She was the smartest, prettiest,
and most gracious girl I had ever met.
She also laughed at my jokes.
When I first met my wife we were in a freshman college class. Required
to sit alphabetically she was the reluctant recipient of my affection. There were days she came to class determined
to ignore my charm and tenacity, but persistence won out. Certain that I would receive a positive response
I asked her out on a date only to be rejected.
My ego was wounded, but my determination was not diminished; I wore her
down until she relented. We had our
first date, and we lived happily ever after.
We had been
dating for a while when, the week before the party (we didn’t have dances)
where the girls asked the guys, she wanted to take a break from our dating
relationship. There are differing accounts of this event, but the next week was
excruciating for me. In the end I was
able to talk my way back into her heart, and a year and half after dating I
asked her to marry me, and we lived happily ever after.
Stepping
off the plane I was wearing a tattered leather jacket, a British cap with an
afro poking out from under it, painters overalls, and carrying a guitar case
with the words “Jesus Saves” painted in bright yellow on its side. When my wife’s father met me he greeted me
warmly. Over the next month I worked in
his church with the teens and waited for his daughter to join us. When she finally arrived her parents took her
aside and asked, “Are you sure you want to marry this young man?” And we lived happily ever after.
We were
engaged for a year and half, way too long for a young couple in love. Our Bible College had strict rules that were
difficult to adhere to, and we fought over their application. There were ups and downs and I am sure
moments where her parents’ question echoed in her ears. In the end we planned our wedding, invited
our guests, and waited with great anticipation for that special day.
Looking
back I can’t, for the life of me, understand why I picked baby blue for the
color of my tux, but no one was looking at me.
When the music played and the congregation stood all eyes turned to the
woman walking down the isle. When I saw
her for the first time, wearing the long white gown, approaching me with a
smile that melted my heart, everything that happened in the past faded away. She was a bride prepared for this moment, she
was pure, she was dedicated, and she was giving herself to me. When the vows were said, the promises made,
and our commitment sealed with a kiss, I was the happiest man alive. And we lived happily ever after.
“Hallelujah! For
the Lord our God, the Almighty, reigns. 7 “Let us rejoice and be glad
and give the glory to Him, for the marriage of the Lamb has come and His bride
has made herself ready.” 8 It was given to her to clothe herself in fine
linen, bright and clean; for the fine linen is the righteous acts of the
saints.” Revelation 19: 6,7
I Love The Church because it is the
bride of Christ. With all its
imperfections it is the object of Christ’s affection. He has made her holy and pure. It is His death and resurrection that
prepares her for the wedding day. Life
is not made up of “Happily Ever Afters”, but it is the testing ground of our
faith and the preparation for the marriage of the Lamb. When that time comes, when the church walks
down the isle to meet her groom, all that will be seen is the glory of what God
has done to prepare her for that moment.
The past will have faded, the tears will have been wiped, the pain will
have been healed, and all sorrow turned to joy.
I love the church not because of what she is, but for what she will
become in Christ. I’m Just Saying…
(Continued).
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