Love Comes Running

I have a plant on my bedside table that makes me jealous. 

This plant seems to have achieved more growth in the past four months than I have in the past year. 

It's delicate, strong, and challenging all at once. 

It's defying the boundaries I gave it, and thriving despite the fact that I didn't pot it properly. 

I named it after Ella Fitzgerald, and honestly, it's hard to sit next to the pretty, successful thing. 

I've felt this way next to people. Next to stories. 

I've wanted to make myself smaller, invisible. Just because I felt I was coming up short, and ::ahem:: THIS IS WRONG, THESE ARE LIES. ::excuse me::

I keep on crawling deeper into myself, as if I'll find meaning or comfort there, and all I find is humanity, in all its lack; all its depravity. 

Now, what to do, what to do? Where to go with all this need? 

Up. 

Out. 

I have Someone safe in my corner who always wants to help me up, help me out. 

So He meets me halfway every time. 

More than halfway, really. 

I take a step towards Jesus, and like, Boop! He's there. 

Heaven touches earth in the blink of an eye because my Savior knows how much I need saving. 

And I write these words to remind us both, on either end of this strange internet contraption, that all it takes is that small choice. 

When we come to the end of the depths of ourselves. 

When we realize our need, and our finite nature. 

We can take one step. Maybe just that one that turns us around so that we're looking for God again. 

And the Lord, in His infinite grace, will come running. 

He's not waiting for us to cross this magical line that says we're back in holy territory. He removed such barriers when He died. 

He just calls us to turn around. 

I picture Him seeing my tentative turn and rejoicing. "She's looking for Me! She realized she needs Me! I'm gonna go get her!" 

That's the kind of gracious, radical, jubilant love that comes running after the wanderers. 

Turn around and look for Him today. I dare you.