My favorite nights are what I call “some nights”.
Some nights, when I sit with my Bible in my lap, I find that God’s love has never changed.
I feel as if I’m reading the words for the first time, honestly, with some shame that they seem so new. But in a moment, shame is consumed by the grace of God, and as if with the turn of a page, pools of forgiveness render me speechless as they spill out upon my fingertips, marking me, “Blameless”.
Some nights, I discover again that His love is big—much deeper than the shallow efforts I make. I realize that only by His love can I attempt to share it. In those late hours, I realize I am wading in a river of grace, and I cannot neglect the invitation He offers me. Not to simply endure have I been asked, but to learn to love in the enduring.
Some nights, I look into my secret heart, and ask, “Did you learn to love? Did you set your eyes on Jesus? Because if you did, you would be compelled beyond the borders of reason, beyond the limits of logic, to a place where His love is your meditation, your breath, your sustenance—a place where that love is all you know to share.”
Some nights, this whisper continues, “In the desert of rejection, you drink the depths of God’s peace. In the dungeon of despise, you see the light of God’s forgiveness, blinding the bars from your sight. You glisten with the tears of joy in His likeness, not because you share in His suffering, but because you share in His love amidst suffering.”
Lately, I’m finding that “some nights” are becoming irresistibly more regular.