The Story of a Friend

A friend of mine (a friend I’d consider close) told me a story the other day. The story is true, and it’s beautiful. It’s been running through my head since he told me it. So, I’ll do my best to re-tell it here:

She’s a mother, not married and therefore cast off by the church. Because her sin is so visible: it runs and jumps and plays and laughs and sings (but to call a child a sin is a travesty, she’s no sin, she’s a joy, but the church see the scarlet 'A' not the beauty of a little life).

Sure the act was wrong, but a thousand times over the heart of the woman had repented and wept for the forgiveness, which is so freely hers in Jesus. But to see that forgiveness played out in tangible ways was something she didn’t know (aside from family).

He was a band man. Playing, singing, rocking.

How they met I can’t tell you. How they fell in love, I’d assume it was gradual and both hearts were hesitant. But nonetheless love came.

Then it came, a time for a ring. But not just one ring, no there are two rings in this story. One for both of this man’s loves. One for his future wife and one for his future daughter.

I can imagine the scene now, “My little love?”

“Yes.” Comes the small girl’s voice.

The man kneels to one knee, “Will you be my daughter? And my dear, will you be my wife?”

Forgiven. Not just forgiven, but loved. Not just loved, but loved to the point of sacrifice. Not just sacrificed for but taken wholly into the loving embrace of a man.

            

This is a perfectly clear picture of Jesus and how he redeems us broken.