes from how I don’t really grasp the real meaning of the lyrics myself.
Jesus would slap me with that one.
Yesterday, I skipped my 9:30 class (sorry, mom!) and went on a date with Jesus. I needed a change of pace and scenery, because being on campus is like a spiritual smog cloud for me. So I got in my car, made a detour at Starbucks for an iced soy chai, and went to the Bicentennial Gardens. The past week and a half have been filled with a bunch of just plain old crap, like Satan balling up every worry, insecurity, and struggle I have and throwing it at me with a malicious chuckle. The night before, I had one of the hardest conversations of my life and had to ask forgiveness from the one person I never thought I would hurt the way that I did.
I had messed up. . . horribly. But isn’t that why Jesus had come and died on the cross? Isn’t that exactly WHY I claim to have a relationship with Him? Grace? Forgiveness? Redemption?
I realized that I could preach it all backwards and forwards and as soon as someone would open up to me, that would be the first place I’d direct them. I’m well versed in all the fancy words and phrases, “You don’t have to own that!” “Have someone speak truth over you!” “Claim who you are in Him and walk in it!”
But honestly, I’m not sure I know how to do that myself.
So it was walking through that garden, dodging crazed geese and enjoying the morning sunshine, that I got real with God. I sat down on a bench, and I finally let go of control. I knew I needed grace, I needed love only He could give and I didn’t know how to receive it.
That was when good old John Mark shuffled onto my iPod, but not just any song. . . “How He Loves”. I’ve heard the song a thousand times and, like most young American Christians, can recite the lyrics in my sleep. Yet this time, the words carried a new sort of meaning. It was like all of the sudden, it just clicked.
“So we are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If grace is an ocean we’re all sinking
So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss and my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don’t have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way
That He loves us. . .”
If grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking. The ocean terrifies me. Why? Well, partially because I was stung by a jellyfish when I was 14, but it’s also because the ocean is freaking huge. It scares me to even go a few feet out, let alone think about being far enough to sink.
My mind can’t even begin to fathom the comparison of God’s grace being like the ocean. It takes up the majority of the planet and is impossible to escape. It’s not only huge, but it’s powerful.
If that is a comparison to God’s grace, I don’t know how I figure I can escape it, whether I deserve it or not.
I’ll never deserve God’s grace, but He gives it to me anyway. I may feel like I’m too far gone from it or it’s entirely out of reach, but that simply means I need to adjust the way I’m looking at things. It’s not a case of God withholding, it’s a case of me choosing not to receive. Sometimes the things that seem so hard about grace aren’t because God is asking something more of me; sometimes it’s about doing a heart check and readjusting my outlook. As simple as the concept may be, the fact that God loves me, He’s jealous for me, and His grace consumes my sin like the ocean is crazy mind blowing kind of stuff.
And it was standing in front of a little water fall in this garden on a Tuesday afternoon that these oh so familiar John Mark McMillan lyrics suddenly gained such a heavier, real meaning for me.
and with that, I leave you with this Hey Christian Girl meme which not one, but THREE friends sent me this week claiming it immediately reminded them of me. Perfection.
Sloppy wet, people. Sloppy. wet.
