Feathers and True Love

I woke up to a completely gorgeous 59-degree morning. I must be turning into a good little Minnesotan because I am tired of wearing shorts and t-shirts. I’m ready to break out the jeans and cooler weather clothes. (Notice I didn’t say “cold weather” just “cooler weather.” I’m not that Minnesotan.)

Sometimes I am struck with the realization that God gives us everything we need exactly when we need it. The warm sun, the brief gust of wind or the gentle breeze, the 59-degree morning, the friendships and relationships in our lives, the rough days, the beautiful days. He is in control of it all. And He knows what we need better than we do.

I think that’s why we pray. There is more than one reason why we pray, but I think we pray because we are acknowledging that God holds all things in His hands. In praying, we are giving God full control and full credit. We present our requests to God, meaning we hand them over to Him. Here are my desires Lord; here are my requests. But I’m giving them to You because I trust You, because You know better than I do. And You have the best in mind. Even in praying for something as simple as a safe drive or healing from an illness, it’s completely out of our hands, so we hand it over to God because it is completely in His hands.

A couple months ago I got a feather tattoo on my left arm. It has several different meanings, but the simplest explanation of the image is that it represents freedom. A bird cannot hang onto its old and broken feathers if it expects to fly to the best of its ability. There is a season for acknowledging our brokenness and taking the time to heal, but then there comes a time to molt, to remove our broken feathers so that we can fly again.

In May I felt like I had finally arrived at this place of freedom, like my healing was complete for this season of my life. So I got the reminder permanently inked onto my body, and somehow that action resulted in: cue Satan, stage right. The joy-stealer. The one who makes you question everything you thought true. The one who intentionally drags you through the mud.

And so I looked at my feather tattoo and thought Was I wrong to think I was done healing from these particular wounds? Was I premature in displaying my freedom so blatantly? Satan would like me to think so. And even though I’ve made a permanent choice to be free from my past, Satan will throw doubts at me to get me to think otherwise.

But my freedom is permanent because Jesus died for it. And yes I have hurts, and yes I have healed, and yes I will have more hurts and more seasons of healing. But Jesus died for all that.

And it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around, because it is the most ultimate act of love. And love, true love, is puzzling and challenging and even uncomfortable because it’s foreign.

I sheepishly admit to you that the other day I was watching an episode of the Flash. The supposed villain of the episode turned out not to be a villain after all. Plot twist. Anyway, at the end he said, 

“Love is about letting yourself be saved, it’s not just about saving other people.”

I tend to think the opposite. I often think love is a one-way street. I think love is about doing for others. I expect others to receive love, but I don’t accpet it for myself. I struggle to receive love from other humans. I struggle to receive love from Jesus. I struggle to accept that He died for my freedom because of love.

Love is scary. It’s daring. It’s an adventure. It’s unlike anything else we have or will experience. And as long as I am in Christ, abiding in Him, I have every reason to ink my freedom onto my arm. And that inking doesn’t mean the past is gone. I can look at my feather and remember the past, because in remembering the past I become more aware, more humbled, more grateful for the love that Jesus is.