As cheesy as it may sound, my first love really is Christ. Before boys ever entered the pictures, before dating became an option, before I cared about fashion, make-up, or anything along those lines, I fell in love with Jesus. 9 years old. Easter Sunday. I had had an ear infection for a few days and that morning I woke up with searing pain. We found out the next day, a tube had busted in my ear. All I knew was it hurt like somethin' fierce. Anyways, Mom and I stayed home. And as she was giving me my Easter basket, she started telling the story of Jesus. I had heard it so many times before and had walked down to the front at the age of 7, but this time, oh this time, it made sense. Not only did it make sense, it became real to me. So I prayed to receive Christ. For Him to come into my heart. To forgive my ever-increasing, unending list of sins. To save me from myself. And ever since then, no matter how I've acted, He has wanted me, pursued me, loved me, and forgiven me. In all His everlasting GLORY and MAJESTY, He, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, still has a desire for little old ugly, unworthy me.
How can Jesus not be my first Love?
And her's an amazing retelling of the Christmas Story by an old youth pastor of mine. It's incredible!
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