I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing blogging right now

But tonight, He reminded me of Love.

It's funny the way that His Love turns aside pride. It doesn't need to shout out against pride, or directly attack pride. But when His Love comes in, pride makes it's exit. His Love is humbling that way, a gentle way.

It's like this hurricane, this violent, violent storm of Love. And we're holding on to trees, holding on to signposts rooted in the ground, shouting out into the storm "no wait! hold on! I'm not ready! I'm still so sinful! I'm still not right yet! I'm imperfect, I'm flawed, I'm not enough! I'm not ready for you to see me!"

But it's too great. This wind, this force of grace says "well frankly my dear, I don't care." This love is too great for you to care about your insecurities, about your inadequacies, about your worries and fears and doubts, about you not being enough. The weight of His mercy is too much for us to keep grasping at our 'what if's and 'but wait's.

And as the rain of Love pelts our faces and the sheer pulling of grace causes us to lose our hold on the things we've bound ourselves to, we feel like we're losing control, like we're surrendering.

And it's a terrifying moment. Suddenly we're vulnerable, out in the open, being caught up in something that is so much greater and stronger than anything we've ever come into contact with. And it's terrifying.

But all of a sudden, we realise that this hurricane of Love enfolds us. And we're floating in it, the powerful wind blowing off the chains around us, the Love bombards us, washing off the marks and scars of sin. And for once, we're so vulnerable yet so held; so high above the ground yet so safely floating. And although we feel more open than we've ever felt in our lives, we feel more complete than we've ever been.

The hurricane doesn't slow, but it drops us slowly back onto the ground, back in the direction, the path that we're supposed to take.