Fairy Tales, Love Stories...and Perfection.

Fairy tales. I'm not going to claim anything about my male readers (although I have my suspicions...), but if you're a girl, at least a small part of you loves them. Admit it. Beautiful dresses, handsome princes, and an assured happy ending. What could be better?

Fairy godmother comes, waves her wand, and Cinderella is perfect. Her hair is perfect. Her skin is perfect. Her weight is perfect. Her shoes are perfect. Her dress is perfect. Her dancing and singing are perfect. Everything about her is perfect. And then the prince sees her, and he can't help but fall for her. After all, she's perfect.

Every little girl dreams about the moment when someone will see her as perfect -not a single thing to be improved. It becomes one of our highest goals, even if we're not conscious of it. 

When we're very little girls, we truly believe that we're beautiful, perfect princesses, because our parents tell us so. We run around with our hair in messy pigtails, jam on our faces, in our mother's high heels, all the while believing that we're the most beautiful, gracious, elegant creatures to grace the earth. But then...things happen. Mistakes are made. Even just little things. And we realize...we aren't at all like those Disney princesses. That is, we're not perfect. And that means there must be something terribly wrong with us, because perfection is what we see (or think we see) around us. Why can't we measure up?  We're not pretty enough. We're not smart in the ways that everyone else says we should be smart. We weigh to much -or too little. Not enough makeup -or too much. And we also discover that the men around us are often not even a little like the prince in Cinderella. They don't cherish us as he cherished her. And it must be our fault, because we're not perfect. 

And so we girls strive, every moment of every day, to be what our society calls 'perfect'. We wear the right clothes, and listen to the right music, and try, and try, and try...

And never make it.

This  is the devastating fact in many lives. And it was the truth in mine for many years -thirteen, to be exact. It ruined me. But then... I met Someone who really is Perfect. Not the 'perfect' that I had always believed to be perfect; nowhere near that. I mean really Perfect. This was the Prince that I'd been waiting for, ever since four-year-old Haley sat on the couch in her sparkly pink princess dress, watching wide-eyed as Disney's Cinderella played on our old TV. And this Perfect One...He truly did cherish me. He truly did want me. All of me. All of my time, all of my love, all of my life. 

 And do you know, even after I saw what True Perfection looks like, I still didn't think that He could love me. Why? because I still wasn't good enough. And guess what? That is, and always will be, true. I can never, ever, ever be good enough to deserve the Love that only Perfection can deserve. 

So I collapse in a heap beside my Perfect Prince, and sob into trembling hands, "I see Your perfection. I see how good You are, and how right, and holy, and lovely, and pure. Your perfection isn't only an outer sort of perfect, but also an inner one. You're perfect through and through. But I am none of those things. I am poor, and weak, and ugly, and soiled. Perfection can't love me. I try and try and try, to be perfect enough to be loved by You, because I see You, and I want You...but I just cannot do it. It's hard." 

The Prince sits silently beside me for a moment. Then, His voice gentle, He says, "Yes, it is hard. I know exactly how hard. And yes, you are right, that Perfection cannot love imperfection in the way that you seek to be loved. But, beloved, there is a way." 

I raise my tear-filled eyes to His soft, gentle ones. "A way?" 

His smile breaks my heart, because it is a smile filled with such pain. "A way for you to be perfect." 

I cling to his hand. "Oh, my Lord, tell me. I'll do anything you ask, anything."

"That's just it, beloved.... you must do nothing. Here, let me show you." And then He places one scarred hand over my eyes. I had always wondered about those scars...I knew the story of how He'd gotten them, but what did they really mean? 

Suddenly, I saw a hill. A terrible place, with clouds as black as evil, and cruel, hate-filled voices clamoring. There was hate and misery everywhere, choking me. And upon a cross, lifted up above the rest, was the target of all the hate and malice that the world could muster. My Prince, my Beloved, with nails through His hands and feet, and skin hanging off in strips. 

A drop of red blood falls to the ground, and brilliant white light flashes, and then I am back, sitting beside my Prince -Jesus is His name. He places a finger under my chin and raises my head to look Him in the eye. "Now do you see, beloved? You are perfect, because I am perfect for you. You are beautiful, because I am beautiful for you. And I love you." 

Each of us is born knowing that perfection is what we should be able to achieve. Did you know that the definition of 'righteous' is "man as he ought to be"? And each of us knows that we are not 'as we ought to be'. We're not righteous, we're not perfect. So, in a futile effort to bridge this chasm of depravity, we think that making other people think we're perfect is the same as being  perfect. Let me tell you, it isn't. It's not even close. So you see, my friends... there is something terribly wrong, terribly imperfect about us. It's true. And nothing we can do, or wear, or say, or think, can change that. But there is One who is perfect for us. He is exactly as He ought to be. He is beautiful, and strong, and steadfast, and pure, and lively, and humble, and...perfect. And He invites us to be partakers of His perfection, of His completion, of His love. I have made my choice. What will you choose to see?

More, please?

"More, please?"

Those two words have changed my life. No joke. My heart probably whispers those words more often than any other sentence. (Oddly enough, those two words always remind me of Dickens' 'Oliver Twist'. But that's totally beside the point.)

I shall try to explain what these words have done in my life, or rather, what happened to cause me to say this. But I can't promise it will make any sense; I'm not at all certain that I understand it myself.

It all started Sunday, May 17th, 2009, at 12:45 PM (Yes, I have it right down to the minute!). That moment in time changed my entire future. A friend introduced me to the man who would become the love of my life. And I haven't been able to stop thinking about Him since. Not a single day goes by when we don’t talk. Every morning there is a letter sitting on my nightstand full of encouragement and love. Long conversations in the middle of the night that no one knows about, love letters that are pages and pages and pages long, secret gifts that no one else would recognize…

Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had our bumps in the road. I’ve failed him so many times –hanging out with those who hate him, with those who want to steal me from him; just being plain selfish and refusing to care about what he cares about. There have been times when I scorned his letters, disregarded his love, and turned my back on all that he’s wanted to give me. But no matter how many times that I -in weakness, or bitterness, or anger- have tried to forget that I ever met him, and that I love him... I just haven't been able to. In fact, every time I give up trying to forget he exists, I just find myself loving him even more than I did before. It's a perplexing cycle, at times. Some would call it obsession.

As any of you who know me even a little have guessed, this man’s name is Jesus. Jesus Christ; Son of God; the same yesterday, today, forever; King of kings, Lord of lords; Prince of life; my one and only Beloved. I am beyond lucky that He found me.

In many ways, the past two months have felt like years. He has gently asked me to submit to His wisdom in so many areas where I was simply terrified to walk any further away from my comfort zone. There were times when I wasn’t even sure He existed; times when I was just plain mad –at Him, for giving me these circumstances, at people, at myself…times when I was certain that I couldn’t keep living for even one more moment unless things changed. Everything I touched crumbled to dust.

And finally, He brought me to a place where I just didn’t have anyone else to rely on. I didn’t have my parents’ advice, I couldn’t talk with my brothers, I didn’t have my best friend to cry to. I was totally and completely cut off from all that had kept me from falling totally helpless on the mercy and grace of Jesus Christ. I literally had no one else to turn to, no other strength to rely on.

And that is when He filled me with Himself in such a way that I still cannot even begin to explain what has happened. The only word that comes even close, I think, is ‘security’. All the circumstances that would have thrown me into emotional turmoil and physical trauma I now seem to view at a distance. It’s as if there is some wall, some protection, between me and these difficulties. That protection is the loving hands of God. My perception of reality has changed. It’s not as if I am ignoring my issues, or these trials which are still so very present. Rather, it’s that I am secure in Christ’s love. I see and feel what is going on in the tangible world around me, but what my soul knows, what I really stand upon, is the person of Jesus Christ, and His love for me. Nothing else touches me.

Really, the driving force in my life, my heart's desire, is more of Jesus. More, more, more! Jesus has changed my life in such a way that I can no longer imagine my days having any meaning or stability without His presence. I want more. More truth, more love, more faith, more courage. More Jesus. As Christians, He is the center of our existence, the only thing that matters, the reason why we're on earth. Every moment that has ever and will ever exist has been purposed for His glory. It's no small thing. If all else is stripped away from us, Jesus promises that, even then, we will be complete in Him. Does that make anyone else want to lie prostrate on the floor in worship?

It is knowing this about my Jesus, my Beloved, that makes me bury a tear-stained face in trembling hands and beg for, “More, please? More of You?” 

In my spirit, I feel Him testing me. He’s warning me that with His presence comes dark trials, miserable testing. Cold, dark, crawly places. Facing all that I fear and loath is what, at times, will be required for me to receive what I request.

I take a slow, steady breath. “More, please? Whatever the cost, could I please have more of You? More of You is all I care about, it's all I need. More, please?” 

There’s nothing even remotely remarkable about me. I just really, really love Jesus, and I want to love Him even more...ever more. I have the ultimate –and undeserved –claim upon His strength.

It doesn’t really make sense. How can that which is not seen so absolutely overrule that which is seen? This, like most things in Christianity, cannot be explained, it must be experienced. And no matter how much I think I love Him, He loves me more. and *that* is what enables me to trust Him with my life; the "put together" parts along with the sticky, nasty, disgusting, bloody messes.

Jesus, as long as you are within me, I believe there is nothing I cannot face. But without you, I am less than nothing. Thank You for your always-love, and always-presence. May our desperate cry become, “More, please!” 

"Here in the arms of my Father

only grace can be found, so I lay my fears down.

Nothing is the same anymore,

You've changed me from the inside out.
Now my heart is beating and it's singing...
Even through the good and the bad times
You stay the same. So my song will remain, Lord...

Hold me
Pull me just a little bit closer
I don't want to lose this moment
Your love has covered me
And now I can't get over You."

~ Anthem Lights