Blacktops and Beiber Fever...

"When he found one of great value, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it." -Matthew 13:46

"You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down." -It's a Wonderful Life

"For You I sing I dance. I rejoice in this divine romance." -Phil Wickham, Divine Romance

Her name was Brittany Hamilton, and I'm pretty sure she was perfect. Well, at least to a second-grader at Steele Lane Elementary School she was. She had dirty blonde hair and a "10-out-of-10" smile. She danced at the talent shows and was a killer tetherball player.

She was my first crush.

Everybody has a Brittany Hamilton. The guy or girl that showed you maybe cooties weren't SO bad and that there might be something to this whole "cute" thing. Don't get me wrong. Girls still had cooties and the idea of kissing one of them was still the only thing scarier than taking a bath. But there was still just something about her. And although I couldn't admit it for fear of being totally weird, I had a crush and was head over heels in love.

Well, as much as a seven-year-old can be I suppose.

Back then, I would go so far out of my way for her to notice me that I would've taken the route through Minnesota to get from Santa Rosa, California to Honolulu. I had it bad. When recess came around, I would skip in line to be partnered up with her for tetherball. When Mrs. Winstead had us create an acrositc poem about our best friend in writing class, I chose Brittany (and then had to explain why my cheeks turned a brighter red than any cherry when we had to present it.) There's even a picture in my parents' house of me and some friends at an awards ceremony that I had them blow up and frame because she was in the corner of the picture. It's still there I promise.

But I knew I'd arrived when, for about two weeks of the school year, she chased ME around the blacktop at recess. She could've chased anyone, but she chased ME! It was over. I was ready to drop my bachelor ways and invite her to Skate Night at the ice rink.

From that point on, my second-grade life had one purpose: making Brittany Hamilton fall in love with me. I would do whatever it took. Subtlety has never been my gift, but it was wasn't even in my vocabulary at this point. I threw caution to the wind in the maddening pursuit of even a smile.

The funny thing is, even as we get older, things haven't changed much. Most days I'm a hall-of-famer in the sport of tripping over myself and stumbling through my words around a cute girl.

But more than anything, that's the way I want to fall madly in love with the God whose love I will never earn but always have.

You see, daily I want to fall madly in love with God so much that I would stumble all over myself to be with him and love his children. I want to be so starry-eyed by his presence that the men with the white jackets would have to come check me out. I want to fall so head over heels for my creator that chasing after anything else seems a little... blah.

I think of the girls with the most contagious disease known to doctors today: "Beiber Fever." There is no question about their affections. And it permeates every corner of their lives. Their backpacks. Their haircuts. Their iPod playlists. Their words. The weight of their parents' wallets. It's about showing the world how much they love the Beibs (and confession, "Baby" is on my playlists. Luda.) But that's what I'm talking about. A love that permeates every place in my heart and my thoughts. A yearning that blesses my work and my friends and my significant others and my ultimate frisbee playing.

I hear the words of Jesus and Deuteronomy to love the Lord with all my heart and soul and mind and strength. You see, I love God to the bottom of my core. I am enraptured by him. But when I think of Brittany Hamilton, I realize that I would've done anything to have her.

But here is an important distinction between Yahweh and Brittany Hamilton: my love for the Father is not to earn his love, but rather because of his love. It is not out of guilt or a sense of earning. No, I want to be so caught up in the Father's love that there is no other response, because there is no sweeter taste than the love of the infinite and perfect creator and redeemer.

Jesus tells a story about a pearl. A merchant is looking for pearls, and when he finds one, he sells EVERYTHING he has to buy it.

EVERYTHING!

It's because the pearl is so beautiful, so precious to him. That is my father's love. I want to be so caught up in awe and wonder and love of that love that nothing else seems good enough. And in turn, I want a love that shines, that people notice. You know, that sparkle in the eye of someone desperately lost in affection. A sparkle that not only brightens my every step, but the lives of each and every single one of my neighbors.

Brittany Hamilton was my first great love story. But there is an infinitely deeper and more beautiful story being written each day over me, and I want to jump in with both feet off the high dive. Here's to love.

forever unfinished...