I remember the first time I felt like I needed to hide from Jesus . . .
I was at a Christian retreat; it was my freshman year of college. I was hungry for God and wanted to know more of who He is, and I believed in that place, the retreat, I would be surrounded by His people and I would learn and take Him in. The Bible was newly alive to me, and with each phrase I was blown away at how I could understand it, and how it spoke to me. I was ready for more.
I tuned in as the speaker gave his talk, hanging on every word, until he said something that shook me.
The speaker asked, “What would you do if Jesus walked into the room right now?”
The immediate thought that came to my mind was, “I would hide.”
If Jesus came into the room, I would hide. I would go and bend down behind one of the worn couches and make sure He couldn’t see me. Because He wouldn’t want to see me. He, being holy and good, and me being filthy and having done awful things. I was not clean. I was dirty. A holy God shouldn’t see a dirty girl.
I shared my thoughts with the small group I had been put in, thinking they were obvious and made sense, and someone from the group spoke life to me:
“You wouldn’t have to hide,” she said. “Jesus knows everything you’ve done and everything you’re going to do and He loves you anyway. If He were to come into this room, He would embrace you and put His hands on your face and call you ‘daughter’.”
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