I’m posting today at Out of the Ordinary…
One evening after a revival service at our church, I sat in front of the window in my room, looked out across the darkness of our backyard, and begged Jesus not to return. At least not any time soon. I don’t remember anything at all about that particular revival service: not who preached nor his text nor even any of his pertinent points. Evidently it had something to do with the end of the world as we knew it. I was a young girl, 11 or 12, maybe older, maybe younger, and I was terrified (terrified!) that Jesus would indeed come back as warned, soon and very soon, robbing me of a boyfriend and prom and all of the other childish dreams and aspirations that were close to my young girl’s heart.
It seems silly and almost a little sad to scare a little girl half out of her wits to the extent that she could hardly sleep at night for fear of never having a first date. I will say this in defense of my younger self: I believed Jesus’ promise to return. Not only that but I realized I much preferred the world according to Seventeen magazine, a realization that I’d like to think scared me as much as life without ever having a pedicure.
Today I still believe Jesus’ promise to return and I pretend to be ready but the reality is sometimes I still prefer He would wait.
Read the rest of the post here.