Love and Grace

I’m sitting in a large hall beneath three futuristic looking chandeliers – the oddities in this medieval room otherwise full of columns, crests, and iron-wrought railings. The echoes of our worship still cling to our fingertips and tongues, both of which I now use to embrace one of my junior small group girls whose body is shaking with sobs. Eying my co-leader, she knows to lead out the rest of the group to our room where the chocolate treasure trove will be unveiled, and where, Lord-willing, deep thoughts will be shared and discussed. We have just heard amazing truth from Colossians. God’s Spirit is at work in many hearts, and I see his evidence before me as my girl and I smile at each other through tears.

Grace (not her real name) allows me to hold her head to my shoulder while I wait, wondering how best to pray for her. When she finally finds her voice again, I’m genuinely surprised at the part of the message that God has struck into her heart this evening. “Why does God love me? I know myself, and I don’t love me. How could God find something lovable within me?!”

I’m not quite sure what to say. My mind searches frantically for a clear answer to this question in Scripture. Nothing. What a mysterious thing, God’s love. If simple human love is a topic best left to our poets and philosophers, how can I even hope to describe God’s perfect love that has called all of creation into being and endows it with purpose and meaning?

Grace is right. There really isn’t anything lovable within us, excepting that God puts it there. He created us out of dust and then elects to lavish his love on us simple creatures. “He rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves … One you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now he has reconciled you by Christ’s physical body through death to present you holy in his sight…” (Col 1). It’s all him; our salvation is completely undeserved and unearned, and so is his love for us. But that doesn’t explain the why.

I watch our shadows dance on the columns behind Grace. What if I chose to love my shadow? Would that seem as wasteful as God’s love for me, a mere human? How could my shadow ever capture the essence of my soul, yet – as we just heard that night – all the fullness of God’s deity dwells in Christ, and Christ dwells in us. A God who contains all treasures of wisdom and knowledge living inside of me?! Am I meant to understand?

Eventually I am able to look Grace in the eye and shrug my shoulders. “Nope, I’ll never know why he loves you. Or me. But I know that he does, and that’s enough.” She doesn’t nod right away, her thoughts obviously distant, outside our current castle walls. I fear my answer fell far short of any wisdom. I know it did. But eventually she takes my Bible from my hands, and while she reads again about God’s love for her through Christ, I am able to do nothing but dwell again on this truth: I owe my life to love and grace.