Judgment

Judgment

Dear friends, since God loved us that much, we surely ought to love each other. No one has ever seen God. But if we love each other, God lives in us, and his love is brought to full expression in us. ¶ And God has given us his Spirit as proof that we live in him and he in us. Furthermore, we have seen with our own eyes and now testify that the Father sent his Son to be the Savior of the world. All who declare that Jesus is the Son of God have God living in them, and they live in God. We know how much God loves us, and we have put our trust in his love. ¶ God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and God lives in them. And as we live in God, our love grows more perfect. So we will not be afraid on the day of judgment, but we can face him with confidence because we live like Jesus here in this world. ¶ Such love has no fear, because perfect love expels all fear. If we are afraid, it is for fear of punishment, and this shows that we have not fully experienced his perfect love. We love each other because he loved us first. (1 Jn. 4:11-19)

Your mouth is dry. Your palms are sweaty. Your pulse races like the Indy 500. Your eyes dart over your shoulder, and your heart’s in your throat. You probably know the feeling. You’ve probably experienced the moment because, if you’re like me, you know exactly what it feels like to see the flashing lights of the highway patrol cruiser in your rearview mirror.

Your prayer life immediately spikes: "Oh, Lord," or "God, help me," or "Jesus, have mercy on me a sinner." Highway patrolmen have probably stirred more prayers than a thousand pulpits. And at that time, our requests are unanimous, predictable and selfish. "Please, God, let there be a little fender-bender down the road where nobody’s hurt," or "See the kid driving that red corvette, God? Send the officer after him." But he doesn't. Your back window fills with red, white and blue strobes and you’re not feeling very patriotic at the moment. And as you pull to the side of the road, upward prayers become backward thoughts: “What did I do?” or, “How fast was I going?” or, “How could I have been so stupid?”

Then, Arnold Schwarzenegger fills your side mirror, and you don’t dare open your door because the second you do, the officer’s hand will Marshal Dillon its way to his holster and he'll say, "Keep your hands where I can see them, please." Your best option at this point is to return to prayer because only God can help you now. We dread those moments, don’t we? Remember when the teacher took you outside the classroom, or when your dad heard you climbing in the bedroom window past midnight?

We have a word for such moments. Judgment. The evidence is in, the truth is out, and the patrolman’s at your door. No one likes the thought of judgment, and the Ephesian Christians didn't, either. They feared the judgment – not the highway patrol, but God. Because knowing that God sees all sin, and knowing he hates all sin, and knowing he must hate what he sees – which is not a very comforting thought – they were afraid. So John comforted them. He dipped the quill of his pen into the inkwell of God's love and wrote, “As we live in God, our love grows more perfect. So we will not be afraid on the day of judgment, but we can face him with confidence because we are like Christ here in this world. Such love has no fear because perfect love expels all fear. If we are afraid, it is for fear of judgment, and this shows that his love has not been perfected in us.” (1 John 4:17-18, emphasis mine)

"Perfect love expels all fear." Couldn't you use some fear expulsion? We can all probably relate to a story about Louis Armstrong. The famous trumpeter, and singer of What a Wonderful World, grew up in rural Louisiana in the early 1900’s. When he was a young boy, his Aunt Haddie often sent him to the creek for water. On one occasion, as he leaned over to fill his bucket, an alligator scared little Louie so badly that he dropped the pail and ran back to the house. His aunt told him to go back and get the water, anyway. "That alligator," she assured her nephew, "is just as scared of you as you are of it." "If that's the case," Louie answered, "then that creek water ain't fit to drink."

Alligators lurk in our creeks, too. And when we see them, we react. We fear rejection, so we follow the crowd. We fear not fitting in, so we take the drugs. For fear of standing out, we wear what everyone else wears. And for fear of blending in, we wear what no one else wears. For fear of sleeping alone, we sleep with anyone. For fear of not being loved, we search for love in all the wrong places. But God flushes those fears. Those saturated in God's love don't sell out to win the love of others. They don't even sell out to win the love of God. But do you think you need to? You know, win God’s love?

For instance, do you think, “If I cuss less, pray more, drink less, study more . . . if I try harder, God will love me more?” If so, then sniff and smell Satan's stench behind those words. We all need improvement, but we don't need to woo God's love. We change because we already have God's love. God's “perfect” love. Perfect love is just that – perfect. A perfect knowledge of the past and a perfect vision of the future. In other words, you cannot shock God with your actions. There will never come a day when you cause him to gasp, "Whoa, I didn’t see that coming." Never will he turn to his angels and complain, "Had I known Randy was going to do that, I wouldn't have saved his soul." God knows your entire story, from your first word to your final breath, and with clear assessment declares, "You are mine."

What you do may stun you, but not God. With perfect knowledge of your imperfect life, God signed on. Some time ago, I read about a woman who had tasted a form of that kind of love. Brain surgery had left her without the use of a facial nerve. As a result, she faced the world with a crooked smile. Then, after the operation, she met the love of her life. Here's how she described him: "He sees nothing strange or ugly about me and has never, even in anger, made a joke about my appearance. He has never seen me any other way. When I look in the mirror, I see deformity, but my husband sees beauty."

See what perfect love does? It drives out the fear of judgment. In fact, it purges the fear of the day of judgment. As John wrote, "So we will not be afraid on the day of judgment, but we can face him with confidence because we are like Christ here in this world." (v. 17) And on that topic, John makes no apology and pulls no punches. The day of judgment is not a phrase in a fiction novel, but a day circled on heaven's calendar. Of the twenty-seven New Testament books, only the postcard-sized epistles of Philemon and Third John fail to reference our divine court appearance.  While the details of the day are unrevealed to us and debated by many, we know this: the day is coming. On that day, earthly wealth will not matter. Physical beauty won't be a factor. Fame will be forgotten. You might be positioned next to Napoleon or Julius Caesar, but you won't be asking any questions about Waterloo or Brutus. All eyes will be on Christ.

And those who ignored him have a legitimate reason to fear. "Then He will also say to those on His left, 'Depart from Me, accursed ones, into the eternal fire which has been prepared for the devil and his angels.'" (Matt. 25:41) But those who’ve accepted him have nothing to fear whatsoever. "We can face him with confidence because we are like Christ here in this world." (1 John 4:17)

Think about that statement. God views Christians the way he views Christ: sinless and perfect. Hence, Christians can view judgment the way Christ does: with confidence and hope. Does Jesus fear the judgment? No. A sinless soul needn't. Does Jesus fear death? No. The giver of life wouldn't. Should the Christian fear judgment or death? Not at all. "Our standing in the world is identical with Christ's." (v. 17) The Son of God stands next to you doing what the son of Robert Pape, Sr. did for me.

Robert Pape, Sr. was a square-jawed, rawboned man with a neck by Rawlings. In Bellflower, where I grew up, everyone knew him. Mr. Pape’s son, Rob, and I were best friends in high school, and we played football together. One Friday night after an out-of-town game, Rob invited me to stay at his house. By the time we reached his home, the hour was way past midnight, and Rob hadn't told his dad he was bringing anyone home. Mr. Pape didn't know me or my vehicle, so when I stepped out of the car in front of his house, he popped on a floodlight and aimed it right at my face.

Through the glare I saw this block of a man, and I heard his deep voice say, "Who are you?" I gulped. My mind moved at the speed of cold honey. I started to say my name but I couldn’t. My only hope was that Rob would speak up. And a glacier could have melted before he did, but Rob finally interceded. "It's okay, Dad. That's my friend, Randy. He's with me." The light went off, and Mr. Pape threw open the door. "Come on in, boys. Mom’s got food for you in the kitchen." Now, what changed? What made Mr. Pape flip off the light? One fact. I had aligned myself with his son. My sudden safety had nothing to do with my accomplishments or offerings. I knew his son. Period.

For the same reason, you need never fear God's judgment. Not today. Not on Judgment Day. Jesus, in the light of God's glory, is speaking on your behalf. "That's my friend," he says. And when he does, the door of heaven flies open to a banquet that’s been prepared for your arrival. So, trust God's love. His perfect love. Don't fear he’ll discover your past. He already has. And don't fear disappointing him in the future because he can show you the book, chapter and verse where you will. With perfect knowledge of the past, and perfect vision of the future, he loves you perfectly – in spite of both.

Perfect love can handle your fear of judgment – and slower driving can probably handle your fear of the highway patrol.

Grace,

Randy

Still

Still

So, what do you think? With God on our side like this, how can we lose? If God didn’t hesitate to put everything on the line for us, embracing our condition and exposing himself to the worst by sending his own Son, is there anything else he wouldn’t gladly and freely do for us? And who would dare tangle with God by messing with one of God’s chosen? Who would dare even to point a finger? The One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us. Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture: “They kill us in cold blood because they hate you. We’re sitting ducks; they pick us off one by one.” ¶ None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us. (Rom. 8:31-39)

Al, aged 9, trudged through the streets of London, his hand squeezing a note and his heart pounding with fear. He hadn’t read the letter – his father forbade him from doing that. So, he didn’t know the contents of the message, but he knew its destination – the police station. Young boys might look forward to a trip to the police station. Not Al. At least not today. Punishment, not pleasure, brought this moment on because Al had missed curfew.

The fun that day had made him forget the time of day, so he came home late and in trouble. His father, a strict disciplinarian, met Al at the front door and, with no greeting whatsoever, gave him the note and the instruction: "Take it to the jailhouse." Al had no idea what to expect, but he feared the worst. And his fears were understandable. The police officer, a friend of his father’s, opened the note, read it and nodded. "Follow me," he said, and led the wide-eyed fourth-grader to a jail cell, opened the door and told him to go in. Then the officer clanged the door shut. "This is what we do to naughty boys," he explained as he walked away.

Al's face paled as he drew the only conclusion that could be reached: he’d crossed the line. He’d exhausted his father’s supply of grace; outspent the cache of his mercy. So, dad had him locked away. Young Al had no reason to think he'd ever see his family again. But he was wrong, because the jail sentence lasted only five minutes. But those five minutes felt like five years, and Al never forgot that day. The sound of the clanging door, he often told people later, stayed with him for the rest of his life.

Can you imagine a more ominous sound? Its echo wordlessly announces, "Your father has rejected you. Search all you want, kid, but he isn't near. Plead all you want, friend, but he won't hear. You’re separated from your father's love." The slamming of the cell door. And many of us fear that we’ve heard that sound, perhaps more than once. Al forgot the curfew, but you forgot your virtue. Little Al came home late; you came home drunk – or didn't come home at all. Al lost track of time. And you? You lost your sense of direction and ended up in the wrong place doing the wrong thing.

And God knows, heaven has no place for the likes of . . . Cheaters. Aborters. Adulterers. Secret sinners. Public scoundrels. Impostors. Church hypocrites. All of them – locked away. Not by an earthly father, but by a heavenly one. Incarcerated, not in a London jail, but in a jail of guilt and shame. No need to request mercy; the account’s empty. Don’t bother appealing for grace; the check will bounce. You've gone too far this time. And the fear of losing a father's love exacts a high toll. Al spent the rest of his life hearing the clanging door. That early taste of terror contributed to his lifelong devotion to doing the same in others. Because little Al, Alfred Hitchcock, made a career out of scaring people.

You may be scaring some folks yourself. Oh, you don't mean to, but you can’t produce what you don’t possess, can you? If you aren't convinced of God's love, how can you love others? Afraid you’ve heard the clanging door? If so, rest assured that you haven’t. Your imagination says you did; logic says you did; some parent or pulpiteer says you did. But according to the Bible, according to Paul, you did not. I’m absolutely convinced that nothing — nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable — absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us. (Rom. 8:38-39)

Those words are the "Eureka!" at the end of Paul's love hunt. Beginning in verse 31, Paul initiates his search for God’s love with five life-changing questions. Question one: With God on our side like this, how can we lose? (v. 31) The presence of God tilts the scales of security forever in our direction. Who could hurt us? Question two: If God didn’t hesitate to put everything on the line for us, embracing our condition and exposing himself to the worst by sending his own Son, is there anything else he wouldn’t gladly and freely do for us? (v. 32) Would God save our soul and then leave us to fend for ourselves? Will he address eternal needs and ignore the earthly ones? Of course not. Question three poses: And who would dare tangle with God by messing with one of God’s chosen? (v. 33) Once God accepts you, what other opinion matters? Every voice that accuses you, including your own, sounds wimpy in the tribunal of heaven. God's acceptance trumps earthly rejection. Question four continues: Who would dare even to point a finger? The One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us. (v. 34) Adjacent to God, within whispering distance of your Maker, sits the One who died for you. He occupies the place of high authority. So let your accusers or your conscience speak against you. Your divine defense attorney mutes their voices. Why? Because he loves you.

Question five poses the question of life: Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us? (v. 35) Can God love me still? Yes. Still. Paul’s question crests the top step of a great staircase. And as we stand with Paul at the top, he encourages us to look around for anything that can separate us from God's love. Can you name one element of life that signals the end of God's devotion? Or, as the apostle rhetorically answers, There’s no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture…. (v. 35) Assembling adversaries like a jailhouse lineup, Paul waves them off one by one: "not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture." Id. No one can drive a wedge between you and God's love. "No, despite all these things, overwhelming victory is ours through Christ, who loved us" (v. 37)

Earthly affliction does not equate to heavenly rejection – Paul’s convinced of that. I’m absolutely convinced that nothing … can get between us and God’s love….” (v. 38) He uses the perfect tense, implying, "I have become, and I remain convinced." This is not just some passing idea to Paul; it’s his deeply rooted conviction. Paul’s absolutely convinced. So, what do you suppose convinced him?

Maybe the disciples did. Paul doesn’t give us a clue, so we can only speculate. But maybe he asked the followers of Jesus to describe the length of God's love. In quick response they talked of the Passover party. It promised to be a great night. Good food. Good friends. Uninterrupted time with Christ. But in the middle of the meal, Jesus had dropped a bombshell: "Tonight all of you will desert me." (Matt. 26:31) The disciples scoffed at the idea. "Peter declared, 'Even if everyone else deserts you, I never will.' . . . And all the other disciples vowed the same." (vv. 33, 35) "Abandon Jesus? Impossible. He's the flypaper; we're the flies." "In his corner, in his pocket. You can count on us, right?" Wrong. Before the dark became dawn "all his disciples deserted him and ran away." (Mark 14:50) John. Andrew. They ran. Bartholomew. James. Thaddaeus. They scrammed. When the Romans appeared, the followers disappeared in a blur of knees and elbows. Those mighty men who are today stained-glassed in a thousand cathedrals spent the night crawling beneath donkeys and hiding in haystacks. They abandoned Jesus and ran away. When the kitchen got hot, they got out. Amazing.

But even more amazing is this. When Christ rose from the dead, he never brought it up. Never. Not even one, "I told you so." Entering the Upper Room of vow violators, he could have quoted to them their own words, reminded them of their betrayal. "Boy, Andrew, some friend you are. And, John? To think I was going to let you write one of the Gospels." He could’ve left them hearing the sound of a closing door. But he didn't. "That evening, on the first day of the week, the disciples were meeting behind locked doors because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders. Suddenly, Jesus was standing there among them! 'Peace be with you,' he said." (John 20:19) They outran the guards, but they couldn't outrun the love of Christ. Did Paul hear this story? If so, it could have been enough to convince him. Desert Jesus, and he'll still love you.

But Peter might have strengthened the verb. He might have upgraded “desert” to “deny.” Deny Jesus, and he'll still love you. Because while Christ faced a trial, Peter faced his own. As he warmed near a fire, "a servant girl came over and said to him, 'You were one of those with Jesus the Galilean.' But Peter denied it in front of everyone. 'I don't know what you are talking about,' he said." (Matt. 26:69-70) Peter – the bouncing ball of faith. It soared so high, Christ nicknamed him the Rock (Matt. 16:16-19); it plummeted so low, Jesus called him Satan. (Matt. 16:21-23) Who promised loyalty more insistently? Who fell more inexcusably? Others we might understand, but this is Peter denying Jesus. His feet walked on water. His hands distributed the miracle food to the five thousand. His eyes saw Moses and Elijah standing next to Jesus on Transfiguration Hill. His lips swore allegiance. Remember what Jesus told him? "'Before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.' 'No!' Peter insisted. 'Not even if I have to die with you! I will never deny you!'" (Matt. 26:34-35) But he did. Three times. Salting the air with vulgarity, Peter cursed the name of his dearest friend. Then the rooster crowed. Don't you know that the crowing of the bird had the effect of a cell-door clanging? "At that moment the Lord turned and looked at Peter. Then Peter remembered that the Lord had said, 'Before the rooster crows tomorrow morning, you will deny me three times.' And Peter left the courtyard, crying bitterly." (Luke 22:61-62)

“Jesus will never look at me again,” Peter must have thought. He was wrong. Days after the resurrection Peter and some other disciples decided to go back to Galilee and fish. Why? Why would a witness of the resurrection go fishing? Maybe he was hungry. Or, maybe he was unconvinced. Christ can defeat death, but can he love a two-timer? Maybe Peter had his doubts. If so, the doubts began to fade when he heard the voice. Jesus called to his friends, urging them to cast their net on the right side of the boat. The fact that they didn't recognize Jesus didn't keep them from trying. After they pulled in a large haul of fish, John recognized the Master. "It is the Lord!" (John 21:7) Peter barely got his britches on before he bailed out of the boat and swam toward Christ. And, before long, the two were standing, of all places, next to a fire. Peter had denied Christ at the first fire, but he couldn't deny the love of Christ at the second.

Maybe Peter told this story to Paul. Maybe by the time he finished, Paul was brushing away a tear and saying, "I'm convinced. Nothing can separate us from God's love." "Deny Jesus," Peter testified, "and he'll still love you." “Doubt Jesus," Thomas could add, "and the same is true." Because Thomas had had his doubts. Didn't matter to him that ten sets of eyes had seen the resurrected Jesus. Or that the women who’d watched him being placed in the tomb watched him walk into the room. Let them shout and clap; Thomas was going to sit and wait because he wasn't in the room when Jesus came in. Maybe he was out for bagels, or maybe he took the death of Jesus harder than the others. In one of the four times he is quoted in Scripture, Thomas pledges, "Let's go, too – and die with Jesus." (John 11:16) Thomas would die for Christ. Surely he'd die for the chance to see the risen Christ. But he wasn't about to be fooled. He'd buried his hopes once, thank you very much. He’s not about to bury them again. No matter what the others said, he needed to see for himself.

So, for seven days he sat. Others rejoiced; he resisted. They celebrated; he was silent. Thomas needed firsthand evidence. So Jesus gave it to him. First one hand, then the other, then the pierced side. "Put your finger here and see my hands. Put your hand into the wound in my side. Don't be faithless any longer. Believe!" (John 20:27) And Thomas did. "My Lord and my God!" (v. 28) Only God could come back from the dead. And only a God of love would come back for a doubter.

Desert God – he’ll still love you. Deny God – he’ll still love you. Doubt God – he’ll still love you. Paul was convinced. So, how about you? Are you convinced that you have never lived a loveless day? You haven’t. Not one. Never unloved. Those times you deserted Christ? He loved you. You hid from him; he came looking for you. And those occasions you denied Christ? Though you belonged to him, you hung with them, and when his name surfaced, you cursed like a drunken sailor. God let you hear the crowing of conscience and feel the heat of tears, but he never let you go. Your denials can’t diminish his love. Nor can your doubts. You've had them. You may have them even now. While there’s much we cannot know, may never know, can't we be sure of this? Doubts don't separate doubters from God's love.

You see, the jail door has never closed. God's love supply is never empty. "For his unfailing love toward those who fear him is as great as the height of the heavens above the earth." (Ps. 103:11) The big news of the Bible is not that you love God, but that God loves you; not that you can know God but that God already knows you. He tattooed your name on the palm of his hand. His thoughts of you outnumber the sands on the shore. You never leave his mind, escape his sight or flee his thoughts.

He sees the worst of you and loves you still. Your sins of tomorrow and failings of the future will not surprise him; he sees them now. Every day and deed of your life has passed before his eyes and been calculated in his decision. He knows you better than you know you and he’s reached his verdict: he loves you still. No discovery will disillusion him; no rebellion will dissuade him. He loves you with an everlasting love. The greatest discovery in the universe is the greatest love in the universe – God’s love. "Nothing can ever separate us from his love." (Rom. 8:38)

Think what those words mean. You may be separated from your spouse, your folks, your kids, or even your hair, but you are not separated from the love of God. And you never will be. Ever. And once filled up by his love, you'll never be the same. Peter wasn't. He traded his boat for a pulpit and never looked back. The disciples weren't. The same men who fled the garden in fear traveled the world in faith. Thomas was never the same. If the legends are true, he carried the story of God's love for doubters and deserters all the way to India, where he, like his friends and Savior, died because of love.

The fear of love lost haunted young Alfred Hitchcock. But the joy of a love found changed the disciples. May you be changed, too. The next time you fear you hear a clanging door, remember, "Nothing can ever separate us from his love." (Rom. 8:38)

Nothing.

Grace,

Randy

Deeper

Deeper

I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God. (Eph. 3:16-19)

Pipin Ferreras wants to go deep – deeper than any person has ever gone before. You and I are probably content with 10 or 20 feet of water. Certain risk-takers may descend 40, maybe 50 feet. But not Pipin. This legendary Cuban diver has descended into 531 feet of ocean water, armed with nothing but flippers, a wet suit, a strong resolve, and one breath of air. His round trip lasted three minutes and twelve seconds. To prepare for such a dive, he loads his lungs with 8.2 liters of air – nearly twice the capacity of a normal human being – inhaling and exhaling for several minutes, his windpipe sounding like a bicycle pump. He then wraps his knees around the crossbar of an aluminum sled that lowers him to the sea bottom. No free diver has gone farther. But still, he wants more. Though he's acquainted with water pressures that tested World War II submarines, it's not enough. The mystery of the deep calls him. He wants to go deeper.

Would you be interested in going deeper? Not a descent into ocean waters, but into the limitless love of God. “May your roots go down deep into the soil of God's marvelous love. And may you have the power to understand, as all God's people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love really is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is so great you will never fully understand it. Then you will be filled with the fullness of life and power that comes from God.” (Eph. 3:17-19) When Paul wants to describe the love of God, he can't avoid the word “deep.” Dig "deep into the soil of God's marvelous love." (v. 17) Discover "how deep his love really is." (v. 18)

Envision Pipin deep beneath the ocean’s surface. Having plunged the equivalent of five stories, where can he turn and not see water? To the right, to the left, beneath him, above him – the common consistency of his world is water. Water defines his dives, dictates his direction, liberates him, and limits him. His world is water. Can a person go equally deep into God's love? Sinking so deep that he or she sees nothing else? David Brainerd, the eighteenth-century missionary to the American Indians, would say so. He journaled: “I withdrew to my usual place of retirement, in great tranquility. I knew only to breathe out my desire for a perfect conformity to Him in all things. God was so precious that the world with all its enjoyments seemed infinitely vile. I had no more desire for the favor of men than for pebbles. At noon I had the most ardent longings after God which I ever felt in my life. In my secret retirement, I could do nothing but tell my dear Lord in a sweet calmness that He knew I desired nothing but Him, nothing but holiness, that He had given me these desires and He only could give the thing desired. I never seemed to be so unhinged from myself, and to be so wholly devoted to God. My heart was swallowed up in God most of the day.”

For anyone desiring a descent into that kind of love, Scripture offers us an anchor. Grab hold of this verse and let it lower you down: "God is love." (1 John 4:16) One word into the passage reveals the supreme surprise of God's love – that it has nothing to do with you. Others love you because of you – your dimples; your good looks; your rhetoric. Some people love you because of you. But not God. He loves you because he’s God. He loves you because he decides to. Self-generated, uncaused, and spontaneous, his constant-level love depends on his choice to give it. "The Lord did not set his affection on you and choose you because you were more numerous than other peoples, for you were the fewest of all peoples. But it was because the Lord loved you." (Deut. 7:7-8)

You don't influence God's love. For instance, you can't impact the “treeness” of a tree, or the “skyness” of the sky, or the “rockiness” of a rock. Nor can you affect the love of God. If you could, John would have used more ink: "God is occasional love," or "sporadic love," or "fair-weather love." If your actions altered his devotion, then God would not be love – he’d be human, because that’s human love. And we’ve all had enough of human love from time to time, haven't we? Enough guys wooing you with Elvis-impersonator sincerity. Enough tabloids telling you that true love is just a diet away. Enough helium-filled expectations of bosses and parents and children. Enough mornings smelling like the mistakes you made while searching for love the night before.

Don't we need a fountain of love that won't run dry? Well, you'll find one on a stone-cropped hill outside Jerusalem's walls where Jesus hangs, cross-nailed and thorn-crowned. When you feel unloved, go to that spot. Meditate long and hard on heaven's love for you. Both eyes beaten shut, shoulders as raw as ground beef, lips bloody and split. Fists of hair yanked from his beard. Gasps of air escaping his lungs. As you peer into the crimsoned face of heaven's only Son, remember this: "God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners." (Rom. 5:8) Don't trust other yardsticks, although we often do. Because the sight of the healthy or successful prompts us to conclude, “God must really love her. She's so blessed with health, money, good looks, and skill.” Or, we gravitate to the other extreme. Lonely and frail in the hospital bed, we deduce, “God doesn’t love me. How could he? Just look at me.”

Success signals God's love no more than struggles indicate the lack of it. The definitive, God-sanctioned gauge is not a good day or a bad break, but the dying hours of his Son. So, consider them often. Let the gap between trips to the cross diminish daily. Discover what Brainerd meant when he said, "My heart was swallowed up in God most of the day." Accept this invitation from your Savior: "Abide in My love." (John 15:9)

When you abide somewhere, you live there. You grow familiar with the surroundings. You don't pull into the driveway and ask, "Where’s the garage?" Or, you don't consult the blueprint to find the kitchen. To abide is to be at home. To abide in Christ's love is to make his love your home – not a roadside park you occasionally visit, but your preferred dwelling. You rest in him. Eat in him. When thunder claps, you step beneath his roof. His walls secure you from the winds. His fireplace warms you from the winters of life. As John urged, "We take up permanent residence in a life of love." (1 John 4:16) You abandon the old house of false love, and move into his home of real love.

But adapting to this new home can take some time. The first few nights in a new home and you can wake up and walk into a wall. I did. Climbed out of bed to get a glass of water, turned left, and flattened my nose. The dimensions of the room were different. The dimensions of God's love are different, too. You've lived a life in a house of imperfect love. As a result, you think God is going to cut you just like your coach did, or abandon you as your father did, or judge you as false religion did, or curse you as your friend did. He won't. But it takes time to be convinced. For that reason, abide in him. Hang on to Christ the same way a branch clutches to the vine.

According to Jesus, the branch models his definition of “abiding.” "As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me." (John 15:4) Does a branch ever release the vine? Only at the risk of death. Does the branch ever stop eating? Nope. It receives nutrients twenty-four hours a day. Then would you say the branch is vine-dependent? I would. So, how well do you pass the vine test? Do you ever release yourself from Christ's love? Go unnourished? Do you ever stop drinking from his reservoir? Do so and you’ll be at the peril of a roundworm’s existence.

By sealing itself off against the world, the roundworm can endure extended seasons of drought. It essentially shuts down all of its systems. Releasing water until it's as dry as a cotton ball, the roundworm enters a state known as anhydrobiosis, meaning "life without water." A quarter of its body weight is converted to a material that encircles and protects its inner organs. It then shrinks to about 7 percent of its normal size and waits out the dry spell. Scientists assure us that humans can't do this, but I'm not so sure. A wife leaves her husband – “Now that the kids are grown," she announces, "it's my time to have fun." Recent headlines reported on a man who murdered his estranged wife and kids. His justification? If he can't have them, no one will. Anhydrobiosis of the heart. In-drawn emotions. Callous souls. Coiled and re-coiled against the love drought of life. Hard shelled to survive the harsh desert.

But we were not made to live that way. So, what can we do? From the file entitled, "It Ain't Gonna Happen," how about this suggestion. Let's make Christ's command a federal law. Everyone has to make God's love his or her home: “Let it herewith be stated and hereby declared: No person may walk out into the world to begin the day until he or she has stood beneath the cross to receive God's love.” Cabbies. Presidents. Preachers. Dentists and truck drivers. All are required to linger at the fountain of his favor until all their thirst is gone. I mean, a can't-drink-another-drop kind of satisfaction. All hearts hydrous. Then, and only then, are they permitted to enter the interstates, biology labs, classrooms and boardrooms of the world.

Can you imagine the change we'd see? Less honking and locking horns; more hugging and helping kids. We'd pass fewer judgments and more compliments. Forgiveness would skyrocket because how could you refuse to give someone a second chance when God has made your life one big mulligan? Doctors would replace sedative prescriptions with Scripture meditation: "Six times an hour reflect on God's promise: 'I have loved you with an everlasting love.'" (Jer. 31:3) And can't you just hear the newscasts? "Since the implementation of the love law, divorce rates have dropped, cases of runaway children have plummeted, and Republicans and Democrats have disbanded their parties and decided to work together." Wild idea? I agree. God's love can't be legislated. But it can be chosen.

So why not choose it? For the sake of your heart. For the sake of your home. For Christ's sake, and yours, choose it. The prayer is as powerful as it is simple: "Lord, I receive your love. Nothing can separate me from your love." Go deeper. Take a breath and descend so deeply into his love that you see nothing else. Then you can join the psalmist in saying: “Who have I in heaven but you? I desire you more than anything on earth. My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever . . . . My heart has heard you say, ‘Come and talk with me.’ And my heart responds, “Lord, I am coming.’" (Ps. 73:25-26; 27:8)

Dive deeper into God’s love – the experience is made sweeter the deeper we delve.

Grace,

Randy