I was just sitting here at my parents house and my mom is crying and I'm thinking.
How I don't understand love. How I don't understand grace. I can't put love and grace into boxes. They are beautifully mind-bending and at times heart-breaking. They frustrate me because I cannot categorize or crush them enough to fit into a neat, clean, and safe box.
It frustrates me because they never play by the rules I think they should and they never fit into any formula that I try and make them bend to.
And I love that.
They are much too messy and big and raw and rough and uncontrollable and real to be something that I could have created in my own little head.
They don't play by my rules and as furious I get that I can't control them--I am so thankful that I can't.
This is why I believe in Yahweh. Jesus is a thrumming, living, dangerous, loving, furious, wild, and real person that has come plowing into my life and I will never be the same.
I believe in Jesus because I would have not created a King like this in my own head. I would not give grace to everyone and I would focus more on works than love. I would not love myself as I am. I want to earn what I have...but dead people can't save themselves. I would not have created such a dangerous, furiously loving, wild, uncontrollable, thrumming with life, Rabbi.
And this is why I love Him with every fiber of my being.