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This Morning

This Morning
Posted By: Michelle Diane on November 06, 2009


Trust in me with all your heart and lean not to your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge me and I will direct your paths.

Ladies, let me ask you something straight up. When you love a man, really love a man, ain’t that the way you love him? Don’t you bypass, ignore, whatever it takes to overcome your fear and invest your hope/trust in him? Don’t you adapt yourself confidently to his lead? I love like that; it’s all about that man. Submission isn’t a concept requiring definition or negotiation; it is the desire and good pleasure of my heart. Yours? I know ya’ll know what I’m talking about; you be walking around on clouds humming love songs in your head and can’t nobody wipe that silly grin off your face.

Well, after loving another some man like that and enduring a brand new manifestation of the same old destructive dysfunction, I did what any well churched independent sista would do. I crawled way deep up in my Bible. Ain’t it funny how fast we run to God when ain’t nothing else working? I’m just asking you, because the Spirit keeps asking me. Anyway, I don’t know about you, but I use the Word as much as a cave as I do a sword and I was looking for a place to hide and lick my wounds.

Then a few weeks back I started hearing love songs in my head. One refrain in particular, “I could love you like that, give you the world. Move heaven and earth if you were my girl”, wouldn’t go away. Anybody know the tune I’m talking about? Please tell me what it is; it’s all I heard/hear and it brings tears to my eyes. Anyway, when the love songs started, I assumed it was abused woman syndrome and I was pining for the husband who played Marine Psych Ops games with my head for 6 years and then summarily abandoned me.



I’ve been there done that, too many times, and I thought I knew the love songs were the manifestation of my longing for the familiar – pain, rage, chaos and all. I want you to know I used my tools and fought valiantly to chase the love songs and their perceived implications from my head and heart. They wouldn’t go away, especially that one (somebody pleeeeease tell me what it is), they just got louder and a lot more persistent.

I’m telling ya’ll I know when to holla help; this time it came in heaping servings of Creflo Dollar and Steve Harvey combined with a slow steady drip of Iyanla Vanzant and I realized the voice I heard singing wasn’t my own. It wasn’t my fear or my pain; it wasn’t my loneliness or a covert attempt at emotional suicide. I noticed the stillness where throbbing had been and realized it wasn’t me. Then my girl Natasha insisted I read The Shack – I’m telling ya’ll its leaven – and I realized I knew the voice. I realized every time I’ve set up another some man to disappoint me, abuse me and break my heart, I run bleeding and broken back to the same man. I do it because he’s safe; he’s always there. He loves, protects and nurses me back to strength; he never judges or protests when I go gallivanting off for another ring around the mountain.

Did ya’ll get that Jesus is a man? I didn’t. Well I did on an ethereal level, but a sing me to sleep, whisper “trust me” in my ear man? Hosea and Gomer came to heart and mind. And nope, I really didn’t understand. Want you to know, this morning, I’m just so grateful for the wonder of it all. An exceedingly patient man reminded me that through the storm, through the night love stands steadfastly by, that without judgment or expectation love simply and unceasingly loves you. I just stopped by to remind you.
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