By Emma Hayes
I want you to be my chapel buddy,
So I can tell you that Jesus loves you
So I can make sure you have His New Song queued
I want you to rest on your back, in the sea, next to me.
In the morning at nine, when we sing, I want you to feel the goodness of community, the kind that makes you feel less lonely.
I want you to see yourself as He does, without your praising or trying or pursuing, just your being, floating in the water that is the Father, basking in the goodness of the fact that He created you and He created me.
His heart, always beating to know you.
I long to nudge you in the side, when we all echo in beautiful harmony in irony that the lyrics sometimes do not speak to the truth of your identity.
I’ll place my hand upon yours, to halt your vocal chords when hymns shame you for your “wretchedness.”
When lines of song bounce off the walls in a familiar note: “to make a wretch His treasure,” I want to remind you that He would never, for you have always been and will be His forever, no matter what may weather.
And when the speaker gets to the stage, and tells you how you are His, only after you do X-Y-and-Z, I’ll tap your knee, and hum a tune all about the goodness of the melody already inside of you, for the very breath in our lungs was gifted to us and always will be because Life loves you no matter what.
I’ll cheers my morning coffee cup, high in the air, even if people mock and stare, because I want everyone to hear:
He really, deeply, truly does care that you know, my dear chapel buddy:
you are fearfully and wonderfully made, like a humpback whale in the sea;
a grand masterpiece, intrinsically designed, inviting you to swim with freedom in your fins, in the waters of Love.
And, on the inevitable days when the song leader is louder than His tune of Truth, may we stand up and sing the classic “Love One Another,” remembering that you, chapel buddy, are also your own brother. I want you to know that He has always called you good, and very good at that.
If you ever need a reminder of Whose you are, and you can’t find it at Dawn,
I’ll gently remind you that it’s more important to take care of yourself mentally, chapel buddy, if it looks like turning up your headphones that drown out the screams that proclaim that you are anything less than worthy.
I want you to be my chapel buddy,
So I can tell you that Jesus love you
So I can make sure you have His New Song queued
The One that says:
I want you to rest on your back, in the sea, next to Me.
In the morning at nine, when you sing, I want you to feel the goodness of community, the kind that makes you feel less lonely.
I want you to leave knowing that I call you Holy, that you are Christ’s Divinity
