At this campout, we, as a senior high group, talked about what it was like to be a church dater. A church dater is someone who picks and chooses what they want in a church. They might like the music, but not like the teaching. They might like the people, but not like the environment. Being a church dater is dangerous because it is ideal to accept the fact that everything, including churches, have flaws. There is no "perfect church," just a perfect God. The most important factor for finding a church is that God is the center of it all and you are comfortable. You have to be able to stretch out of your comfort zone, but only with God's hands guiding you. You can't be completely picky, but you can't be thoughtless about it either.
Finding a church that you absolutely love can be tricky.
Being God's bride can also be tricky... but only if you MAKE it tricky, just like you MAKE it tricky to find a church.
It is so important to be a lovely bride of Jesus. Everyone deserves to be loved by someone so perfect. Men are brides of Him, too, considering they marry the perfect love as well. When you accept God, you are attached to Him at the hip: He's your Father, your protector, and your friend. He will never dismay you.
A couple nights ago, I wrote a poem about becoming God's bride. There is actually a whole different reason why I wrote it, but it's applicable in everything we do. I was a very confused girl at the time. When I write something poetic (not necessarily always poetry), sometimes I find myself trying to talk about someone else (a person I admire, a boy, my sister, etc), and it all relates back to Christ. I want to capitalize the "h" in "Him" so I'm talking about the one true Him. I want to say that His arms are wrapped around me, instead of his arms wrapped around me. Now, being the sinful, deceitful, and crazy girl I am, I don't always think that.
This poem is just a little piece of our wedding day:
Sometimes I wonder, "What exactly did happen?"
Was it reality?
A dream?
Or completely unseen?
I couldn't tell You, because You have to tell me.
Gazing at the stars,
I can't even do anything.
Except watch.
Eyes wondering.
Searching.
Giving too much pondering.
Beloved? What do You want?
Inscribe upon my own scaring hand
Before giving a promise of the band.
As our melodies play
and we are caught in the way of the wind.
I look.
I stare.
I ask.
"Beloved? What do You want?"
And He answers, "To be My princess."
So, I lace up a gown
Putting all my fear and my might
Being stricken with worry
And all but delight.
It falls cooly, taking shape as a wound
And I realize I am never to be expected.
I am nothing but perplexed
Drawn away in my own selfish desire
But as I walk through the valley, I only see His attire.
It makes sense? Oh, no.
Wisdom must come soon.
Why life doesn't fit, I'll never know.
As I see my dear Father, watching me get ready;
I hear Him whisper, "You will forever be My bride."
And that is when I know
We were born to abide.
