I fear it’s very wrong of me
And yet I must admit
When someone offers friendship
I want the whole of it.
I don’t want everybody else
To share my friends with me.
At least, I want one special one,
Likes me much more than all the rest,
Who’s always on my side.
Who never cares what others say,
Who lets me come and hide
Within his shadow, in his house —
It doesn’t matter where —
Who lets me simply be myself,
Who’s always always there.
I have been so thankful for the refining journey God is taking me on through marriage. Over and over I’m reminded we were created for fellowship (with one another, as well as with God) and marriage is the lovely way He provides for that basic need to be met.
I used to be offended (almost) at the insistence that marriage is hard work. It sounded too much like complaining, and complaining seemed nearly blasphemous, or, at least, to be begging for trouble (Oh, you think that’s hard, huh?).
My image has shifted slightly since then. Now it’s more like comparing marriage to a garden. A garden takes work to prepare and maintain, but that’s no shame; that’s what distinguishes it from the wilderness.
I have become a different (and better) person because of Jay, and that’s in God’s plan. For every believer our ultimate goal is to become more Christ-like, and knowing our good God, he is going to assist that process in the way most effective for each of us.
The sentiment in that poem is reflective of my (basically) selfish nature. It wasn’t until I was married, though, that God let me know a part of it was okay. He designed us this way, and uses it (as he does so many things) to reveal another aspect of himself.
This reminder of God’s jealous nature for his people (including me!) should be very sobering, and even encouraging (if that’s the right word). It shows me a different type– or maybe it’s just a different side– of the love that died for me.