When I'm at home I drive a truck with my Dad's business logo painted on the doors, a rusty roof rack, and a tape deck. A few weeks ago I hunted out some old cassette tapes so I could listen to music on the way to my brother's soccer practice. One turned out to be my Mom and Dad's wedding tape from 1990, still playable. My Mom likes to dance and my Dad likes corny love songs, so the tape is a slightly fuzzy mix of Engelbert Humperdinck and Phil Collins and a bunch of other artists whose names I don't know. The songs must have been tucked away somewhere in my childhood memories, though, because I found myself singing along to lyrics I didn't remember learning.
The mushier the song, the more it made me think of Jesus.
Is that weird? I've been teased for having a "crush on Jesus", once or twice. It's true. As a teen, I was always faintly puzzled when my peers talked about having "movie crushes", or swooned over Mr. Darcy. Those guys weren't real. How could you fall in love with someone who wasn't real? Nonexistence is a serious impediment to perfection. But Jesus, He's not just perfect, He is all the things we love in other people: truth and goodness and beauty and love and mercy and purity and humility and joy. He's the most real of all real things. He doesn't just have a beard, He invented beards. He invented humor. (Tell me who else could come up with something as inherently funny as the tapir.) He invented flowers and music and chocolate ice cream--and scattered them around for us to find, like the boyfriend who leaves a rose and a love note on the dashboard of your car as a surprise, times ten million. He stoops to our level and woos us, like Mr. Darcy. He fights for us, like Spider-Man, like Aragorn. He grabs our hands and invites us on wild adventures, like the Doctor. He writes us poetry. (Have you read the Song of Songs?) And He says, if You trust me, nothing else matters, nothing matters more to Me than you, every moment, if you love Me back, if you're with Me, nothing else matters. Make it as mushy as you like. It's true.
We've got a groovy kind of love.