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Why Do You Love Jesus?

But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect. 1 Peter 3:15

A friend of mine once shared a story with me about a visit to her son’s elementary school for parent visitation day.

A little girl in his class had her turn as the “star of the day” and was given the opportunity to share some things about herself with the other students. After telling some stories about a few fun adventures she’d experienced, she finished by adding, “And I love Jesus.”

Caught off-guard by this bold declaration, my friend rejoiced inwardly that this child had been able to proclaim her love for Jesus in the public school! Anxious to see what would happen next, she watched as the little girl selected three students from the class to ask her one additional question.

One child wanted to hear more about her trip to Disney World. A young boy asked about the NFL game she’d mentioned. And then the last little girl surprised my friend by raising the curious question, “Why do you love Jesus?”

All eyes rested on the star of the day. Why, indeed? A hush fell over the room as both the children and the visiting parents waited to hear her answer.

The hush grew to a tense silence, her unanswered question hanging in the air on pins and needles. No reply followed. The star could find no words to speak in response.

Moments passed before the teacher finally redirected the conversation and brought her time of sharing to a close. And what of the little girl who wondered why this Jesus was worth loving?

She never got her answer.

My heart goes out to the star of the day. I probably would have sat there dumbfounded as well if someone had asked me that question at her age. If I had found the courage to muster up a reply, I’m quite sure my answer would’ve disappointed. “My parents told me I should.”

I spent years fearfully dreading the reality that Christians are supposed to witness to others and share the hope of the Gospel. I never wanted to tell anyone about Jesus.

More than two decades would pass before I realized why it frightened me so much. The truth is, I didn’t have anything to say. I had no real testimony to share.

I knew a lot about Jesus, but I didn’t really know Him. I had learned to respond with the “right” answers, but that’s all they were. Empty, recited answers.

I was 26 before I discovered the difference. Jesus just showed up one day when I was working through a Bible study.

I wasn’t looking for Him. I was too busy filling in the blanks in my workbook. After all, I couldn’t leave embarrassing empty spaces on the page for eyes to glimpse at our next small group meeting.

But then one question—four little words—leapt from the page and changed my life forever.

Do you love Jesus?

I lifted my pen to answer “yes” without even thinking. But that day Jesus decided we were going to get real. I’d been pretending long enough, and He had determined to show me the truth about myself.

Conviction fell over me like a shroud, drowning out any pretense. In that moment, I saw what Jesus saw. I didn’t love Him. I never had. I’d been saying it all my life, but they were just words on my lips that didn’t reflect my heart.

I remember my hand trembling as I struggled to answer the question. I couldn’t put down the answer I’d started to write. Through the blur of tears, I managed to scratch out two letters on the page. No.

That moment changed everything. I chose to see what Jesus revealed about the darkness in my heart and stepped into His light.

I repented.

And I discovered I wanted to remain there. I realized I didn’t know how to love Him, but I wanted to. I wanted to offer Him my heart and trust Him to teach me about Himself. I wanted relationship.

And so the little girl who had grown up in church, attended Christian school, prayed the sinner’s prayer, and married a Christian man, finally got saved at 26.

I began a relationship with Jesus where I invited Him to lead and I would follow. This time, love shaped the foundation instead of knowledge, and He began to heal my broken places. And the more I discovered about Him, the more I realized I wanted more of Him.

Today, if you were to ask me, “Why do you love Jesus?” you would find I have no loss for words. Instead of Christian platitudes about the cross and salvation, I would tell you sincerely that I love Him because He rescued me out of my emptiness and taught me the way of love.

He is the source of every good thing in my life. He whispers encouragement to my soul when I’m fearful. He assures me of His love when I’m broken and losing my way. He meets me in His Word every time I give Him the opportunity. He has given me purpose. He empowers me to be what I can’t be without Him. He rejoices with me in gladness, and He catches my tears so He can redeem them and bring beauty out of my pain.

Beloved, I love Jesus with everything that I am. He is worth every moment I give Him, every battle I fight for Him, every prayer I utter to Him. I pray you will not settle for knowledge about your Savior. Press your way past the crowds “doing church” and enter the inner sanctuary where His Presence dwells. There He waits to reveal Himself to your seeking heart.

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity.” Jeremiah 29:13-14

A Mother’s Struggle to Trust

Not again.

Clutching my Bible and prayer journal, I retreated to my favorite chair, eager to spend some time with the Lord. Well, that’s what I told myself anyway. I really just wanted to feel better.

Here I am, Lord. I scratched the words on the page, searching for where to begin. Worship filtered through my headphones, the uplifting beat of the melody marking a stark contrast to my mood. My mind tuned to the lyrics, “All we need is You.”

Instantly, conviction pierced my heart with the unsettling knowledge that I didn’t agree—at least not that day. That day I needed more than Jesus. I needed Him to fix things.

Guilt compelled me to confess. I’m sorry, Lord. I want you to be enough, but this is too much . . .

A jagged scar from an old wound had just been torn open. The familiar longing for acceptance tugged at my heart, crying out for satisfaction. Rejection had found me again. But this time, it had come for my son.

That changes things. I can handle the battle when I’m at the heart of it. I’ve learned to trust God’s plans for me even when I can’t make sense of them. He’s proven Himself faithful over and over again.

But this felt altogether different. This wasn’t about me. This time my child’s heart had been shattered, and I desperately wanted to fix it. I can’t be expected to idly watch one of my precious ones suffer.

My heart rebelled at the injustice of it. Anger mingled with the pain, begging retaliation. This wasn’t fair. He deserved better.

God should do something.

Soon His gentle Spirit stirred within my heart, lifting the veil so I could see. Realization dawned, penetrating my grief with this undeniable truth: God knew. He understood rejection. He understood the pain of seeing His Son cast aside—of wanting the world to recognize His great value, yet seeing it deny Him.

“He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him.” John 1:11, ESV

In that moment, I knew His suffering. I felt His pain. How the Father must have wept when they rejected Jesus. How He still must weep as we repeatedly devalue His only begotten Son . . . the Son He loves . . . the Son He gave.

Hope flickered through my sorrow, God’s own understanding of my feelings encouraging me to press in close. I asked Him to speak to me, to help me trust Him with my own son’s fragile heart. I needed Him to help me believe what I knew His Word declared: that His plans for him are far greater than my own.

True to who He is, God answered. Once again, His Spirit stirred, reminding me of truth. God never allows suffering for its own sake. Suffering, according to Scripture, marks the path to glory.

“But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.” 1 Peter 4:13, NIV

Then I knew. God had glory to reveal in my son’s life.

This pain would pass, and God would somehow bring good through it. It wasn’t what I would choose for him, but the God who created Him and wrote his story knew what I couldn’t. For whatever reason, my son needed to walk through this. His despair would not be in vain. Through it God would reveal Himself.

I sat in the stillness, pen in hand, and listened, inviting the God who speaks to do so again. Soon His quiet whisper stirred within me, and I found my hand moving once more across the page.

He is mine, beloved, just as you are mine. I AM greater than his pain . . . than your pain. You will soon see.

A promise.

Tears fell in response, my heart hopeful. God always keeps His Word.

I thought of Abraham and how he must have felt as he placed his son, Isaac, upon that altar. I imagine he did it with trembling hands and a breaking heart. But place him there, he did. And Isaac received the blessing that came through his father’s promise.

God had spoken blessings over my son as well, and I had a choice to make. I could retreat into my anger and justify my sorrow. Or, I could trust God to keep His Word in my son’s life. I could fight to change things and try to manipulate his circumstances so I’d like the look of them better, or I could choose to believe the God who speaks and entrust my son to Him with open hands.

I decided I wouldn’t withhold him from the God who loves him even more than I do . . . and then it came. I experienced Jesus’ promise from John 14:27,

 “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.” ESV

The wonder of it always astounds me. I can’t explain the how of it. I simply revel in the miracle of it. But when I run toward Jesus in my confusion instead of from Him—and I listen—I find peace.

It happens the moment I resolve in my heart to believe.

Did God Really Say . . . ?

Following Jesus isn’t getting any easier, is it? While God’s plumb line for distinguishing right and wrong has remained eternally the same, the world’s keeps changing. Things that our grandparents would have considered appalling have become commonplace. Acceptable. The lines have blurred, and so have our convictions.

Dear one, allowing anything other than God’s truth to shape our thinking leads to trouble. Sadly, tasting the sweet enticements of this world eventually results in death.

Kelly Minter witnessed this lesson experienced the hard way.

Lessons From a Lizard

Last week I was out for one of my neighborhood runs on an exceptionally hot and humid day in Nashville. Stifling is the word that comes to mind. I was about 20 minutes into my route when I noticed the oddest thing on the sidewalk . . . a lizard of some sort . . .about 9 inches long . . .

The really bizarre thing . . . is that its head was stuck in a Dr. Pepper can. I am not making this up. I have several theories, but my best one is that the glistening drops of sugary water lured this reptile in on a hot summer’s day. The poor little thing had worked so hard to wedge its head in there that it couldn’t get it out. It suffocated in the smothering heat.

. . . I couldn’t help but catch the symbolism. As I stood there staring at this peculiar sight, I though of the many times I had discovered a few drops I thought were sure to offer life. They were sugary sweet and went down smoothly, offering a respite from the blaze of summer’s heat. . . In the end they left me more thirsty and desperate than before . . . [Kelly Minter, No Other Gods, Lifeway Press, 2007, p.54-56]

Funny how some things are so easy to walk into and so impossible to back out of.

Have you ever found that to be true? At first something seemed so appealing, so right, so perfect. So you went after it. But once you got yourself in, you discovered a whole other side you hadn’t bargained for: the death side. The part that, had you known about it up front, would have stopped you from ever going in.

Beloved, God sees all of it, including the death that follows. That’s precisely why he has established boundaries for us, not to keep us from experiencing the sweet, sugary taste of momentary refreshment, but to protect us from the suffocating death that accompanies it.

The enemy has been deceiving and tempting us out of God’s protection since the Garden of Eden. Perhaps it’s time we got wise to his schemes.

Look at God’s instructions to Adam in Genesis 2:16-17.

“You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.”

Pretty straight forward, right? Eat anything you want, except this one thing that will bring you death. Simple enough.

Enter the serpent.

“Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?” Genesis 3:1

God tells us one thing. The prince of this world tells us something else.

That’s where our enemy always begins, dear one, getting us to question God. He raises doubts about His motives, His goodness, His trustworthiness. Did God really say . . .

  •       Sex is only for marriage
  •       Wives should submit to their husbands
  •       Drunkenness is sin

Then he makes us believe we’re forfeiting something by obeying God.

“You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman.  “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” Genesis 3:4-5

And here’s the really tricky part. The world’s prince always offers some truth in his deceptions. Their eyes were opened (verse 7), and they did become like God in the sense that they would know both good and evil (verse 22). But what really hurt them—what devastated them— was what the enemy failed to reveal: the consequences of experiencing those things.

Had the serpent given full disclosure, I’m quite certain Adam and Eve would’ve made a different choice.  But that’s not his way.  No, our enemy reveals only what we’d perceive as benefit to entice us.  The rest of the dark horror that follows he keeps hidden, relishing the moment we will discover it for ourselves. 

Imagine his glee as he led Adam and Eve to experience a rush of emotions they had never known before. Shame. Fear. Guilt. Isolation. Blame. 

Imagine their terror as each chilling feeling gripped them and they began to face the reality of what they’d done.  Feel the awareness creeping over them that the relationship they’d known with their Creator was lost.  Sadly, that wasn’t the end of their pain.

Seeds of sin that we allow the enemy to cultivate in us don’t just sprout immediate fruit. 

They continue to birth consequences long after they’ve been sown, even transcending generations. 

As a mother of two boys, I’m especially stricken by the unimaginable grief that must have consumed Adam and Eve as they suffered the loss of a beloved son.  I wonder if they held his lifeless body in their arms, staring in disbelief into the vacant face of the first dead man, their precious Abel.   Far worse must have been the knowledge that he was taken from them at the hand of their firstborn.  In one terrible moment, jealousy and rage—two devastating results of their choice—stole their two oldest boys from them forever. 

Beloved, when you disregard God’s instruction, you may experience a momentary thrill. But what follows will devastate you and those you hold most dear.  The consequences are not always immediate, but they will always come. 

This is precisely why salvation comes through faith, dear one. We must decide whose voice we will trust to guide our steps. Will we follow the voice of Truth who always gives us full disclosure? Or will we follow the world’s prince and allow him to deceive us into death?

I don’t know about you, dear one, but I choose Jesus.