between the sheets.

My alarm clock rings at 5:45 on Sunday mornings. I should be sleeping. But I can't stop thinking that there's something I would love to do.

When I was in college, I was a mess. Theologically off the walls, and drinking, partying, always asking myself, "If I don't try this now, will I ever get the chance again?" That's a bad place to start from which to walk toward the heart of God. (Not that there's any unredeemable place.)

There were a couple of people, though, who always accepted me in. People whose doors I could, and did, knock on at 2am, 3am, 5am--crying, drunk, or in emotional crisis--who would open those doors, and give me a place to sleep. No lectures, no disapproving faces, no judgment. Just clean sheets, and the promise that if I never wanted to talk about it, I'd never have to. So I talked. For hours, sometimes. And in the safety of those spaces, we talked about God, eventually prayed to Him.

Tonight, I realized how much I'd love to be one of those people to some girl like the girl I was.

Out with friends, an extraneously drunk guy walked up to our table, and proceeded to be the biggest jerk I've ever met. As he talked, though, I thought "God loves him." I think the guy's an a-hole, but my Lord planned for him, and meticulously created him, and loves him with an unimaginable ferocity. So I'm sitting there, thinking, "This a-hole's value is indisputable." What now?

Absolute love is a game-changer.

I absolutely want to love young people who don't feel so loved. In those moments tonight, I prayed that God would let me have the clean sheets, and the silence for some kid who needs them.

I love that.