I often wonder if God could write me just one story, one I could relate to with my limited understanding of the universe, creation and life itself, what would it look like?
How would He express His plans, goals or ideals to me? How would He instil purpose or create a basis for ongoing conversation that I would grasp in all my simplicity?
What If God wrote me a story of a precious and perfect bride? She was unmatched in the glory of her being; the only thing in all creation fitting for the Son of a God. It was a match made in heaven, literally.
As with any good story, the antagonist tells her stories of freedom and life lived by his way. A life free of bondage and chains where she would be free to choose as her heart desires.
He writes of how she chose another way. She did not want to marry the Son. She wished to write her own destiny. She travelled far and wide, away from the castle and the kingdom. She was distracted, her skin wrinkled and bronzed as she walked through the desert in the glaring sun looking for a place to rest her head.
Sometimes she gained a twinkle in her eye, maybe even glistening hope. Never did it last too long before the truth was rekindled by the bitter lady called fate. She found no rest, she lost her soul.
All the while the King had sent out messengers across the desert to find her. Each time they did, she sent them back with a resentful and self-sufficient, ‘No!’ Then, silence… for a long time the King left her to her own devices. He spoke not a word to the messengers. No, instead he spoke to His Son. No more riders were sent out, for the Son was to come.
He found her a slave to a master she chose. He paid with His life or so I suppose. So great a price for the bride to return again to the King; one He would gladly pay to see her again.
Now was the time to prepare the bride for the feast and the wedding. Bath in oils and creams she did until the inner beauty shone again through her skin. Slowly the glint in her eyes returned. Every time she sees a mirror more of her old self returns.
In anticipation she starts to await her Groom. Somehow He must have escaped from Mt. Doom. Standing at the altar shining like the sun; she is ready to choose again, this time wiser than before.
This is the story to me God might write, if He could, or would, or might. To showcase His love and majesty. To reveal to me my glory and beauty. No matter the consequences of a previous choice, He will give me another always.
I am his bride, created and perfected for his Son, the subject of a story written in the hearts of history.