hangenout with liz

I love My Fair Lady. I've loved it since I was little. At the age of six, I can distinctly remember watching the movie on a small, static-filled, rabbit-eared tv in our living room, twirling around like Audrey Hepburn and putting marbles in my mouth. Fortunately, I never swallowed one, but that's beside the point. Towards the end of the movie when Henry Higgens finally realizes that beauty is really in the eyes of the beholder and, like in all good moives, he loves her implicitly. And, like in all good musicals, the orchestra begins to drift the now familiar cords of "I Could Have Danced All Night," and Higgens begins to sing. The words go like this:

Now, I of course, can never take this at face value and move on. No, I, in a twisted and probably far out there way, compared it to my walk with Christ. Now, before you run from the room shaking your head, hear me out. Are we accustomed to the face of Christ? Are His actions second nature to us? Does He make our day begin, or is it something else? Now that spring is in the air, I again stand amazed at our wonderful Savior. He has done so much for me and yet I know Him so very little. At times, it feels as though the more I learn the less I know. But I'm going to keep learning, keep striving, keep challenging myself until Christ becomes what I breath out and what I breathe in. He's the only one whose worth it.