Facing every day with each other in mind means that our decisions impact each other.
Sometimes we make the wrong decisions—even in the small choices that reflect our character.
Our character is stained by sin, our brokenness can only be temporarily maintained until it begins to leak.
Life together is messy because if we’re closely knit, we will eventually spill our mistakes into each other’s life.
When you see his sin you embrace him. You are not God, you do not save him from his sin. Rather, you are a mirror in a sense. When you look at him you take in all of him, all of his flaws.
The longer you familiarize yourselves with each other, the less you are able to conceal any part of yourselves. Not that you’re actively hiding anything, but no one can prepare themselves for the invasive nature of true love. It is confrontational. It notices and addresses who you are. To let someone love you is to no longer conceal what you think will scare them away. To let someone love you means you must open yourself to exposure.
When he is invested in your life he will become familiar with your brokenness so thoroughly that he could trace your cracks. Yet in his willingness to trace your cracks, it must be evident that this is not an accusatory finger. Instead, as he’s experienced the grace of Christ, the finger that traces your sin does not pull away to point out your lack, but his hand turns palm up and with the tracing finger, he motions for you to come closer. His love engages you as Christ engages him. It does not exploit or inflict shame.
This is what it means to practically live in the restoring truth of the gospel—that whatever my condition, I am engaged and transformed by a love that sees the extent of my brokenness, yet doesn’t choose to walk away. He will not abandon you in the condition you were found.
That is the love of God—that we behold each other’s brokenness and respond in the same way Christ has acted towards us.
There is fruit growing,
but it has yet to ripen.
And if you pull the peach from her branches
before she is ready,
you will be met with tough skin and bitterness.
When you tear through her flesh
until you find the stone at her center,
you will not be refreshed.
Her skin will not fall off into your hands.
Juices, sweet, will not overflow from your lips
and down your chin to be wiped by your fingers
and sucked clean again.
Your eyes will not close in bliss and fulfillment
because unripe fruit cannot sustain you.
You will do nothing but sit, unsatisfied,
and wish you would have waited
until the peach was ready.