I struggle to believe it. I strain against it. These words that Jesus keeps whispering to me, “Beloved. I love you.”
I question, how? Do you not see all that I leave undone? Do you not see the mistakes I have made? Do you not see that I am too comfortable, too safe? Don’t you see that I am not passionate enough? That I am not doing enough? Do you not see that maybe I don’t love you enough to be loved by you?
The whisper continues and I feel myself being wooed. “Beloved. I love you.”
I feel it in the hundreds of verses that I copy from my concordance search of “love.” Words of steadfast love written through the ages. I feel it in the tender care of my husband who patiently, calmly, quietly puts love into action. I feel it in the little boy arms wrapped around me with their enthusiasm and simple acceptance of love and life. I feel it in friends calling and praying. I feel it in the sun shining warm on my face and the daffodils lifting their bright faces. I feel it in the strength and grace I am given to enjoy the simple moments of another day.
The whisper continues and I allow myself to be still and be wooed. “Beloved. I love you.”
In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. -1 John 4:9