My Husband?

I used to scoff at the exhortations from Christian writers and leaders regarding satisfaction in God's love alone— to crown Christ the "Prince" of my heart instead of a human Prince Charming, to make God my first love, to apply that seemingly sacrilegious verse in Isaiah about my "Maker being [my] husband" (54:5). Yes, it was nice in theory to be satisfied in God's love and not in a man's. But how unrealistic. I can't see God. I can't feel his arms around me. I've never received a bouquet of wildflowers with a "Love, Jesus" tag written in cursive. He can't sit next to me and watch the ducks at the pond.

Yet lately the cliches have met reality. No, I haven't literally seen the face of God. But I see more and more of his incomparable beauty in my morning quiet times. No, I haven't physically felt his arms. But I leaned on the everlasting arms (Deuteronomy 33:27) when I had to have a difficult confrontation with someone at church. No, a bouquet hasn't mysteriously appeared at my doorstep. But I've yet to find a guy that can create anything close to the beauty of the Milky Way stretched across the vast night sky, complete with shooting stars. And the rest of the world might not have seen him, but Jesus was at Community Park the other day. I know because we were having a discussion about his justice and mercy.

It's not so much that Jesus is "my boyfriend" or "the love of my life" that gives me butterflies and mushy feelings when I think about him; it's that knowing and seeking and loving him makes everything in this world that I longed for and believed would give my life significance pale in comparison to his unrivaled beauty.

Why was I so impressed with men again? Oh yeah, I'm probably going to marry one someday. Well until then, I'm content to be the "unmarried woman that cares about the things of the Lord" (1 Corinthians 7:34).