Loved.

As I walked downtown, a few crude men - excuse me, a few crude boys - made comments as I passed by. Though I'm a fighter, their comments and behavior made me walk faster and my heart race. Instantly I thought my skirt must either be too short or too tight or too low; I must have been walking provocatively or inappropriately or welcomingly; I must be too big to be invisible; I must have been asking for their attention.

But I wasn't.

I didn't do anything wrong. And suddenly I'm tied to the loads of garbage in their minds and hearts. And I didn't do anything wrong.

As I quickened my steps to my car, as my hands shook as I fumbled to get my key into the door, as my eyes moistened and I took a long exhale once inside, I found Him there. No, He found me. His Spirit wrapped me in His presence and reminded me that I am His chosen child, part of His bride, His love.

Jesus is showing me something new. Or maybe something old? I'm not sure. I have a feeling it's an old message that I'm now reading in new places. Jesus is showing me that His love is permanent. Just the way I am, Jesus loves me. He loved me just as I was in my sin, and yet He loves me enough to insist that I don't stay just as I am. Because He has something better.

I'm scared to let other love me a lot of times because I'm afraid of what it will cost me. I often worry that their love will mean I have to do something different with my hair, eat less or healthier, have different opinions or keep them to myself all together.

And sometimes that is true.

But that's not true love.

And that's not how it is with Jesus.

He loves me as I am now. In this skirt, tight or not. Drinking this coffee, healthy or not. Writing this entry, bitter or not. Thinking these thoughts, selfish or not. He loves me. Just as I am. Enough to not leave me like this. He loves me.

I love You, too, Master. I love you, too.