“Having loved his own who were in the world, Jesus now showed them the full extent of his love.” (Jn.13:1)
Dear Jesus, there are some things I’ve never seen that I long to see—such as a salmon on the end of my fly-fishing line in an easy-to-wade river in Scotland. Or the Northern Lights filling and dancing in the sky over a glassy-calm lake in the middle-of-nowhere Alaska.
And there are some things I’ve seen before that I want to see again and again but much more of—at the top of my list, with no close seconds, is your love.
Jesus, your love anchors me in any sea—no matter its depth, waves, or riptide. Your love centers me when I feel more “in chaos” than “in Christ.” Your love quiets me when I have “restless heart syndrome” and a noisy, anxious, angry spirit. Your love reels me in when my thoughts wander, and my feet want to follow those thoughts.
While we’re in this world, you love us just like and just as much as you loved your first messy, semi-believing disciples. You love us when we’re alive to your presence and affection, and when we think you’re ignoring our prayers and indifferent to our pain. Jesus, your love is the most constant can-be-counted-upon reality in our lives. In fact, only your love is better than life itself (Ps.63:3). Nothing can separate us from your love; but your Spirit can surely make us much more alive to your love—again and again.
Though you died for an-impossible-to-count, every-nation-bride (Rev.7), nothing humbles and gladdens me more than to be able to say with the Apostle Paul, “the Son of God loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal. 2:20). This isn’t spiritual narcissism; it is more necessary than my next breath. It isn’t selfishness; it is sacred privilege. Hallelujah, thank you, and So Very Amen.
