Nothing compares to the moment . . . In the blink of a tear I went from a bride, to mother of the bride, mother of the groom three times, to gramma of the groom. Time passes quickly.
That’s how Jesus awaits us . . . a sigh and holy breath waiting to receive His pure bride in future bliss. We are spoken for. Engaged to royalty, set apart to be a holy bride.
The elegant beauty of the barefoot bride walking down a meadow aisle, lined with bridesmaids and wildflowers, suspender-ed groomsmen, hay bale pews on the edge of the creek bed, decorated with sheep in green pastures on a generational farm . . . simply picture perfect.
But, what about what took place before the meadow nuptials? Months of preparation, weeks of getting ready . . . bridal showers and feasts, all while trying to be the perfect weight to embrace the perfect dress, keep the perfect hair from August drench-humidity to frame the perfect makeup . . .
But no, simple beauty is all we see.
The braiding of the three-strand cord laid at the foot of the wooden cross, covenant vows of faithfulness, the father’s blessing-prayer over his daughter and her groom, and communion . . . nothing compares to the moment.
We occupy the heart of our Betrothed. We are splendor to Him. Although we know that we are His bride (you too, guys), sometimes it feels like we’ve been stood up at the altar,
. . . but, He’s coming!
Congratulations to Japheth & Rachel