I must confess (re-posted)
note: Apparently someone thought it would be funny to post a completely pointless comment just to show off their extensive vocabulary, and for some reason the "delete comments" function doesn't seem to working, so I deleted the post and now I'm reposting it. I'm sorry if you saw the new date and you thought I actually wrote something new. I promise to do that soon though.
I am in my office at work ... door closed, shades down. From my speakers pours "Wedding Dress" by Derek Webb. I turn to look out the window at the rain splattering softly against the glass, hiding my face from anyone who might somehow be able to see into my office.
I am a whore, I do confess. I put You on just like a wedding dress, and I run down the aisle, run down the aisle.
I'm a prodigal with no way home. I put You on just like a ring of gold, and I run down the aisle, run down the aisle to You.
I have heard this song only once before, and the lyrics had the same impact then that they are having now. Big, drippy tears running down my burning cheeks, I fall to my knees on this drab gray office carpet. I feel naked and exposed, stripped of all my good intentions and self-righteous pretenses. Beneath it all, beneath the worship leader, songwriter, daughter, sweet granddaughter, cool aunt, thoughtful neighbor, slackish employee, and sometimes dependable friend, there lies a whore. A whore whose affections are easily swayed and purchased by the currency of this world. But when was the last time I ran down the aisle?
Even now, I sit at the doorway with a heavy heart and tear-filled eyes ... unable to pull myself to my feet and run to the One who longs to satisfy the deepest longings of my unfaithful heart and love me as only He can. And yet somehow, my Lord waits for me patiently ... even in this moment, knowing what it is that keeps me from jumping to my feet. He knows how awkward I feel in this beautiful, sparkling wedding dress ... I feel like a little girl playing dress-up. The dress is ill-fitting and my feet are awkward and gangly. But still He waits. In His eyes, the dress suits me perfectly and was designed especially for me ...
But this moment is for me and Him. I am falling in to the tendency I have lately of sharing these intimate moments with others, when they should be a precious thing. It looks like I'm not alone though ... Darcie is going through something similar. There's this tendency with us to want to share everything with everyone ... and I'm realizing that the sacredness of the moment is sometimes diminished when the crowd rolls in with their gawks and stares.
Don't get me wrong, there is still something to be said about shared experiences ... but I am being reminded that shared experiences are even sweeter when they are not so commonplace, and the sacred moments are a bit more sacred when they're just between me and Him. I'll still be here, and I'll still be writing. But I'll also be hanging out in the chapel alone a bit, admiring the beauty of my custom-made wedding dress and laughing as I run down the aisle with no regard to the gawks and stares of the people who have their faces pressed up against the windows. :)
