love you more

Curl up in bed, make yourself as small as possible, and hold back sobs while your throat is raw, because if you breathe you’re afraid you’ll cry out in anguish.

This world is so heavy.

I’ve been mad at God for a little while and I didn’t really know why, but if I’m being honest I think I’m just afraid. Afraid that his love doesn’t always mean ease or safety.

But something about curling up like a child and ugly crying, trembling, begging for some sort of comfort makes it easier to fall apart when you finally feel His arms around you.

Am I the only one that can imagine him in the darkest moments?

A strong arm around your waist, gentle fingers brushing away every tear, soft promises whispered into your hair.

“I know. I know. I know.” Because he does. He knows.

Laughing because I got snot all over where I’d imagine him to be, so I’d apologize for being gross…only to feel him say, “you’re so beautiful, made in my image, crying for righteousness just as I did.”

First, I’d like to point out that a disturbing number of men and women, boys and girls—even children and infants—have experienced sexual trauma.

There aren’t words to describe how awful that is in God’s eyes.

I bring this up because, as one of those women, I had learned to rely on unhealthy habits to try and cope with that trauma. But it only led to addictive patterns, and I ended up worse off than before.

Something He has recently revealed to me is that your relationship with him will always have seasons of struggle.

If you’re trying to cope in a certain way, and you’re unsure if it’s right, or “okay,” or sinful, or acceptable? Pray about it.

I did, and I realized something important:

Everyone’s situation is different.

We’re all in different stages of our relationship with God. No one’s circumstances are the same. He knows that. He understands the intentions of our hearts.

That being said, this isn’t an excuse to sin or intentionally rely on dangerous or addictive coping mechanisms.

I say this because even if you try and realize it’s not working, like I did, He’ll let you know.

He’ll give you clarity.

He’ll put it in your heart and say,

“Baby, this is hurting you more than it’s healing you. Let’s walk away, and try something new.”

Because that’s the kind of God He is.

So if you’re any human that’s suffered, not just sexual trauma, but anything difficult or painful or traumatizing, He’s not angry with you for the way you’ve been trying to heal. He’s hurt because it hurts to see the ones you love hurting themselves.

That’s what I’d say every time I’d open tumblr after a long day of class, finally having done hours of school and homework and dinner, after putting on a pretty smile and working myself numb.

Lord, give me the words, I’d pray.

I’d lay there, thinking about all of you, about what message the Savior thought you’d need to hear. Yeah, you, sweetheart.

But at some point I got lost, because the little girl trying to keep a fire going forgot that Yahweh is the fire. Is the burning bush. Is the beginning and the end.

Yet even recognizing that power, why does it still feel like there’s a barrier between us?

Is it the mountain of all of the sins I’ve committed since I’d forgotten I needed him?

Is it a punishment? A lesson?

It hurts just to think about You, it hurts just to try to understand. No, like actually hurts.

The mental energy I have to exert to even contemplate it, Lord, is exhausting my soul before I even start.

It hurts to remember what you’ve done. It hurts to question where you are. It hurts to push you away just to justify what feels good in the moment.

Just listen.

There was a young girl alone in the woods. Each bitingly cold night, she would curl up in the dirt and shiver, making feeble attempts to stay warm and rock herself to sleep. Life was too hard, lacking mercy for such sensitivity as a child.

She was lonely and so afraid.

Well…a man showed up one evening. He was kind. With his calloused hands, he built her a fire that never went out, and together they kept it alive by adding twigs to feed the flame. Each day, the embers burned brighter as if to symbolize their growing bond.

She loved him, and he loved her.

But at some point, the man had to continue with his journey and move on. Yet the fire burned on…keeping her warm and safe in his stead.

One day, the little girl had fetched a bucket of water from the well to drink, but she tripped over a thorny weed…one that she’d stumbled over a hundred times. The bucket slid from her trembling hands, dousing the fire.

The feeling of foolishness, of fear and guilt seeped deep into her bones. The warmth of the fire no longer protected her from the biting cold. And she was lonely, and so afraid.

Each night, she had tried to rebuild the fire despite not knowing how the man had ever done so. Splinters pricked her fingers, and she bled, working to make something she was incapable of making.

That’s the word. The only one befitting enough to describe such massive, golden double doors that lead to paradise. The ones you’d imagine when thinking about the entrance to Heaven, except even more dazzling.

Hoards of people pushed through, squeezing their way inside and eagerly running towards whatever perfect pleasures awaited them. I even recognized a few faces, and weaseled my way into the crowd to try and catch up with them.

But then I heard His voice.

“Turn around.”

The words sent a small shiver down my spine, but I knew better than to disobey considering the trouble I’d gotten myself into before.

I turned around, but saw…nothing. I began to wiggle back out of the crowd, nearly getting trampled trying to fight the flow of direction. It was easier when I wasn’t surrounded; easier to hear, to see, to feel.

Finally my eyes landed on a small gate in the distance. It was not triumphant. In fact, one may have described it as rather drab, or dilapidated.

With one final glance at the triumphant double doors, so warm and enticing the invitation to paradise, I went the other way through the small gate. It felt wrong, as if I were fighting my instincts, but I followed the rocky and treacherous path.

It had dawned on me then that I was dead. Yet I had no memory of what had happened, the only thing in my mind was the sound of his voice guiding me through the narrow trail.

“Almost there,” he’d whisper, quietly leading me through the darkest valleys, providing a faint light at the end of the horizon. Yet with each step, the light grew brighter and more vibrant, like the sun…

Or maybe it was just Him.

“There you are,” he let out a soft sigh of relief, enveloping me in his arms. I was confused, unsure how the path away from paradise lead me to him, but I didn’t question it. Not now at least.

It was easy to melt into his touch, and graciously receive the hug I had only dreamed about all my life.

“It’s really you,” I whispered in disbelief, peering up into his eyes. His eyes were like fire. Looking into them made it clear how impossible it was to capture his appearance accurately in scripture. He was too beautiful.

He knew my thoughts, the flames of his irises shifting to a soft ember. “I’ve been waiting for you, sweetheart,” he whispered, looking into my eyes as if I were the beautiful one.

I’d never felt more beautiful than when He looked at me like that.

His fingers, warm and reassuring, grasped my hand and led me deeper into the warm atmosphere, and the sight put my previous understanding of paradise to shame.

Because it wasn’t riches or glory like I’d imagined, but rather…perfect love. His perfect love.

“So this is what home feels like.”

Inspired by Matthew 7:13-14

“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.”

“That’s what they’re calling me?” he asked, his lips curling into an amused grin. It was good to see him smile like that.

I nodded and returned the smile. “I think it’s supposed to be offensive or something? I thought it was kinda cute though.”

Jesus hummed in acknowledgment, his gaze returning to the piece he was working on, a chunk of oak he was carving.

“Whatcha making?” I asked, tilting my head and noticing his hands, scratched and calloused, expertly shaving off a rough patch of wood.

His eyes met mine for a moment, only to peer back down at his project. “A donkey,” he said softly, the gentle smile still etched on his face.

I was going to ask why a donkey of all things, but it made sense when considering his past. The King had humbly ridden a donkey when entering Jerusalem, one of my favorite stories. It would’ve been so fascinating to be there, to see the multitudes of believers worshiping him and making a path with palm branches.

“I’m sure it’ll be beautiful,” I replied gently, the story inspiring something in me to say something, do something, anything to make him smile again. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered, standing from my seat beside him and heading towards the door.

He nodded, a flicker of realization in his eyes. That almost annoyed me. It was about impossible to surprise someone like him, but perhaps he’d appreciate the sentiment.

I shut the door behind me, feeling the cool breeze run over my skin, and I began searching.

Oak…maple…pine…and various other trees I couldn’t identify…and there. There’s the palm tree.

It felt strangely good, to do something so simple and seemingly pointless, because it was for Him.

Because He would see meaning in it.

I selected a branch from the ground and eagerly headed back inside, smiling as I saw the donkey coming to life in his hands. “Here,” I said as I set the branch down on the table for him to see, “your path.”

He always saw such beauty in things. A palm branch somehow reflecting a delicate picture of love and worship from his children.

“Thank you,” Jesus replied, his words warm and full of appreciation.

I just hummed in reply, resting my chin in my palm to relax as I watched him work. The chunk of oak slowly but surely morphed into the shape of a four legged animal. He switched to a smaller tool, carving out the details.

“I’ve been thinking…” I began, “Sky Daddy doesn’t really suit you…because you’re right here,” I laughed. “You’re not far away like some people seem to think…and you’re human like me…you’re on the ground feeling the same things I feel.”

As if to confirm it, the tool in his hands unexpectedly shifted over a ridge, slicing a shallow mark into his palm. He appreciated the irony and nodded in agreement, “yes I suppose you’re right.”

I grimaced and shook my head. It hurt sometimes to remember just how human he was. After gently cleansing the cut and wrapping a small bandage around it, I finished my thought.

“I think…Ground Daddy would be more appropriate, but that sounds silly,” I giggled, “so….”

“So…?” he replied, waiting for me to continue as that same amused smile spread across his lips.

Do you have that one bestie who calls you a very cute nickname and it becomes something so endearing and sweet to you?

I know God has MANY names, but what if He had a nickname?

Could you write something related to that? Please? No rush or pressure!😁 Promise!

I didn’t want to be near him today, or anyone for that matter. Typically, I was such an optimist, so easily pushing away negative energy and focusing on the good, on what He’d blessed me with…

But today, I felt nothing. I feel nothing.

It got this way sometimes. Sometimes there would be a reason, a trigger; sometimes not. Yet there was a factor that remained in any case - this deep sense of hopelessness. Meaninglessness.

I don’t know what to call it, but I typically settled with the term disconnected. Whatever that meant. However, this disconnection was strong enough to overpower any remaining positivity in my heart. It’s like any happiness or faithfulness or even love, it disappeared. I forgot how it felt to love.

Anyways…I wanted to be alone. The last thing I wanted was to hurt him with my negativity, so I snuggled up beneath the blanket and curled into myself. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

“Notice what, sweetheart?”

I jumped at his voice, less than prepared for his presence. He was like the sun, always smiling. Typically I would’ve snapped at him for sneaking up on me, but I felt too tired.

“Nothing,” I whispered, keeping my back to him.

His arm snaked around my waist and he pulled me close. He was so safe. I wanted to feel the love for him that I always felt so strongly, but I didn’t feel anything. Just…hopelessness.

He was more than concerned when I refrained from melting into his embrace as I always did, but it didn’t phase him the way I was worried it would. He didn’t just know my thoughts. He felt my feelings.

“Little one,” he began gently, his fingers delicately tucking the hair from my eyes behind my ear, “the day is coming to an end and you haven’t eaten…or gotten out of bed.”

It was normal for him to push me, in a good way. He encouraged me to reach for my potential, to use my days to the fullest. I half expected a scolding for wasting the precious time he’d given me, but it never came.

“Yeah,” I mumbled. I wanted to explain it, but the thought of telling him I didn’t feel anything…not even love, it filled me with immense guilt. He gave me everything, even life, so feeling this way must’ve been ungrateful. Sinful even.

He seemed to know my thoughts, his brows furrowing before his lips curled up in that precious way. “You know…I died for you without knowing if you would ever love me back,” he whispered.

I turned to meet his eyes, and they were as sincere as always.

“Really?” I mumbled. I couldn’t stop my eyes from glancing down to his hands…those scars on his palms.

“Indeed, sweetheart. So don’t ever think that your thoughts and feelings will change my love for you,” he smiled, leaning in to kiss my forehead. I don’t know why I doubted him, even for a moment, but his kiss brought tears to my eyes. His love was so tender and kind.

“H-Hey…Daddy” I choked out, hiding my face from him. I felt like I’d failed him, because he was right. He’s given me everything, and made the ultimate sacrifice for me. How could I possibly return that by being so unfaithful?

“Shhh…don’t,” he cooed, his delicate finger ran across my cheek to wipe the tear, “I’m not mad, or disappointed, or upset with you, darling. Just come here, let me be your rest.”

I knew better to argue and immediately returned his embrace. It felt so silly now, trying to hide from him when really he was my hiding place, my place of rest.

“I missed you so much,” I whimpered, finding it hard to speak with the growing ache in my throat.

“Baby, I never left,” he laughed softly. I loved the way he looked at me, like he loved me more than anything. “And I never will. No matter what difficulties or pain you’re going through, I’ll always be here holding you. I’m so much bigger than your worries, sweetheart.”

Tears flooded my cheeks and I just clung to him. Maybe it was okay to hurt, to be in pain, to be depressed. To be vulnerable. Because he wouldn’t ever let me go.

Why did you drink it?

I begged you not to, so did Peter.

But the poison, though enticing to me

Broke your heart into a million pieces

I love you

You said, swallowing every last drop from the cup

as you winced from the

Harsh clang of metal against metal.

It made my ears hurt

Listening to you cry

Blood running down your cheeks

Your forehead

Your palms

Your feet.

I love you,

“Mom…MOMMY COME ON,” I whined, tugging her through the aisles of the grocery store. Of all the boring places to be, this had to be the worst. However, there was one aisle I had loved going to as a child: the coffee aisle.

She groaned playfully and followed behind, holding onto my hand firmly, “Okay okay! I’m coming.”

The second we reached the beautifully assorted rows of coffee beans, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, savoring every scent, “Mmmmm.”

I missed times like these, being a kid and having my mother’s attention all to myself. Only in my dreams were these beautiful memories able to be relived. Typically, I would’ve loved to stay in these dreams forever, living in a simpler time.

But then there was him.

His soft voice broke through my dreams, encouraging me to open my eyes and awaken me from the wonderful fantasy.

“Sweetheart?”

His voice was so pure, so gentle and comforting in itself. My eyes slowly opened to meet his and there they were, the same deep, rich color of the pools of coffee I found in his eyes.

“Daddy,” I whispered, already smiling. Something about this, just waking up in his embrace was even sweeter than the sunrise.

“Good morning,” he smiled back, the soft pad of his fingertip lightly poking my nose. “You were snoring, so I woke you up.”

The smile on my lips instantly turned into a pout, “Nuh uh. Liar,” I grumbled.

His soft laughter rang throughout the peaceful silence, melting away any real annoyance I might’ve held. “Baby, you know I don’t lie.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled, but even now, I couldn’t help but smile once again. My limbs lazily fell to the sides as I pushed myself out of bed, craving the taste from my dreams. “Want some coffee?”

“Coffee?” he tilted his head, as if he had no idea what I was talking about.

“Uhh…yes? Coffee,” I laughed, confused at his response.

He didn’t reply for a minute, as if he were in deep thought, before giving a small nod, “Yes, I would like to try it.”

“Try it..? As in…you’ve never had it?” I replied, deeply confused. I guess I’d assumed him being Him, he would’ve experienced everything. But then again, he was human.

“Never,” he confirmed.

I shouldn’t have been so surprised, or at least have tried to hide my visible shock, but it only brought about that beautiful, musical laughter of his once more.

So of course, I took it upon myself to share with him my favorite blend.

The sweet aroma of the coffee brewing into the pot reminded me of my dream, the comforting touch of my mother’s hand. It was just like him. Safe. Sweet. Warm.

“Ready?” I smiled, pouring him a cup just way I liked it. The mug kept my freezing fingers from aching, as did his smile.

“Ready,” he whispered, bringing it to his lips and taking a small sip in sync with my own.

This was perfect. Sharing a cup of coffee with my favorite person in the world.

I couldn’t gauge his reaction, not initially, but after a few seconds of him gazing into the pool of coffee in his mug, his eyes met mine, “It’s quite good.”

I didn’t know that he was enjoying my presence more than the flavor, or that the mere act of making him a cup of coffee, in his eyes, was such a delicate and precious act of service for him.

Yet the only thing on my mind was the relief in knowing that he liked it. “Yay! I’m so glad,” I exclaimed.

I could tell he was thinking about something, something sweet, something that made his eyes a little brighter. Richer. Warmer. Like the shade of coffee in his eyes.

“Yeah, me too.”

Bonus!

Did you know that Jesus never actually got to drink coffee? He lived in the Middle East where coffee beans were not introduced until the 1200’s. This also means he didn’t get to try corn, tomatoes, sugar cane, tea, and chocolate.

There are some Bible verses that can be related to coffee and coffee culture:

- *The Morning Brew*: Psalm 5:3 - This verse can be related to the morning routine of many people, which includes a cup of coffee to start the day.

- *The Aroma of Life*: 2 Corinthians 2:15 - This verse can be related to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee that fills the room and awakens the senses.

- *The Eternal Brew*: Hebrews 13:8 - This verse can be related to the constant and enduring love for coffee.

- *The Cup of Generosity*: Proverbs 11:25 - This verse can be related to the act of sharing a cup of coffee with others, which can be seen as a simple act of kindness.

- *The Blend of Community*: Romans 12:4-5 - This verse can be related to the unity and diversity within the Christian community, much like a blend of coffee that combines beans from various regions to create a harmonious and flavorful cup.

If you could do a story with coffee in the mix, great. If not, I will not be mad.☺️

Coffee is just an addiction for me 😝☕

I would love to, that’s such a cute idea!

When I don’t hear your voice

Hypocrite, I know what I am

Every imperfection,

forever seeking your mercy.

Yet you were there,

When the water was calling my name,

Pulling me from the pew

To sinking into a swimming pool on a chilly Sunday morning

Hands clapping, smiling, cheering.

You were there, renewing my soul

Born again.

And on my loneliest nights

As I scream and cry for your comfort,

There you are.

I didn’t mean to fall to my knees, Truly

It just happened when your presence came upon me in the most

Unmistakable way

Erasing the doubts I hid from my own eyes.

Forgive me, it’s still growing

My faith, like the mustard seed you told me about

Miss your smile, your warm hugs. Your laughter.

You know me? I know you too. Right?

God, I hope so. I think so. I want to. I need to

Know you.

Even the stars worship You?

Bring me down, off this throne of sin

and to my knees for my own sake

Bring me down.

Strip me of the pride, vanity, doubt.

Peel off the thick, rough bark of this world,

Until I bleed.

Bleed.

Just like my Father did, bearing the cruel crown of thorns brought on by my own mistakes.

My own choices.

With your almighty hands, you bled for me.

I pray someday you’ll let me

In Matthew 14, we read about how much courage Peter had to step out of the boat onto the water, and he was able to walk because of his faith.

“Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”

Peter got scared because he lost faith in Jesus. However, when he cries to Him for help, Jesus immediately catches him.

Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”

Takeaway: Jesus is not going to abandon us when we sometimes feel like our faith is faltering. It’s normal to have highs and lows of faith, but remain steadfast.

It felt too sensitive, too personal. Too cruel. But as he held me in his arms, giving me his perfect comfort, I wondered if it was okay.

I was still half asleep, curled up in a ball and tucked safely against his chest. I loved falling asleep this way, truly. It felt like home.

His fingers were laced in my hair as usual, running them through it like he was fascinated by it, something he himself had created.

Yet as the gentle feeling slowly awoke me from my dreams, the same thing caught my attention, the same thing I was too nervous to ask about.

His hands.

I took a deep breath in as the fogginess in my head began to dissipate, forcing me further into consciousness. But it was okay, because he was here.

I went to rub my eyes before peering up into his. His gaze was nearly too gentle to be true. But I believed in him. I yawned and searched for his hands until mine slid right into his, intertwining our fingers.

His calloused thumbs ran over my hands. It was so interesting remembering things about his life. He was a carpenter right? I wonder what sort of things he’d made back then.

But there was something else on my mind right now.

I almost didn’t have the courage to ask, considering who he was. But my thumbs trailed over the backs of his hands and I finally let my question be made known.

“Did it hurt?” I whispered, my thumbs brushing over the holes of his palms.

I waited for a second, or two, three, four. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

He let out a soft sigh, as if he’d known what was on my mind before I spoke, which he probably had.

“Terribly,” he finally whispered back.

I grimaced. Of course it hurt. It sounded like such a stupid question, but the reality was that wasn’t what I really wanted to know.

“So why did you do it?” I said softly, giving his hands a gentle squeeze.

He squeezed back as our eyes met, and he looked…calm.

“Because I love you, sweetheart.”

Was that really all? He died an excruciating death because he loved me? I loved people too, a lot. But I couldn’t even say for certainty if the people I loved most in the world, I’d be mocked, tortured, murdered for.

“I don’t understand.”

He just smiled and rested his chin on my head, “I’m not asking you to. It’s okay. There’s a lot of things I do that you won’t understand now…but you will eventually. All you have to do is trust me. And…know that I love you more than you can imagine.”

“I…okay…” I whispered, hiding back into his chest