Find me here at Your feet again
Everything I am, reaching out, I surrender
Come sweep me up in Your love again
And my soul will dance
On the wings of forever.
I never gave much thought to the song above besides a brief three day spell when the acoustic version was on literal repeat through my darling little studio apartment. (Studio apartments are horrid for entertaining but glorious for song obsessions – no matter where you go, you can hear the music. Living room? Music. Doing the dishes? Music. On the toilet? Music.) That’s how I am, though. OBSESSIVE, briefly. Don’t even get me started on the legendary “First Daughter” weekend of ‘05. TOO LATE. I watched it over and over, in English, French, Spanish, and with commentary. Have no fear: I took full advantage of the four glorious days Blockbuster gave us together. Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.
If I was lengthily obsessive, I would consider it a relatively worrisome character flaw; however, since it’s always brief obsessive spurts, I feel like there are more pressing matters to deal with concerning my character. To ease your fears, I promise haven’t seen “First Daughter” since.
But this past weekend, thousands of young adults and I sang “Touch the Sky” with Hillsong and I was reminded why I loved it during that three day spell.
That’s it. Sorry, Hillsong. I know you probably put a lot of time, effort, thought, and prayer into the lyrics of this song but I really just related to that one.
“Again” is probably the most fitting word to describe my relationship with Jesus. He is always and forever good. He always pursues. He always forgives. He always loves. If nothing else, Jesus is definitely the most constant booger around.
I, however, am not. I am consistently late, have VERY IMPORTANT opinions that change as quickly as the Tennessee weather, and fail at even the simplest personal goals like it’s my job.
“Find me here at your feet again because I really screwed up again, Lord. I know, I know, I’m here a lot. Sorry it’s so often in an apologetic state.”
“Come sweep me up in your love again because I know you’ve never stopped loving me, but I haven’t really been around to see it. I know you were loving me but I was pretty much ignoring you. I talked about you a lot and thought to myself ‘You really should hang out with Him some,’ but I didn’t because it seemed tedious and boring and I forgot what you were really like. You’re not tedious or boring at all. Life without you sure is though: somehow simultaneously mundane and overwhelming, the two worst things for life to be. Remind me that I’m loved again, Jesus. And help me love you better. Again.”
I screwed up again.
I forgot again.
I need you again.
I can’t tell you how many times “Get to know Jesus better” has been one of my resolutions for the New Year. Definitely no more than 23, due to the nature of birth, but probably somewhere close to that.
The beautiful thing about it, though, is that the answer to my “again” is “grace.” God’s grace isn’t “again.” It’s a one and done situation no matter how much I suck at believing it. I was baptized and it stuck, guys. I don’t have to pray a certain prayer or do a certain rain dance every time I hit another “again.” Jesus’ answer to my “again” is “always.”
Do I wish I had less agains? Yes. And through the Holy Spirit I really, really hope that they get fewer and farther between this year. But I know it’s going to happen again. I’m going to inevitably stumble off the mountain top and play contentedly with the dirt in the valley for a while. I’m going to inevitably hurt God’s heart more than once today, let alone this year. I’m going to inevitably spend more than one worship gathering distracted by what I need to do instead of completely engaged in the magnitude and beauty of our Father.
But as Levi Lusko said, “There is no Amazon Prime for sanctification.” It’s a process. It’s surrendering and repenting again every single day.
Jesus knew what He was getting into when He chose to love me. He individually looked at me, every annoying personality trait, every utter failure, every secret judgement and hidden ugly sin, every single reason for an “again” and He chose to love me anyway. He chose to die for me anyway. He specifically chooses every day to call me “daughter” anyway.
His love is vast and for the masses but it’s also individually and uniquely for you. Yes you, random human. And me.
And you may say yeah, yeah, you know that, but unless you are freaking the best at everything in this world and the next and have the hair of Jared Leto circa 2014, the heart of Mother Theresa, and the blankety-blank coolness of Emma Watson (trust me, the person I just described does not exist – you, as lovely as you are, are not that person) then you probably needed that reminder too.
I, for one, am pumped to be reminded of it. Again.