Her shoulders shook as we talked and her face quivered.

This jewel, this precious woman who has had to bear the weight of husband, vile and un-repentant.

She wonders if her children are safe, if maybe he has already done to them the unspeakable things he has watched online.

hideous. vile. dark.

Neither girl nor boy is safe from him. This shatters the heart and breaks the legs.

No wonder she quivers.

“I don’t pretend to know,” I whisper to her. “But I’m willing to believe.”

“He is un-loveable,” She tells me. “You may not see it at the surface, but he is.”

This I do know. I live with an un-lovely too.

The little girl who rejects, withdraws, refuses. The girl who will not get out of bed and embrace a family who loves her. A girl who would rather scrounge under the table for crumbs, hidden out of sight of family than accept a full plate from loving parents at the table with siblings.

I do know what it is like to love an un-lovely.

I say it again… “I’m willing to believe.”

“I’m willing to believe that Love covers a multitude of sins.”

As I speak, the Life in me blazes. In my case, I’ll believe that Love covers past sins of abandonment, rejection, neglect, and abuse in little girl’s life, sins that wounded deep and carry scars.

“I’ll believe Love has the power to redeem, restore, rescue, and re-build.”

“I’ll believe Love will take the darkest corner, the most hideous of hearts, the ugliest scars and bend them to its Beauty, stamp them with Love’s blood, and cleanse them from all unrighteousness.”

“I’m willing,” I whisper, “if you are.”

She shakes and I ask, “Perhaps we were given to each other for this purpose?”

“Not many have Love’s demands placed on them in such measure,” I tell her. She nods and KNOWS and bubbles over.

“I don’t know what it is like for you,” I say. “But I do know what love’s demand is like. It hurts. It’s hard. Its path is un-clear. It must hope all things and believe all things.”

“I don’t know what it looks like!” She is desperate, needing direction.

“Right now, that isn’t important,” I tell her. “Right here, right now, ‘Are you willing?’ Are you willing to believe that Love Himself has beckoned you to be His hands to minister blessing; His feet to run to the aid of another; His mouth to speak life to a hopeless soul?”

“Are you willing to believe that Love has chosen you to manifest Himself to… and through… and in?”

The words hit me hard. Even as they breathe out, they breathe in. The Breath of Life.

“Are you willing?”

For Love seeks hands and feet, flesh and blood, a body to express His love through. And He has chosen me.

It’s a holy and sacred invitation.

“No one has seen God at any time, but if we love, God abides in us, and His love is perfected in us.” I John 4:12

It carries a cost….being emptied of all else. Of all rights and reasonings. Of all fear and self and human understanding and weakness and excuses.

We need not know how. We needn’t have all the answers and the action plan.

It simply starts by being willing.

My friend said yes.

I say yes.

How about you? Are you in for love being perfected?


One Comment on “Willing”

  1. Emma says:

    I needed to read this today. Thank you.

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