My daughter came home a smurf the other day. She and a friend were covered in dry powder paint from a fabulously messy event called Color Games. As she shook out her hair, colored dust billowed through the afternoon air. She giggled as she grabbed me and smothered me in a paint powder hug.
My reaction was to push away.
I didn’t want my tank top ruined. Who knew if it was washable paint?
This is how I react naturally to the idea that God loves me—ALL of me. I push it away because Christ is messy, bloody, and the resurrection stirs something so desperately redeemed, I can barely stand it. It brings me to tears even now.
Paint is what I love to give my kids on lazy afternoons so they can texturize and run their fingers in lavish colors.
Turns out, my daughter’s paint was not completely washable.
That’s the point of love. We experience it, so it sticks under our nails and in our very fibers.
This post is Day 2 of 31 Days of Five Minute Free Writes 2016.