Karen Writes: Lover of my Soul

Do you know that song? It goes like this:

Jesus, lover of my soul.....

I'm not sure what comes next. My brain hears those five words and hovers there, awestruck, while the congregation sings on.

If you saw the state of my soul you would understand why. It's a dark, cranky place, filled with lots of me, focused on me, generally working toward what is best for me . That Jesus could love Karen, I get. He's God. So yeah, okay, I can conceive that He, in all his perfection, can love anyone he chooses.

But to love my soul? To be the lover of my soul? That indicates an active, ongoing state of love, the internal workings of which I cannot conceive. It leaves me awestruck. It does.

So Molly and I have been strolling the local neighborhoods this week, attempting to photograph early spring blooms (without being arrested for trespassing) for a post about...well, I guess about what God's creation says about Him. It moves me, and I had hoped to capture it so that you might be moved, too.

(Insert apology for horrible photography skills here.)

My hyacinth photograph--taken from the edge of someone's lawn while they stared out the front picture window at my sniffy dog and me.

Or, to grasp the point I'm trying to make, click here and check out these hyacinths.

There. Do you see what I'm getting at? A bunch of little flowers as a flower. The creativity of my God knows no bounds.

My daffodil photo, a respectable representation of the message of Hope (yes hope with a capital 'H') sent to us each year in the cold, early spring.

My shamefully bad photo of a magnolia tree. Awesome tree. Awesome God.

The cherry tree. We're surrounded by them now. Their beauty draws people to the DC area from the far corners of the earth. I can't see a cherry tree without thinking of Isaiah 55:8-9.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,”

declares the LORD.
“As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts."

But here is the flower that really gets me. This is the one that I see and understand that my God is wild. He cannot be tamed. He cannot be wrapped up neatly and placed in a little box with a pretty bow. Just as He is wild, so is His love for me. He's been pursuing me since I was a child, no matter how far I've run. His thoughts toward me are intentional, His plans for me good.