Beloved

It was a Sunday. I skipped church.

Desperate for time with God, just me and Him.

I went to the place where I feel most at home, and more importantly, most alone with God: Starbucks.

At my table, basking in the sunlight, for four hours straight, I asked Him questions.

I needed to know if I was lovable.

There have been times {many times} when I've felt otherwise.

I asked God, "Are you proud of me?"

Then I closed my eyes real tight. I knew that God could speak.

I saw the image of a crown. It was silver, complete with pink & purple jewels - like a little girl crown, but nicer.

Okay, God, that's so cliche. I don't have to be made to feel like a princess or anything. I want to know - from your Word - if you're proud of me.

Then a verse came to mind like magic.

Isaiah 61:3: to grant to those who mourn in Zion - to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord; that he may be glorified.

{emphasis obviously mine}

I was floored. God not only gave me the image of the crown, but then He directed me to that very image in the Scriptures. My God truly wows me (and this is a small thing for Him).

Is He proud of me?

Oh, yes. Proud of His work in me. Of His Son in me, the hope of glory.

One Sunday, upon hearing the voice of God, I experienced His love.