It's a fierce love.
I've been thinking about God's love lately. Do you ever think of it as fierce? Scandalous, almost? I don't know if that's the right word.
But, I mean, seriously. He plans out our lives from before the beginning of time.
Have you ever complained about the plans He made for your life? Well, I have. Plenty.
So I was thinking about that. He did that, made all of those plans. And then I remember another, more glorious, scandalous plan. The plan of redemption that included the crucifixtion of...Himself. The bearing of our sins, the taking upon Himself, His own wrath.
Can you get over that? I can't. Just can't.
At the same time, I was reading in Elyse Fitzpatrick's devotion, "Comforts from the Cross" these words:
"The story of redemption is, in its purest from, a love story, but it's a love story unlike anything you could ever imagine. It's the story of God's love for you, but this love isn't just a sweet semtiment inscribed on a greeting card destined for next week's garbage bin. It's deeper and richer, and honestly a bit frightening. It's love that is willing to afflict itself and its beloved for a greater good.
In yesterday's reading I described it as "fierce." The story of your redemption is a story of fierce love. Because of this love, Jesus brought pain upon his friends, the little family in Bethany, and thereby brought pain upon himself. He wouldn't allow himself the luxury of loving them less than they needed to be loved. His love is not flimsy or self serving; it's fierce. It's far more like Aslan's than Santa's."
It's not enough for me to simply know this intellectually. It's when He's loving me fiercely, especially in the midst of the storm. This is where I know He loves me most. Though I fight it and want temporal comforts. He loves me enough to ween me from this world, as many times as it takes. So I can know His true love and value.
When what I think I need is relief from adversity, God wisely loves me. Ever so fiercely with the scandalous message of the cross.
But, I mean, seriously. He plans out our lives from before the beginning of time.
Have you ever complained about the plans He made for your life? Well, I have. Plenty.
So I was thinking about that. He did that, made all of those plans. And then I remember another, more glorious, scandalous plan. The plan of redemption that included the crucifixtion of...Himself. The bearing of our sins, the taking upon Himself, His own wrath.
Can you get over that? I can't. Just can't.
At the same time, I was reading in Elyse Fitzpatrick's devotion, "Comforts from the Cross" these words:
"The story of redemption is, in its purest from, a love story, but it's a love story unlike anything you could ever imagine. It's the story of God's love for you, but this love isn't just a sweet semtiment inscribed on a greeting card destined for next week's garbage bin. It's deeper and richer, and honestly a bit frightening. It's love that is willing to afflict itself and its beloved for a greater good.
In yesterday's reading I described it as "fierce." The story of your redemption is a story of fierce love. Because of this love, Jesus brought pain upon his friends, the little family in Bethany, and thereby brought pain upon himself. He wouldn't allow himself the luxury of loving them less than they needed to be loved. His love is not flimsy or self serving; it's fierce. It's far more like Aslan's than Santa's."
It's not enough for me to simply know this intellectually. It's when He's loving me fiercely, especially in the midst of the storm. This is where I know He loves me most. Though I fight it and want temporal comforts. He loves me enough to ween me from this world, as many times as it takes. So I can know His true love and value.
When what I think I need is relief from adversity, God wisely loves me. Ever so fiercely with the scandalous message of the cross.


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