I had a moment today. It was one of the most powerful and overwhelming things I’ve ever felt, and only being able to explain it in my simple, elementary words only makes my point.
I’m sure everyone bothering to read this already knows that I’m involved in a production of Hairspray. (This post isn’t about Hairspray, so if that kind of talk annoys you, you can keep reading.) I haven’t been involved in a show since my grand debut as a plate in Beauty and the Beast six years ago, and community theater is a whole new experience for me. I had no idea the cast of people I would meet or how much they would mean to me. Being at daily rehearsals, having fun, and handling stress creates an environment where love and conflict coexist, just like a family. This is just the context for the moment I had today. All the new, amazing people in my life who are so different and each perfectly unique.
I was thinking about the show and my show family, when suddenly my heart was ten sizes too small. And not just because of them, but because of like, everyone. There was light breaking my heart apart because it couldn’t contain it. I locked myself in the office bathroom and, not knowing what to do, did something I have only been compelled to do a few times in my life – I fell to my knees and tried to cry out to the Lord all the things my soul was trying to say.
Uncontained, inexplicable, don’t-know-what-to-do-with-it LOVE.
Faces came to my mind, and all I could feel was that it’s not important to me that they change a thing. It’s not important to me that they reciprocate. It’s not important to me that they acknowledge. All that matters is that they feel and know this love. And I know that Jesus is burdening me with love. He was pouring out on me what it feels like to painfully, perfectly love someone who doesn’t know you. Someone who thinks that they would need to change themselves to be accepted by Jesus. Someone who doesn’t want to know Jesus because of the rumors they’ve heard about Him. Someone who doesn’t understand that God’s love for them is blind and reckless. Someone who can’t believe.
Jesus’ love doesn’t give up, even when it isn’t accepted. But it doesn’t go anywhere. It’s a contained, uncontainable love. It turns into pain. It turns into hot, burning tears. It turns into moans and cries that I felt in my soul but could not utter. For a moment. It lasted one moment.
I hate to think that with me, the flow of love stops. But it’s true. I am so helpless to love others. I can be overwhelmed with this feeling, but it won’t translate. I can see them beautifully with the eyes of Jesus, while they are totally unaware of the adoration He has for them. It is simply a burden, but one I would never give back. When my life is filled with other people, my need for God expands because there is no where else to turn when I need Him to love people how they need to be loved. I am so grateful for this clarity of my powerlessness and His strength, but it makes me so desperate. I wish Jesus would overwhelm them as He did me, even for a moment. I wish, I wish, I wish. Because this love is contained that cannot be contained, and it is a burden. It is painful. It drove Jesus to the cross to say, “I can’t take it anymore! Know my love! This is how much I love you!”
Oh, please know that. Please accept that.
There is someone I’ve prayed for for years, saying, “Whatever it takes.” Lord, whatever it takes from me, from You, from others, from life’s circumstances, let him know who You are. Now I pray that for so many more, and for many I haven’t met yet. The burden is greater. I can’t even.
Oh my God, I love people so much! I need them to be happy. I need them to be well. Make them happy. Make them well, body, mind, and soul.