A mess

For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes: first to the Jew, then to the Gentile. – Romans 1:16

I stared at this verse for a long time. I’m not ashamed of the gospel, I thought to myself.

But sometimes, I am. Sometimes, I feel like I love Jesus a little too much.

I’ve never said that out loud.

I feel like it scares men away. For every man that says they want a woman who loves Jesus, there’s a deep truth that what they really want is a well-behaved woman who reads her bible, goes to community group and sings in the church worship band.

Not girls like me.

  • I’m the girl who left her home in the middle of the night because God asked me too. It saved my stepdad’s life. It saved my life.
  • I’m the girl who led bible studies in the kids’ playroom of a gym in secret because some of the kids wanted to learn how to read the bible.
  • I’ve shared Jesus over Ramadan meals with refugee families and gave my last amount of food to someone who needed it more than me.

I love Jesus. He is my dearest friend and confidant.

A man I loved once told me that he hoped that the man who marries me would love my heart for the gospel as much as he did.

I never forgot that.


The reality is that we can have a whole list in our head of the ideal mate. We critique potential options, evaluate every word that comes out of their mouths, what they wear, how they carry themselves but that’s ultimately self-preservation.

Real love happens organically. It’s a daily choice to lay down your cross and walk into another person’s mess.

Real love changes us. It forces us to alter habits and look inward.

Sometimes, I wish I could tone down the Jesus talk but I love Him so damn much.

When I finally meet the guy that’s equally yoked in that way, his heart will be enough to get a cup of coffee with. I believe that.


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