I have always craved more. More love, more beauty, more connection, and more experiences. Before embracing Christianity, this translated into turning to destructive behavior in an attempt to reach some height of euphoria and completeness.
I wanted something greater.
I had a deep sense that there was more that I was not experiencing. A gut longing for the euphoric transcendent moments that unite and elevate us. A craving for satisfaction and fullness. A sense that there is a secret undercurrent- a melody, thriving and pulsating that I could not tap into. I deeply felt the hole in my heart and wanted it filled.
I tried. I tried all the cheap ways. And they did not work.
Initially, Christianity did not do it for me either. The story felt flat and lifeless because it was told without the romance that is so central to its narrative.
I wanted more. A greater story. Bigger, deeper- a manifesto – a giant splash of a color to add immeasurable dimension. I wanted to be connected to a giant soul crushingly beautiful story that could elevate my life into something that was full, bursting with joy and pushed the status quo.
It was not until the story of Christ was told by people that were leaking out the fullness of Christ that I craved everything Jesus provides. I only needed to watch them live differently in a wholeness and joy that did not come from cheap thrills but a lasting source.
I tapped into the greatest symphonic narrative you could ever wish to find.
The most romantic story the world will ever hear. But it was only through those romanticizers that the story filled the hole in my heart. Faith can be an intellectual pursuit but it was not for me. It was deeply emotional. The most emotionally charged experience I will ever have.
I always cry when I listen to “Your Hand in Mine” by Explosions in the Sky. I feel like it so perfectly tells the story of how Christ pursued me. There were twists and turns. I ran and fell. He stayed and waited. I turned and accepted. He pulled me out into something greater. More full and beautiful. Bigger. Transcendent.
So, my point is this- romanticize the story.
Tell the story from a place of deep emotion. Give it all the crescendo it evokes. Speak with tears in your eyes. And if words do not do it justice point to songs, moments, books, and art that point back to the romance of Christ.
Open the wound and re-live those moments for others. It’s scary and painful, but it is the only way.
Let’s worry less about perfectly reciting the Gospel and more about accurately exposing those wounds and longings that Christ healed in us.
Romanticize it. Cry. Get personal.
Your hand in His.
