*For the month of July, my weekly travel journal is taking the place of my monthly lookback. Next month, I will continue my lookback posts (and include some of my reads from July ;))*
Why? I wonder as rain wears away at the soft cushion of grass. Why have I lost what I had? Why is my love so cold? Why has confusion swept over me?
A stale breeze blows through my room. The countless droplets pound the pavement just as my questions plunder my heart. Maybe I was never truly saved. Maybe he has left me. Troubled, I twist my ring around my finger until it slips off. I glance down at the simple metal band, and run my hand over the inscription. Promise.
On the other side is a silver cross colored in with a fine black ink. As worn as the symbol is, it seems too simple, to clean to represent such a cost. The cross of my hope is not cleanly decorated with black ink but splattered with blood and tears. I wonder if what I’m truly questioning is not my own commitment, but the commitment of Christ.
The lengths he took, the lashes, the thorns, the cruelty, to win my freedom, to win my love-how can all of that be canceled by my doubts? Does my weak love take one thorn from his crown or one drop from his brow? Are my questions enough to tear me such a firm embrace? If he bore that cross for me, would he allow his sacrifice to be in vain?
My head spins with new questions, not of my love for him, but of his for me. Ashamed, I bow my head; His heart is fervent, but my heart barely beating. For a moment, the rush of droplets drowns out my thoughts.
If he so loves me, will he not hold on to me? Will he not fill me with his same love? He has promised so. For now, I hold fast. I peer down at my ring once more: promise.
Not only has he pledged himself to me, but I chose, on a day unknown to my memory, to be his, whatever may come. I am bound to him for life, by an unbreakable vow, feelings or no feelings; I can not leave. In humble assurance, I slip the ring back on my finger, a fading symbol of my forever vow.