I was going through my draft folder where a number of articles have been left to rot, and I came across this post that dates back to the 1st of November 2017.
I began to read it and couldn’t stop till I got to the end and wished I had never abandoned it. At this moment, I can’t remember my state of mind when I wrote it, but I love the storyline and wish I could have completed it. I know this post was not meant to state that I dislike Jesus, but the approach was more of a figure of speech (I don’t know which now). Enjoy the short read, and if anything jumps at you, I’ll love to know.
The list is very long.
And I fear that you’ll agree with me if you will only be honest with yourself: There’s a lot to not like about Jesus Christ.
You see, I started my journey of doing life with him a while ago. It was love at first sight. He was beyond amazing. The eternal guy of my eternal dreams; everything I ever wanted. It happened one day while I was on Life’s Tour and found myself walking on a very lonely road. I had just lost my tour guide and somewhere in my heart I knew I was never going to find him again. This was it. Me. All alone. The realisation of my then present condition broke my heart into many million pieces and as I walked on that lonely road, I knew I was going to be lost . . . and lonely for the rest of my life.
From behind me, I could hear sounds of wolves. I knew they were there, and if they decided I was meal for the night, I was no Usain Bolt. They’ll surely catch me no matter how fast my fear would push me to run. So I walked in resignation. The sun was slowing setting in the horizon, soon enough I’ll have no light to continue my journey, but I walked still. I was so lost in thought I didn’t realise when I tripped on a boulder and came crashing to the ground, ripping my trousers . . . bruising my knee. I sat down to wipe the dust off my legs with my tears that were graciously flowing at this point, when I heard footsteps.
“You are lost!“
Duh! Of course I was. Anyone with a vague perception of life would know I was. So I didn’t answer.
“You are hurt!“
Double duh!!! Who is this ‘Mr.-I-Only-State-The-Obvious’?
“I have found you!“
Okay! That’s it. I had had enough. So I turned to size down whoever he was with my eyes.
***eyes couldn’t move from his face no matter how hard I tried to continue my gaze towards his feet***
HE WAS STUNNING! I’ll get lost everyday just to be found by this . . . this . . . (no words).
From that day, I knew love unconditional. You see, he had come a very long way to find me that night. He put his life down on the line for me. Only Love could do that. And his love swept me off my feet. I let him move in and we began to live together and do life together. He let me be myself and didn’t try to change me, like the others I had loved in the past. Everyone who knew me could see that something had changed. There was this glow. It was going to last forever.
Then it started to happen . . .
- For many like me who have all their lives lived in abusive relationships, it becomes tough to accept anyone who would not give us the pleasure of being abused. We somehow have lived to believe that their abuse is the evidence of their love for us. Anything short of that amounts to nothing. He would do the laundry ever so lovingly and clean up the house. But the more he did it, the more I made a mess, and he would say nothing. I would always come home to see it made up again. There were times that my carelessness would have the best of me and the mess I’d make would be the mess of a lifetime, still he’d say nothing. Yes, the last time I had anyone in his capacity, it wasn’t ever like this. Not even to the last 3 before him. They would bring down the house on my head and remind me of how careless I was. And that was the response I was used to. I lived for it. But from him, I never got it. And this frustrated me to my bones.
That was were it stopped. To think that the list could have been much longer, now I wish I at least left bullet points of what I intended to write.
I have a sneaky feeling that I was trying to point out not just the difference between Jesus and the others who have claimed to love me, but how His perfection makes me want to be better. His perfect love draws the best out of me even when my flesh tries to resist. So, of course, the one who doesn’t like Jesus is my flesh that must die daily so that His Spirit can come alive in me.
As I look back on this 4-year-old post, I’m grateful that God has brought me to a place over these years where my identity is secure in Him. If I wrote this post again, I wouldn’t bother using any figure of speech to catch attention, I will plainly call it ALL I LOVE ABOUT JESUS, because I am not frustrated by the way He treats me in comparison to the others before. And my flesh is slowly getting the memo: I am enjoying His patience, gentleness and long-suffering towards me. I would not have it any other way!