I was thinking… How is it even possible to love my children as much as I do?  I thought to myself that no one could ever have a measure of love for my kids that even comes close to mine.  As I looked at them with the eyes only a mother has for her babies, I heard a little voice inside reminding me that there is one who’s love surpasses even mine… Jesus.  Almost as quickly as I heard that first thought, a second one came.  Jesus loves me that much too.  What a crazy and unique perspective to have.  If my love for my children is that great, and His love for us exceeds that… WOW!  It’s practically unfathomable.  I know that it seems like such a simple concept.  Duh!  Jesus loves us.  It doesn’t get more basic than that.  But do we really “get it”?  We are constantly putting “conditions” on His love for us.  I think of how my love for my children is so great and so unconditional that I would GLADLY give my life to save even just one of them.  They don’t earn my love and sacrifice through their goodness.  It’s my goodness as a mother (if I may so brag) that causes me to gift them with my love and willingness, even pleasure to sacrifice for them.  Truth be told, they are really the gift given to me… But you get the point.  That’s what Christ did for us.  His love for me was so great that He DID die to save me.  What a powerful thought. 

Put it into a “closer to home” perspective.  How would you feel about me if I took a bullet for you?  That bullet was headed right for you and I threw myself in front of it.  I died so you could live.  How would you feel about me then?  You’d be eternally grateful to me for what I did.  You’d testify to all your family and friends… maybe even strangers on the street about what I had done for you.  If anybody said one unkind word about me you’d jump to my defense.  The memory of what I had done would forever live in your heart.  Now think about Jesus.  Not only did he take that bullet, but he suffered unspeakable torture…  for you.  He wasn’t praised for what He was doing.  He was ridiculed.  He didn’t jump in front of a bullet as a quick, no time to think, reaction.  He left His “perfect” to enter our “fallen” and accepted everything that he suffered through… for you.  He allowed himself to be tortured and humiliated.  He allowed spikes to be hammered through his flesh.  He breathed his last and died… for you, for me, for my babies.  If you would be willing to praise me, defend me, and forever love and honor me for taking a bullet for you, how much more for Jesus?  I want to be that grateful person.  I want to acknowledge what happened and never be ashamed, embarrassed or afraid to tell the account of my savior.  I want to testify to the world about every beautiful thing He’s done.  He loves me.  He loves you.  He loves unconditionally.  What a perfectly beautiful place to start.