Your name’s engraved on His palms–always chosen

I’ve been holdin’ off on postin’ anything about Valentine’s Day today. Facebook and social media can be just terrible sometimes, can’t they? So very hard, lookin’ at everyone else’s “highlight reels,” comparin’ their color pictures to yours, and feelin’ like yours is monochromatic. Lonely gray.

Anyway. I’m one of those girls whose got a lover. God has blessed me, and I won’t insult the Lord or my husband by playin’ shy or actin’ like that’s no big deal. Because it is. But…

But I know that not everyone’s in that same place, and it’s all-y’all that I’m thinkin’ about today. Here’s somethin’ that I have learned.

It’s not just girls who get “unchosen.” It’s fellows, too. And Mr. Schrock and I, we know a few. The amount of pain they carry–well, there’s just no measuring stick for that. It’s a deep, black circle of hell that Daunte once drew up. Haven’t walked it, but I can sure see that truth.

So. Whether you’re a girl or a boy, a woman or a man, divorced, single, widowed; in any wise alone today, I want you to know one thing: that your name is written on His hands. On His palms, just like a lover’s tattoo.

What a precious, unshakable fact. What a picture of how very much we are loved. Sometimes, see, in the heat of love, in the rush of romance, a person’ll run out and get a name black-tatted on skin. Then things change. Swipe left! You’re gone, and you’re regrettin’ that permanent ink.

Not Him. Never Him. The ones He has chosen, He will never “unchoose.” He’ll never “swipe left.” He won’t walk away.

And His blood for us ran red. #alwayschosen