By Sarah (Living Between the Lines)
In life, there are these rare but brilliant moments in time when you know that you have experienced something special and unspeakable… Sitting on the porch of a cabin in the woods, listening to the raindrops slapping the leaves. Watching snow fall during the quiet dark of the middle of the night. Swinging in a hammock with your eyes closed, feeling the hot breeze move across your face while the crickets and frogs screech and scream at each other…
One day last August, I came home from work at the end of one of the hottest days of the year in Eastern North Carolina. It was the kind of heat that could almost melt your tractor tires, but the local farmers had spent the day harvesting and so I could see the dust lingering in the almost-breezeless air. As I pulled into my driveway, the sun sank behind the trees, leaving behind only a faint puff of pink afterglow. I sat behind my steering wheel, watching the pink fade to dark and I felt like a child who had been told a secret. But what was the secret? It was at the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t quite reach it.
Out of the car and into the house behind my overexcited dog, I took one last look over my shoulder at the spot where the sun had exited the sky and I heard the whisper: “It’s My love song to you.” I heard a gnat buzzing at my ear and quickly swished him away and pushed the door shut.
What do You mean, Lord?
The brilliant little moments. They are all notes in My love song to you.
Shortly after Christ and I began our relationship, I was set up on a blind date. I was a college student and my date was a very nice young man. Very polite. A young, conservative, pre-law student. I enjoyed meeting him, but wasn’t remotely interested in dating him for the simple fact that he was not a Christian. As he walked me to my car that night, I thanked him for a good time, told him that it was nice to meet him, but that I was not interested in dating him. He was pleasant and asked if we could remain friends.
Over time, I learned that my non-Christian friend was sweet, kind, and caring. He continued to show interest in me. For a while, when he would ask me out, I would tell him no and give him lists of reasons. But each time he asked, my list of reasons was shorter. Soon, I couldn’t remember why I was so unwilling to date him. And then, one night after playing video games together with friends, when he asked me out, I said yes.
As soon as I said yes to him, I knew it was wrong. But I didn’t know how to take it back. I thought that I would go on one date with him and end it, but it didn’t happen that way. We took a nice friendship and over the space of a few months, turned it into a nightmare. He couldn’t understand me. I couldn’t understand him. He hated my friends. I didn’t have anything in common with his friends. We didn’t like any of the same music or movies or books. I tried to break up with him several times. Each time, he talked me out of it. At one point he started talking about marriage, but I told him no. My Christian friends were advising me to break up with him. My boyfriend was begging me to try to work it out. My head was telling me one thing; my heart was telling me another. As great as this guy was, I wished I had never met him—and it was my own fault.
I felt like I was losing my mind and I pulled out my pen and paper to write about it. Since I was a kid, I have written letters to God. And truly, He was the person I most wanted to talk to—that I felt so desperately far away from. So, I wrote Him this Love Song:
I am writing this
love song
for you,
but it can’t make up for my
unfaithfulness.
Words like band aids
don’t heal
the hurt
of the repeated offenses
that I
commit.
Apologies
mean nothing
when actions
contradict.
You always listen
to the excuses,
loving me
even as I
lie to us both–
saying that you
are The One.
We
both know better.
I try to blame you;
to believe that if you
spoke loudly enough
then I
would love you
more.
I can’t blame you.
I know that he
is a temporary obsession
and you
are the permanent solution
to my divided heart.
You stand back
waiting for me
to see you,
come to you,
promise myself
to you.
The love song
I offer is the truth:
I want to want you
more than I
want him.
Love Song didn’t “fix” things with God, but it helped me to be honest with myself about what was happening. The whole relationship was less than six months, but it left me with some serious bruises and scars. But at the same time, that one, simple, mediocre poem showed me a new side of God and a new way to relate to Him. And it taught me to be completely open and honest with Him, even when the truth is painful and ugly.
I recently received some earth-shattering news about a friend. I spent some time praying about it, but mostly, I laid in my bed and cried. Through my tears, I said, “Lord, please come hold me. I need You to come hold me.” There were no miraculous signs and wonders. The peace that night was slow in coming—but it did come. The days have passed normally—slowly. God hasn’t given me any huge answers written in the sky or delivered by an angel. But when I open my eyes, I realize that He gives me small, brilliant moments. And when I put the notes together, I have a beautiful Love Song that He wrote just for me.
“For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favor is life: weeping may endure for a night,
but joy cometh in the morning.” – Psalm 30:5 KJV
Sarah Salter is a missionary and a writer who works in full time ministry. She believes that God has called her to be transparent and show the world Who He Is by letting them see how He works in her life. From that belief was born her little home on the web: Living Between the Lines. Sarah lives in Central North Carolina with her best friend: a sixty pound lap dog named Sadie.