A Master Author's Love Story

Love is such a crazy mystery.

I'm just a kid. One small life amidst this sea of faces we walk through. I have a name, and a face, and a quirky way of viewing this world around me. I see relationships all around me. I see other people, and I watch their interactions. I study habits and understand behavior and learn more about the driving force behind it all. I look into the eyes of another, and see a story written there, a story so deep and complex that only a Master Author could have written it there. I read between the lines of our society, evaluating, weighing, deciding. I think a lot about the heart and its many intricacies.

You are not inconsequential. You matter. You are not forgotten, nor are you a mistake. You have breath, you have life, and you are expected to grasp that with both hands and hold on tight. You are not without purpose. Your pain, your hurt, your doubts, your insecurities, they all lie behind you. With every passing second they fade, just like the rest of our dying world. But life lies ahead of you, no matter your age, and it's never too late to start living.

Your story is set before you. Blank pages can be filled with new starts, new experiences, and new triumphs. Your story is one that is written, is being written, and is yet to be written. You hold the pen above the page, and the choices you make influence who you become.

But, before you start writing, let me warn you: troubles will arise. You will face hardship, pain, and disaster. Though you feel that maybe this time you can make it, you can't. You simply cannot write a story that succeeds in the end. Everything deteriorates and fades. If you want to make a difference, if you want to shake the feeling of unimportance, you first need to put down your pen.

The Master Author has been writing billions of stories throughout the entirety of time. He's all-knowing, all-powerful, and holds all wisdom. He's been writing for a very long time, and every single word that He orchestrates brings glory to His name. His words are power, and His stories reflect His own heart.

That's the funny thing about being a writer. Your heart becomes laid out before the world to pick apart and examine, but first they have to peel back the layers of story. Every story reflects the author's heart, but most are too lazy to see what hides beneath the veil. In the same way, our God's heart continues on in our own stories, yet we fail to understand that incomprehensible truth lies just beneath the events of our lives.

God weaves all these little stories into a great tapestry. Every fiber is dependent on the others. No story is defined singled out, or alone. Every single story bumps into the others around it. You know what that means? It gives your life significance; you are being used to help write the stories of others, even as they write your own. They could be happy stories, or sad stories, but nevertheless you aren't inconsequential. You are essential.

In this tapestry is one crimson cord that if removed, the weaving would fall apart. Everything is reliant on this one strand; seemingly insignificant and forgotten by many, yet crucial to the fabric of all history.

Jesus's love is unlike any other. It's a mystery. He willingly came to die for us, and it's cliche. We regularly recognize Christ's death, but not it's implications. Jesus not only faced physical torment, but also emotional anguish.

He faced the cross alone. In the moments where He needed His Daddy most, your sin kept them from each other. In fact, God turned His face away, disgusted by what He saw on His Son's shoulders: your sin. Jesus had never been alone before; but there on that cross, He was denied and rejected by His family, His friends, the world, and His Daddy. 

And though Jesus faced this torment alone, still you added to His pain. With nails driven in His palms and feet, you still added to injury. You mocked Him, but I don't think it's your words that killed Him on the inside. It was His love for you. He loved you so much that He knew He must die for an ungrateful people. This wasn't just heartache, this was an inner death. This is anguish. The kind where you fall on your knees, then your face, lying in the pieces of what used to be your clothes, now torn in utter desolation. The wasteland that was His heart now was void, and now crying, bawling, wailing could not satisfy the raging anguish that pushed it's way out of His chest. His breath knocked out of Him from the pain, from the death, from the TORTURE that He endured inside. Because He loved you. 

He put so much value on you, that to lose you was to lose everything. But He was torn; He could stay safe and forget any chance of communion and fellowship with His creation, or He could die to bring the dead people that despise Him to love Him. To give them new life. He walked right into His enemy's camp, offered Himself up as retribution for sin He did not commit, and died. Died emotionally, died spiritually, and died physically.

That is a story of love. He rose from the grave, victorious and willing to extend grace to anyone who approached Him. Do not believe you are inconsequential. Your story is written by Him; the Author who died for you and suffered beyond what any of us will understand. To put yourself beyond God's love is to say that He didn't suffer enough. Every time you say you cannot be saved, not this time, you put Jesus on that cross again. His arms are stretched out today, but not on a cross; He's reaching to embrace you. 

Jesus's love is a mystery. You aren't worthless, so surrender your story to be written by the Master Author. Let Him display His love and mercy in and through you. For you while you aren't good enough, He is, and He loves you. Rely on His strength and His love. When you doubt His love for you, remember His heartbreak. When you doubt His plan for you, remember all He's done for you. And, as your story is written, choose to #LiveItLikeJesus.