Four: Love

She ripped a petal off on a flower. Whisper. Petal. Whisper. Petal. He loves me not. She kept walking and tossed the naked flower to the side. Conversations from weeks past resonated within her mind, forcing her to re-live each moment. He loves me not. She squeezed her eyes shut but the faces were still real. She didn’t want to remember… she needed to forget. He loves me not. She sighed and kept putting one foot in front of the other, willing herself forward. She didn’t need to turn around to know that he was following her, that he was listening. He loves me not. Why did every footstep resonate those words? Stop. Turn.

A simple glance into his gentle eyes was all it took. Watered eyes turned into sobs and soon she couldn’t breathe. He took a step closer, led her to a bench and let her cry. And cry. It could have been hours, it could have been minutes. His fingers found her face and lifted her chin… forcing their eyes to meet.

“I know you want me to talk,” she whispered, averting her eyes, “but I can’t talk to you when I’m so… so unworthy. Everything you’ve given me, showed me and done for me—it’s more than I deserve or could ever repay. Your love…” She bit her lip and choked back some tears.

“I want to want your love more than I want life… more than anything. But I don’t. Why can’t wanting something bad enough be good enough? Yet every time I turn to you something… or someone pulls my heart away. Everything in me wants to believe you when you say you’re all I need, but something doesn’t. I find myself doubting every time and every time I want to be filled. Can’t you just fill me without waiting for me to believe it inside and out?

“If your love is really that good and that satisfying, then why am I still empty? Will my desire to follow you and be filled by you ever be satisfied? I don’t want to keep running on half-empty.”

She leaned away and picked a new flower. Petal. Whisper. Petal. Whisper.

“Why do I keep asking this question? Why aren’t your answers enough? I don’t want to feel useless and worthless. I want you. I don’t want to be a flower picked and tossed away. I want you. I’m sick of clinging to plastic pearls. I want you. But why isn’t wanting you enough? Why is it never enough?”

Jesus didn’t answer right away. He picked a flower…Petal. Whisper. Petal. Whisper.

I love you.