I’m not crazy about my wedding photos. Don’t get me wrong. I loved my dress, my headpiece, the decorations, etc. It’s just that I really like the way my bride portraits, the pictures I had made a month or so before, turned out. My hair was perfect, very Pretty Woman, and my headpiece was positioned just so, with just the right amount of toile showing in the back and room for my bangs in the front (1993, people). My make-up was flawless.
I tried really hard to recreate the look on my wedding day, but fell a little short. In my opinion, my head piece sat a little too far forward all day, and my make-up was a little too heavy. I remember obsessing over these things in the dressing room before the ceremony, trying to look perfect for Todd. I wanted to take his breath away at the altar, make him forget what to do and what to say.
I wanted to be a beautiful bride.
Most of what I remember about our actual ceremony is pieced together from a fuzzy and fading VHS tape that we keep in our closet, Daddy giving me away, climbing the altar steps, handing my bouquet off to my sister, praying at the prayer bench, and being pronounced husband and wife. I know those things happened because I have watched myself do them, but I will never forget the way Todd looked at me.
I expected him to look me over, to take in and appreciate every detail–maybe notice that my lipstick was too dark and my bangs were a bit smashed–but he didn’t. His eyes found mine immediately and stayed there, steady and intense. When I said “I do,” he smiled and took my breath away. Suddenly, my appearance seemed irrelevant, just wrapping on the gift that was my heart.
You know, the Bride of Christ spends a lot of time fussing, fretting, and fixing herself, striving to live up to an image she imagined, poor thing. Whom is she trying to impress, her Bridegroom? Has she forgotten that He is also her Creator and already thinks she is beautiful?
He cannot be impressed, but He can be pleased.
If she gives Him her heart, He will take her breath away.