"It's love on legs."

What distance would you go to love? I mean it. What imaginary lines have you traced in your mind that mark the "too far" scenario?

A reoccurring theme between God and me, this year, has been love. There's a wonderful strangeness that comes in walking with God. We walk and walk and walk, but then (sometimes suddenly) I think to look back. It's about that time I realize I haven't been paying attention. I didn't notice crossing over my zone of comfort. I didn't realize we stepped over the world-will-think-this-is-crazy border and I find myself smack dab in the middle of a situation, that really doesn't seem like a "situation," because God and I set up camp a long time ago and are far past the roasting smors stage.

I've mentioned it before that I work at a small Christian college. Tomorrow happens to be our first day of classes and our campus minister, Adam, has picked an incredibly telling, for my life, theme, this year - Let Justice Roll Down. If you're anything like me, you think that sounds wonderfully poetic, but have no idea what it actually means. I only heard a five minute blurb on Adam's vision for the year, but it was enough to start a spark in my heart...

I actually had to look up the word justice because the context it was used in didn't fit my pea-brain understanding of its depth. The definition that Adam attached to justice came from Cornell West: "Justice is what love looks like in public. It's love on legs." And the scripture that bookends our theme is Amos 5:24, "But let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream."

For some reason my head only equated justice with God's wrath and Old Testament destruction. But in actuality, righteousness is embedded in its definition, love-living at its core.

On Sunday, our pastor told a story of a grandmother who loved to hold her spoon of sugar under the stream of incoming coffee and that she routinely filled her cup to overflowing. So much so, that she always had to sip the extra off her saucer. His point in telling the story was that this woman lived her life the same way she drank her coffee - overflowing.

Don't you want to live your life that way? I sure do.

For the privacy of the young woman who was all but a stranger to me weeks ago, I cannot give you the details of what God has been calling me to do or how he's been driving me to pray, but your mouth would drop if you knew the ins and outs of the ledge I've been walking.

Tonight, Ty let me rock him to sleep. He hugged me securely with his sweet cheek against my chest. I started out singing softly and his chubby little hand kept gently touching my lips. His eyes held my gaze the entire time. I didn't care about bed time. I didn't care about the dishes in the sink or the homework that needed to be done. I rocked and sang and prayed. I reminded Ty of all the people in his life that love him so much (including all of you!) and spoke words of greatness over his future. This swell came over my heart and tongues just poured over him (Yup. I'm one of those). I prayed in tongues for well over an hour. Ty had long since fallen asleep, and as my feet rocked back and forth I knew justice had rolled out.

From next door neighbors to late-night snugglers, God has called us to justice. He has equipped us to be the legs of love, to be his son in flesh. Smash the box, erase the lines of distinction, and ask God to breathe on you. 

Only good can come from allowing God to pour his never-ending streams of love through you and into others.