never getting over You.

I have found that I’ve been believing that here and now, in the space that I exist within,
that I was going to be shaped into something like perfect completeness.

I thought He’d make me better than I was
and when I was made into something most opposite of myself
(because myself before He remade me was sordid and unwanted)
then He’d finally be pleased with me.

I thought the Potter was going to shape me, carve holiness into me, glaze me, fire me,
and place me on a shelf - maybe I’d even have some kind of purpose.

All this time, I have wanted
perfection,
completion,
redemption,

salvation from all the broken pieces.

What if that’s not quite what it looks like in the end?

What if it’s not about my perfection?
Maybe my crazed porcelain skin isn’t made to be unbreakable;
but as long as I’m willing to let Him hold on to me, He won’t let anything break me.
As long as I’m resting in the place I belong, I’m safe.

What if it’s not about my completion?
Maybe the kiln isn’t the place I’ll be taken to in order to become something beautiful and steadfast and strong.
Everyone says you have to go through the fire for the refinement - that pressure creates diamonds - and I’m not saying I can’t bear a little pain for my spirit’s alinement,

but how good and also lovely is the unhurried rising of resting flour after it’s been kneaded by strong hands that are unyielding but not demanding - creating something of pleasure for an abundant feast.

What if my redemption looks more like
steady trusting in a Good Father during the dark nights of my soul?
I want to abandon all of me, constantly, because I feel I’ll be swallowed up by the brokenness around me - the past behind me,

but what does that say about the life He’s weaving for me?
What does that say about the parts of me that are made new
and the way I bring light to those broken places surrounding me?
And wouldn’t that be the picture of redemption
to take what the enemy meant for evil and despair

and instead, to bring unrestrained joy springing from a deep well to all who come near.

All this time, without realizing it the disappointment and wanting of more have been digging caverns in me, leaving an aching pain that’s finally grown sharp enough to waken me,

I thought salvation was synonymous with unmitigated perfection
and a flawless execution of every great and purposeful deed I could possibly carry out.

But what a long night this has made for my soul - stealing all my hope.

Had I only looked up and then stayed my eyes on Him, drinking in more than just fluttering glances that gave me butterflies but never gave me that band of gold.

Now I know - and He’ll keep showing me more;
I think my Salvation looks more like never getting over Him.

Salvation is my First Love holding me - a fire burning - and a restful place.

Salvation is a slow dance, where all the flecks of burning anger like hot blush are traded for soft intimacy and trust settled deep in my heart.

Salvation is a love that burns bright in the darkest night - reminding me of His strong hand and steady Spirit; when I feel damned and afraid, my Loving King, with gentle and attentive hands, brings me in closer.

He’s a Potter, yes, shaping me into something Good and meaningful -

but He’s also my Greatest Love -

someone who doesn’t need me to work or scheme or perform in order to see my purpose;

someone that I can lean back against and breathe, and feel His heart as it beats;

someone who leads and guides and waits and stays;

someone who isn’t so concerned with my completion and perfection as He is with my presence and connection.

He’s a Great Love that holds fast, locking eyes with me for eternity,

and I’ll never get over Him.