Sometimes, I imagine God is a terrifying, beautiful and jealous warrior. He will hold me close to his heart, in his arms, carrying me and the weight of my burdens. He will wind his arms around me tightly as I hide my face in his chest in shame, grief, and hurt. He will put his lips to my head and whisper fiercely into my hair promises of love, faithfulness, and security. He will reprimand me with righteous anger for doubting myself, for doubting Him. He will forbid me to chase after anything but Himself, to heart break over cheap substitutes of Him. He will tell me with great conviction, “You are worth fighting for,” and I will be floored. Just like that, I will be reminded of how loved I am. By this fearsome warrior who could fell me in an instant but instead has chosen to lay down his sword and shield in the midst of battle in order to hold me.