I want Proof

I want proof.

I hear about God’s love, I’ve heard about grace, I’ve been told I’ve been adopted, and I have listened to the voices saying they are with me and won’t leave my side. BUT, I want proof.

I want more.

I don’t believe it. It doesn’t make sense. My brain can’t comprehend this form of unconventional love.  I don’t deserve it.

Give me more. Give me something I can hold on to, give me something I can recognize. Give me proof.

I believe in proof. My eyes can grasp what it can see. Is this just a magic trick that isn’t what it seems? I want more. I need more. I want proof.

Jesus came, I know the story, I can recite it the same way I can recite the alphabet. I can say His story with the mindless ease it takes me to drive without thinking about how to get to the grocery store. I know the story, but I want to feel the story. I want it to be real, I want to know it so closely that I feel the proof, that it is undeniable to my soul.

Where’s the proof?

I walk out of the house looking for it, I drive around scoping for where it’s hidden, I run down the street seeing if someone else has it.

I am looking out and forgetting to look within.

We are the proof. I am the proof. We are the living proof. He resides in me and I in Him (1 John 4:13). We are walking examples of the Holy Spirit doing a work in our broken vessels. I am the fleshly screw up that has worth because my God is in me, He goes before me, and He walks beside me. We are the living proof.  What He is doing with me is proof.  The fact that I have value is proof.  That people can see what He is doing in me is proof.

My living proof is me, well not me, but what He is doing with me, what He is doing in me. That He still loves me, the me that I don’t even want to be, the me He sees I can be and even the me I am right now, today. He loves her. That is proof.

If God can love me where I am at, warts and all, mistakes and faults, with pride and insecurity that is more than enough proof that I need. That is real. It doesn’t make sense, but it is real. Living my life as the living proof is how I go from reciting a verse to feeling His presence. He is with me. He lives in me. My day should reflect that. Why have I gotten this wrong? I am the proof, He is the proof. There is no grave to visit and pay my respects to, He lives in me.

Now I just need to live my life reflecting that, showing it to you, and believing it for me.

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