Loving the Bride

We have all heard of her. Weather you've tuned in to the TLC reality show, heard the horror stories from bewildered bridesmaids, or maybe even stood at an altar and made vows to her, we all cringe at the thought of Bridezilla.

It's shocking really.

Grown women, throwing fits, demanding help but refusing advice, continually dissatisfied, spending obscene amounts of money, turning the happiest time of their lives into a living nightmare for everyone around them and so often hurting their loved ones.

All in the name of LOVE.

Up until recently, I thought I had dodged the saga of the bridezilla. Every wedding I have been a part of has been only mildly stressful and the brides have been 90 percent of the time graceful and polite (the other 10 percent of the time...let's be real, bridal meltdowns are inevitable).

All except one. I do know one bride who has at times been less than lovely, and she's been causing me some heartache lately.

Even the angels stand impatient and in awe, waiting for her. She is the bride of all brides.

This bride is more glorious, more adored, more awaited for and often more "zilla" than any other. She is incomparable. The most beautiful bride I've ever seen. She is to die for. In fact, she was.

Jesus calls his church his bride. And by church, He did not mean our Sunday routine of high-fives & hallelujahs. His church is a magnetic, resilient, courageous bride who can move mountains and hold the gaze of God himself.

She sounds like an angel, RIGHT?! But even the angels stand impatient and in awe, waiting for her. She is the bride of all brides.

So how could the bride that Jesus claims be anything but perfect? Well because she is composed of fragmented, weary, incomplete, and sometimes barely beating hearts.

If you haven't picked it up yet, SHE is YOU & ME.

I've been in church since my very first Sunday on the planet. I've cried at the altars, gone to the conferences, led the small groups ,taken the classes...yeah, me and church go waaaaaaaay back. And from my earliest memories, I have "fit" in church. Church is where I made sense of the world around me. It was my home, a place where people knew me and loved me and believed that I was something significant. I had favor, friends, mentors, and opportunities all wrapped up in this little world of church. I loved that world. I knew that world. I understood that world.

And then all of the sudden, it just changed. People changed. I changed. As I started growing up and making my own choices about my life, I suddenly felt I had lost the favor and approval and love of so many people. You never know how much you depend on someone's opinion of you until that opinion changes. And when it did, when peoples view of me and my future changed, I found myself becoming one of those people that I had never understood—the people who had been "hurt by the church." I used to think people were so ridiculous and dramatic when they said they claimed they had been hurt my the church.

But, there I was, blaming the bride just as quickly as I had defended her.

I went from being a happy, hopeful, passionate person to a cynical, bitter, very HURT person.

I found myself becoming one of those people that I had never understood—the people who had been "hurt by the church."

I found myself assuming the worst about everyone, picking out flaws with a fine toothed comb. I thought that everything I had perceived about the church was all just a big game where the winners are already decided that I had been tricked into playing.

And I thought if I just got over it and gave it time everything would go back to "normal" and I would love being at church again, but it wasn't that easy. It wasn't just a few weeks of pouting and a couple of heart to hearts with people who had hurt me. No this was a full blown life changer. One of those lessons there is no shortcut for.

And let me tell you. It was hard. Still is at times. The hardest (no seriously, sometimes it SUCKS).

I spent almost a full year lonelier and more confused than I ever had been. and I cried more tears than I knew eyes could hold. I went back and forth. One day I was "over it" the next I was keeping my head down, wanting to be left alone at church, only going because I was stubborn and didn't want to lose the battle between me and "the church" that I had made up in my mind. I felt like the sibling trying to get the parent on my side (talk about ridiculous).

One Tuesday morning, while I was having some heated dialogue with Jesus, he spoke up. FINALLY! Some encouragement! Some sympathy!

NOPE.

He asked me a question.

"Do you care more about the way my bride makes you feel, than the way I feel about my bride?"

I froze.

"Uuhhm Jesus? Can we just go back to a few minutes ago when I was venting and you were my silent shoulder to cry on?

"I knew the answer too. I had been putting all of my attention into how the bride was making me feel."

It was unfair. I was in the right. She hurt me! Then I realized. I AM the bride. I am a part of who she is. I was pointing the finger right at my own face. HOW EMBARASSING!!!!

"Do you care more about the way my bride makes you feel, than the way I feel about my bride?"

I had been telling God that his bride had offended me, ignoring the fact that I was a part of her. If I loved Jesus, I loved his bride. No matter what. That's the way it is.

And even when she is Bridezilla. Even when her eyes stray from the goal and her motives are wrong. Even when favor isn't fair. Even when the wicked prosper. Even when she doesn't make any sense. Even when she leaves me lonely. Even when she annoys me or rubs me the wrong way. Even when people aren't who I thought they were or who I think they should be.

Even when she hurts me, even when she's a brat.

My job is to love her, to protect her, to prepare her for her big day. I am not in charge of judging her, making her behave, keeping her in line.

Someone told me once, "Even if you were the only one on the planet, Jesus still would have died on the cross to save you." Now that's a poetic, heartwarming, and not entirely false statement. But the reality is, it wasn't just me on the planet. It wasn't only my face in his mind. It was his bride. His whole bride in all of her humanity and all of her glory. I don't get to arrogantly separate myself from her or disown her because she hurt me. We are in this together. And he is coming back for her. A pure bride. Not a bride with cold shoulders and cliques. But a bride who is willing to overlook offenses for the sake of the ultimate love.

And so, humbled and more thankful than ever, I choose to care more about how Jesus feels about his bride, than how the bride makes me feel. I choose to care less about how the church hurt me, and more about how Jesus' heart hurts for his church. And let me emphasize that it is a CHOICE and not a feeling. Some mornings I don't want to see the bride for who she is, veil lifted and humanity revealed. Some days I don't want to be called "church girl" anymore. It is a choice. Every second, every day, for as long as it takes. Because if the church is worth Jesus' life, then she is worth me making a tough choice.

And day by day I became my happy self again and am loving Jesus and serving his beautiful bride. Because even on days when she's being a total diva, (& we all have those days) it really is all about her.

– Elise Grable

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