Let’s talk frankly, shall we?
What is the one single greatest human fear? Getting attacked by zombies in a crypt outside of London at dusk and running out of ammo. Wait no. That’s not it.
To not be loved. That’s it. To not be appreciated and recognized, to go through life without one other person expressing deep, passionate desire for everything we are, down to our very pores. Ok, I’ve never had someone express desire for my pores… that would be… odd… but you know what I mean.
We watch videos like the one John Piper’s group sent around, which is now being translated into other languages so more folks around the world can see what Love with a capitol L looks like, and we sigh and go… ohhhh man, yea. that would be it. That’s what I want. (To see blog post and video of said couple click here.)
And then if you are anything like me, and, chances are, you are a little, you ask yourself, Self, what EXACTLY is it about this love that gets to me? And at the risk of sounding obvious, you think about how very challenging it would be to marry someone who has had the accident that Ian had, and that for both of them it must be frustrating and, well, challenging, to get through the day. There are so many things – conversations that are a bit lost, being able to be active and randomly go on vacations and adventures, raising kids and don’t forget having lots and lots of sex. All of these things are sacrificed in their life together and we collectively go, yes. That’s what love is – a picture of commitment and the enduring love for another that transcends these earthly pleasures for something spiritual and eternal.
But then it brings me back to ME, because everything eventually becomes about me, and how I am alone and not that in love with anyone. And as far as I know, no one is that in love with me. And if I had an accident tomorrow there wouldn’t be someone who would hold my hand through it other than my parents. And not to belittle that in any way shape or form, I’m just saying it’s easy – and I’ll admit this for all of us – to be ever so slightly bitter about feeling it’s all well and good for people who have already fallen in love once.
But what about that gnawing fear that grows inside us as the years go by and life just rubs us raw? Will I never meet that person? Will I always go home alone? Will I be that crazy old lady with cats – in my case teacup pigs which makes me slightly crazier than normal crazy old lady – and with big funny hats? (And I did buy a floppy hat which will make an appearance soon I’m sure.)
And if you are even more like me, you start thinking about what’s wrong with me? Why am I so hard to fall in love with? What is it about me that always breaks the deal? Why can’t I just give in and be happy with the last person I broke up with for some crazy Seinfeld-like reason? Or maybe the next person who comes along?
And then it hits me. Just like God wrote Ian and Larissa’s story – including the chapter that brought them together and then the one where he had an accident, and now the one where their lives are held up for all the world to see as an image of Grace and Hope and all that is good in the world – God is writing MY story too. And there are some real doozies in the previous chapters and all kinds of drastic turnabouts, but PRAISE GOD the story comes back and I know that it will finish strong. Because I’m not writing it any more. I put down my pen and I stopped typing (even though I do type pretty fast) and I gave back the con to the One who started it in the first place.
And this isn’t easy. Just like it isn’t easy to watch the slowest typist ever hunt and peck for letters with two fingers – you want to grab the keyboard away from them and bang their hands with it. You get impatient and sarcastic with them. And by “you” I mean “me” here. But for the God as Author analogy, I came to realize that He already typed the whole thing out and what I’m failing to do is just sit back and read it. I’m trying to second guess the plot and make up characters and force a structure that isn’t there. It’s like reading a book and I keep stopping and trying to make up my own book as I go along instead of reading what’s on the page and going with it.
And I always have to come back to whether or not I truly believe in all this. If I have the faith that God is real, He is in love with me, and He has written my story. Do I really believe it and can I trust that He wrote a bestseller? I pray with Thomas, I believe! Help me in my unbelief!