What's Good About Good Friday?

Matthew 27:46 About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice,

"Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?”, which means  “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”

[To those of you who take the time to read these posts, my apologies for being away for a while. I find myself wrestling with a lack of "spark" these last several weeks. I suspect it's a part of the grieving process, and I trust that, in time, it will return.]

It's odd, isn't it, that on the day we call "Good" Friday, we commemorate the most unjust and torturous death of an innocent man. What's "good" about that?

The answer lies in the fact that Jesus had no sins of His own that He needed to make right before God the Father. As a result, He was the only One qualified to be our substitute. You can't take something dirty and make it spotless with an already-dirty cloth; you need a spotless cloth to do that!

God had already been teaching us this concept in the Jewish celebration of Passover. A Jewish family would set aside a spotless, blemish-free lamb, observe it carefully for several days to ensure that they hadn't missed something, and then on the evening of Passover, they would sacrifice it. The blood of that spotless lamb would be sprinkled on the door posts and lintel of their homes to remind them that, when they were slaves in Egypt, God had freed them from slavery, and brought judgment on the Egyptians for harming His special people and defying God. The people of Israel had been protected from the judgment of God under the blood of a spotless lamb.

Jesus was called "the Lamb of God" by John the Baptist (John 1:29); His name signified His purpose. The Bible tells us we are slaves to sin; Jesus came to free us from that slavery. God, being holy and righteous, MUST judge sin and, therefore, us as sinners. But we can find protection under the blood -- the blood of Jesus Christ, the spotless Lamb of God who was sacrificed in our place. It was no accident that Jesus was crucified at Passover; He was God's Passover Lamb who was to take away the sins of the world. And that judgment that fell on Egypt? God killed all the firstborn in Egypt, man and animal, except those under the blood. But this time, on the cross of Calvary, it was God's "firstborn" that was killed to provide the blood under which all others could find protection.

Without it, we are hopeless and doomed to an eternity of God's judgment. But because Jesus was willing to die in our place, we will NEVER face that judgment if we believe and accept His gift of life and trust Him.

Yesterday I stood at my son's grave and wept. I miss him. And yet I was comforted by the fact that he did just that; he asked Jesus for that offered forgiveness, and he trusted Jesus that His promise of eternal life was real and true. I will see him again.

That's what makes this Good Friday. I pray that today you'll accept Jesus' offer too.

Firstborn

I'm a firstborn son. In some European families, that can be a big deal. In fact, I'm the firstborn son of the firstborn son.

So I guess a firstborn son of a firstborn son having a firstborn son is kind of special too. Although, to be honest, it really didn't matter to me if I had a son or a daughter. We didn't know, before the birth, whether it was a boy or a girl that was on the way, and we were okay with that. We were delighted to become parents! I remember vividly the day of David's birth. I was teaching, as was Judy, and had had several interruptions to my class already. So on the fourth intercom call in, I was perhaps a little abrupt. The secretary apologized and said, "There's a Joan on the line, and she's says you'll want to take this call. Do you want me to take a message?" to which I replied "No!" and bolted out of the room to find an actual phone line. When I got there, Joan, our adoption worker, said, "The birth mother has gone into labour. She knew you couldn't be there in person, but she wanted you to know. I'll call you when the baby is delivered." I called Judy to let her know; we laughed and cried at the same time. And now I had to go back to my classroom and try to teach!  Late that evening, Joan called us to say, "Congratulations! You have a son!" Pretty overwhelming. After years of waiting, it was hard to believe the adventure was truly about to begin.

In ancient times, the firstborn son was the heir to his father's estate, regardless of how big or small that estate might be. The Old Testament indicates that the firstborn son received a double portion of the inheritance, in contrast to his brothers who would receive a single portion. A few minutes could make all the difference, as was the case with Jacob and Esau (Genesis 25:24-26). Esau came out first, just before his twin Jacob, so he received the double portion (the "birthright", as it was called) and he valued it so little that he gave it up for some stew, even though his father was very wealthy and favoured him. Despite not being the firstborn, Jacob became the father of the 12 tribes of Israel.

Jacob and his sons and their families moved to the land of Goshen in Egypt during the famine, when Joseph was second-in-command to Pharaoh, arguably the ruler of the civilized world at that time. The people of Israel became numerous and were eventually seen as a potential threat to Egypt, so a new Pharaoh enslaved them. Later, as the book of Exodus tells us, Moses is commissioned by God to lead His people out of slavery to Egypt and into the Promised Land. Pharaoh refuses to listen and the ten plagues, each one representing a "dethroning" of ten key gods of Egypt, are brought on the land and the people of Egypt. The last of the plagues results in the death of the firstborn, both of the herds and of the people, from the lowliest slave right to the palace of Pharaoh.

Having suffered the death of my firstborn, and still journeying through the grieving process, I cannot imagine what that must have been. It was painful enough for me and my family to go through it; we had so many that rallied around us and supported us through that difficult time. But what if everyone you knew was ravaged by the same tragedy? Every neighbour, every colleague, every extended family member was devastated by the identical event. I've read that passage, that account, many times, and never really stopped to consider the extent, the impact, of that final plague.

The only ones exempt were those who obeyed the warning of God and followed His instructions regarding the protection found under the blood. If they took the blood of a perfect, unblemished lamb and sprinkled it on the doorposts and lintel of their home, the Angel of the Lord would pass over them and no death would befall them. In Exodus 12:13 we read God saying, "... when I see the blood, I will pass over you." Why would God do such a thing as kill all the firstborn? Let's not forget that there were nine plagues before this one, nine warnings that God was who He said He was and that He had the power to do what He said He would do. And yet Pharaoh continued to defy God and harden his heart. I have no doubt that some Egyptians were warned by their Israelite slaves of what to do and may have followed the instructions and thus been spared. But it was also intended as a foreshadowing of what was to come.

There was another firstborn who would die, because He would be the ultimate Passover Lamb.

Jesus was, humanly speaking, the firstborn of Mary, but not of Joseph. This was essential for a number of reasons. As the Messiah and future King, He had to be the heir, and heir of a royal line. Joseph, His adopted father as it were, was a descendant of King David, but in his genealogy in Matthew 1, we find Jeconiah (also Jehoiachin), who was cursed so that no descendant of his would ever sit on the throne of David (Jeremiah 22:30). Thus Jesus could not be Joseph's physical descendant, since He would then be under the same curse. Mary was also a descendant of King David, as we see in her genealogy in Luke 3, and this genealogy bypasses the curse of Jeconiah. Thus, Jesus, the Messiah, is the rightful heir to the throne of David.  He is also God's Son, and as such has all authority. Yet He set it all aside to be mistreated, unjustly accused and sentenced to a cruel and humiliating death on a Roman cross, in order that the defiance toward God of all mankind (like Pharaoh) might be paid for, and that His blood, the blood of THE Passover Lamb for all mankind, might be available for us to apply, to protect us from the judgment of God that would result in all our deaths.  Philippians 2:5-8 reads, "... have the same mindset as Christ Jesus, who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to His own advantage; rather He made Himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.  And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to death -- even death on a cross!"

Jesus is the fulfillment of all the Old Testament pictures. The passover lamb was observed for a time; as was Jesus. The passover lamb had to be without blemish; as was Jesus. The passover lamb had to be slain; as was Jesus.

But the lamb could be unblemished, spotless, slain -- and still you could suffer the judgment of God! Why? Because the blood had to be applied! If you didn't apply the blood, it could not be effective to protect you from judgment. And that is true about the ultimate Passover Lamb; regardless of His purity and perfection, regardless of His obedience in going to die on the cross, regardless of His blood flowing to pay for sin ... if you don't apply it, you are still under the judgment of God. But you don't have to be! Today, right where you are, you can ask God for His forgiveness because Jesus, the Passover Lamb, died in your place and paid the penalty that was rightly yours. God the Father gave His firstborn, willingly, knowingly, to be the Lamb that would be slain, so that when God saw the blood of His beloved Son applied to your sin, He would "pass over" you; the judgment had already fallen on His Son in your place.

You just need to apply the blood of the Firstborn, your Passover Lamb.

Teaching Teenagers: Greatest Job Ever

I have the greatest job ever.  I get to go to work each day and interact with teenagers.

Some people think I should get my head checked.  Oh, they don't come right out and say it, but I hear the message between the lines.  They say things like, "I wouldn't do your job for anything.  It must be so difficult dealing with all the disrespect, the rudeness, the entitlement, etc. etc.  Don't you find it's much worse today than it was when we were kids?"

No. I don't.

I find that the teens I teach today are much like the teens I taught 27 years ago when I first started this job.  They're trying to figure out what they want to be, and who they want to be. They are often stuck in this in-between universe of no longer being children, but not quite being adults.  They want to be treated like they have value.  They want to know you care, way before they care what you know.

Sometimes my job is unenviable: I have to teach them mathematics, which they sometimes struggle with, which they often do not see a purpose for, and which does not necessarily sit high on their somewhat hormone-driven priority list.  And sometimes there is a history there, which means my first job is to convince them that, this time, if they will trust me and do as I suggest, it can be different from their previous experiences. That's the challenge for me, and I am reasonably successful.

The kids I teach ARE different in some ways.  I think it is WAY harder for them to be teenagers today than it was when I was a teen, and I thought it was tough THEN!  Far more families are broken today than 30 years ago.  There are far more distractions today than there were 30 years ago, cell phones being only one of them (and believe me, their PARENTS are often just as addicted, considering the number of times it's a parent that is texting with my student while they're in class!)  And it is far more complicated navigating the whole "dating, sex and gender" thing today than it was 30 years ago. Teens need our help and support, not our judgement!  And judging by the teens I teach, a great deal of you in the parent role are doing a great job, even if it feels like you don't have a clue what you're doing!

Case in point:  last couple of days have been emotionally difficult, for no real reason.  The sorrow and the tears have been simmering just below the surface, and yesterday was exceptionally challenging.  In my first period class, I got choked up pretty bad.  I decided to just be honest with the kids.  "I'm having a pretty rough day.  I don't want it to be awkward for you.  I just want you to know that I'm trying to push through but it's hard."  They all knew the events of this past January.  I ended up having to let each of my three classes know this, because I was just holding it together.  They were great.  There were some in each class who offered a kind word, a wish for a better afternoon, or a better evening. They demonstrated compassion.

If that doesn't sound like the stereotype you associate with teens, then maybe your stereotype needs an adjustment.  The teens I know are awesome.

Of Sandboxes and God

Years ago, I built a sandbox for David.  Not some little Mr. Turtle sandbox; it was a MANLY sandbox!  It measured 8 feet to a side, had seats on all four corners, and held 1750 lbs of sand!  I put landscape fabric under it so the worms wouldn't come up through the bottom nor would the earth underneath mix with the sand.  I worked hard to build it well and complete it quickly.  Then I presented it to David.  His eyes glowed!  And I went off to my next task.

Within 5 minutes, he was right behind me again.  "Daddy, will you come and play with me in the sandbox?"  I found myself torn; I felt the tyranny of the list of unfinished tasks I needed to complete. But I also remembered, with a smile, a story my mother told me.

Her firstborn (me!) was bored and asking her what he could do.  She built what amounted to a small city out of Lego, brought out some Hot Wheels cars and said, "There you go! Have fun!" Then off she went to finish her vacuuming, or some such task.  Sure enough, five minutes later, there I was, asking, "Will you play with me?"  She jokingly said to me, "When you grow up and have a family, I hope you have a child just like you!"  I thought maybe I could avoid the curse by adoption, but God has a sense of humour, doesn't He?

I learned an important lesson about my son that day: my David treasured my presence in the sandbox far more than my present of the sandbox.

And here I am, so many years later, realizing another, more profound lesson: God feels the same way! He treasures my presence, my time, my communication with Him far more than any present, any financial or physical gift I might bring, anything I can do for Him.  Oh sure, if those gifts are given from the heart, He certainly values them.  But He doesn't need my resources; they all came from Him in the first place! What He desires is my time with Him, spent talking and listening to Him.  He values my fellowship with Him.

Some people view God as being like me with the sandbox; He spent time making something pretty amazing: a beautiful planet, a stunning garden, delicious food, exotic animals. And He placed Adam and Eve in the middle of it, then walked away and left them to figure things out, because He had other important things to get to. As I've written before, this is patently false because the Bible teaches clearly in the book of Genesis, chapter 3, that God had a habit of coming to walk in the garden with Adam and Eve.  Think of how nice that would be; the cool of the day, no mosquitoes biting you, no thistles in your bare feet, just the soft grass, the warm air, the fragrance of the flowers ... and God right there so you can ask any question that comes to mind.

Many's the time I wished I could text message God with my questions! Or call Him and hear His voice. Or facetime Him. Especially lately. Instead He chooses to have us use prayer -- a direct hotline straight to His office, as it were. We're just not so crazy about the method because we want a clear answer now. And God often chooses to teach us the answer, rather than just give it to us.

Ever notice how, if you pray for patience, He never gives it to you.  Instead He gives you opportunities to learn patience.  I've done that with my own children.  Rather than give them money for something they want, I give them an opportunity to earn the money they need.  Why?  Because they value it far more that way, or they learn that it wasn't really that important to them in the first place.  And if I'm smart, I devise an opportunity for them to do something with me, so I can have time with them, because I love them and I value the relationship I have with them.

When we lost our David, I had a choice: I could shake my fist at God, blame Him for everything, and turn my back on Him forever. I would still have my grief, I would still feel lost at times, but I would have no purpose nor any comfort.  Or I could turn to Him, cling to Him, cry out to Him, knowing He was listening and weeping with me, and have the comfort of His presence and of knowing there was a purpose in all of it, even if I didn't understand it all.  How do I know He wept with me?  Why wouldn't He?  He wept over Jerusalem, and He loves me like a father loves his child.  My earthly dad wept with me; why wouldn't my Heavenly Dad?

And here again is the reflection of the intimacy He desires with us; He grieves in our losses, He rejoices in our victories, and He delights in our interaction with Him.

Don't neglect the gifts of your finances and time and strength; the scale with which you measure those out reflects the value you place on what He's accomplished for you.  But the next time you get together with Him, really spend some time with Him, like you would like your child to spend with you.  Get to know Him.  Share with Him in prayer. And listen for Him to respond to you. You'll find it will take your relationship with Him to a whole new level.

Thy Will Be Done

Luke 22:42

"Father, if You are willing, take this cup from me;

yet not My will but Yours be done."

February 17, 2017 was my birthday ... the first one without David.

They say the first year -- the year of Firsts -- is the hardest. I didn't know how I was going to be, so I decided to show myself some grace, take the day off and stay home.  It was a contemplative day.

I found myself thinking about the phrase "Thy Will Be Done", the title of this post.  I asked myself "To what extent am I committed to saying that? What if God requires my health of me? Or my daughter Kate? Or my wife Judy?"  And I considered Jesus.

Jesus, as the Son of God, had at His disposal all the incomprehensible glories of heaven.  When God asked Him to go to earth, to teach mankind what God the Father was like, to leave "the splendors of heaven, knowing His destiny was the lonely hill of Golgotha, there to lay down His life for me" as the old hymn says, Jesus response was "I delight to do Your will". He would really set all that aside to go and be born in a smelly animal stable, live a life of poverty and mostly obscurity, be wrongfully accused, unjustly tried and sentenced by cowards and liars, and finally be executed on a cross, the Roman pinnacle of torture devices -- and He would delight to do that?

Consider what Hebrews 12, verse 2, says: "[Jesus], who for the joy set before Him, endured the cross, despising the shame, ..." What was that joy that was set before Him? Part of it was that we would be restored to a relationship with Him, as it was in the beginning.   Ephesians 1:18 refers to "the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints". Did you catch that? Not the riches of our inheritance in Him but His inheritance in us! Jesus is that much in love with you, that He considers you a rich inheritance! 

So how is it possible, then, that a God who prizes you so highly suddenly becomes capricious or spitefully cruel? It doesn't make sense. God doesn't play mind games,  nor does He get a kick out of causing us misery; a caring father doesn't do that. When something painful occurs in our lives, then, and we know God has allowed it, we need to ask Him to show us His purpose, so we can line up with it.

When Jesus prayed in the garden of Gethsemane,  He was facing, in His humanity, a horrifying experience; the excruciating (even this word has the same root!) pain of death on a cross. But in His full deity, He was also horrified at having to bear our sin -- He, the Holy Son of God. And His Father, who had always looked on Him in love, would soon look on Him in fierce anger and righteous judgment, as Jesus bore the penalty of our sin.

And yet He prayed " ... not My will but Yours be done."  

Trust, love, unity of purpose. I want that in my relationship with God too.

Lady Antebellum's Hillary Scott and family performed this beautiful song, "Thy Will Be Done"  She says:

"I wrote this song about a very recent experience that left me heartbroken, asking why, and facing some of my most difficult days. This song is my letter to God. As I ask some really hard questions, I hold onto the truth that there is so much to the story of my life that I can't see. But, that I still choose to trust Him."

I'm so confused

I know I heard You loud and clear

So, I followed through

Somehow I ended up here

I don’t wanna think

I may never understand

That my broken heart is a part of Your plan

When I try to pray

All I’ve got is hurt and these four words

Thy will be done

Thy will be done

Thy will be done

I know You’re good

But this don’t feel good right now

And I know You think

Of things I could never think about

It’s hard to count it all joy

Distracted by the noise

Just trying to make sense

Of all Your promises

Sometimes I gotta stop

Remember that You’re God

And I am not

So

Thy will be done

And I'll say the same.

Questions for God

Isaiah 1:18

"Come now, and let us reason together" says the Lord. 

Our Daily Bread's devotional for today shares the story of a little boy who tells his grandparents he wasn't surprised by their unannounced arrival "Because I know everything!"

We chuckle at the audacity of a little child making such a bold statement for two reasons: 1. We can probably think of a time when we thought the same way about ourselves, and 2. As we get older, life teaches us how much we still have to learn.

The task of parenting is one of those. A friend once remarked to me that, if she could have spent an additional hour and a half on the delivery table and popped out a manual for her child, she would have done it! The first-time parent often has moments where they question what to do, or if they did the right thing when faced with multiple options. Even more difficult are the questions we ask ourselves in later years, when we reflect back in times of sorrow or grief and ask, "Could I have done something more, or done something differently?" I have asked myself these questions many times in the last few weeks, as I reflect back over the events through the last several years that culminated in our son's death.

I've talked to God about it too. Some people may have come to this post thinking it was about questioning the existence of God. That is no longer a question for me. Don't get me wrong; I've been through times where I wondered if I'd bought in to a fable, where I had questioned whether God was real or not. Being a biologist by training and a teacher of mathematics by occupation, I need to see evidence, I need facts. Now that I'm over 50, there has been such a wealth of evidence in my life, not just for His existence, but for His very real presence, that I am done questioning it, like we're done questioning gravity.

But I still have questions for God. I ask Him, "Why?" And I believe He's okay with that. You see, I would actually like an answer, and I'll be listening for one, but I'm cognizant that I may not get one that I can understand.

I was reading the Bible, in the book of Acts, chapter 12, last November. In that chapter it records a noteworthy event; the miraculous release of Peter from prison. I've heard sermons on it, and even thought "I'd like something like that to happen to me!" Maybe you've done the same.

But last fall,  I noticed something I'd never noticed before; a brief statement in verse 2 that Herod had James "put to death with the sword". Yet, mere verses later, Peter's chains drop loose, prison doors are opened while the guards sleep, and Peter finds himself outside the prison, and he walks to where the other disciples are gathered.

Why did God allow James to be executed, but Peter to be miraculously released? Didn't the disciples pray just as hard for James' release? What about James' family?Wouldn't two miraculous releases bring even more glory to God?

Last Sunday, we celebrated the fact that one of our young men, who has struggled with addiction, was heading off to a program that would support him in breaking free from addiction, while developing and strengthening his relationship with Jesus Christ. There was such joy all around ... but it was mixed with pain in my heart as I asked God, "Why could this not have been part of David's story as well, God? Why couldn't we be rejoicing over his future recovery, instead of weeping over his grave?"

I had asked God similar questions last November when reading Acts 12. "Why are my friends' children, who grew up in the same church, going on for You, God, while my David is running from You? Why must I agonize over his choices, instead of being able to rejoice over them?"

I may not ever get answers to these questions that I will understand or be satisfied with. But here's one thing I also had to ask myself: Do I trust God that He was still at work, that He's still a loving God? That He loved my David, and my Kate, enough that He would sentence His Son to die in their place and, for that reason, isn't done yet? Do I?

God, in His mercy to David and to us, gave David a block of time last fall where he was clean and sober and stable on medication. In that time frame, David acknowledged the mess he was making of things, his desire to change, and his need of Jesus Christ to forgive him for all the mess he'd created by his choices. God said, in His Word, that "if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you shall be saved." (Romans 10:9) I believe I will see my son again, despite his failings and mine, because God did the work of redeeming us both.

No question.

A Solid Foundation

When the bottom drops out of your world, what's holding you up?

I wrote in an earlier post that "there is something about looking at your own son in a casket that makes you assess whether you truly believe that God is as good as He claims to be."  It's when your very foundations are shaken that you truly discover whether your life is founded on something solid or not.

Maybe it's the fact that I'm getting older, or maybe it's the starkness of recent events, but in the last few weeks, I have found myself to be more pensive, more contemplative.  Thinking back over the week after David died, I recall my cousin's husband asking how we were holding up.  That had been a very hard day; we had been choosing a grave site for our son and for ourselves.  Brings you face to face with your mortality, let me tell you! I remember saying, "Of all the things a dad longs to do for his child, choosing a casket and a burial plot are not on that list." And I look back and ask, "What kept us going that week? How were we able to keep putting one foot in front of the other and do what we needed to do?" As we took care of things needing to be addressed, we had several people in the "business" tell us, "You're doing very well, considering ..." So why?

We all tend to live under the illusion that we have some control over our lives.  Poet William Ernest Henley wrote, in his poem "Invictus", "I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul." Are we? Are we really?

It's when tragic and overwhelming events occur, such as the death of a child or spouse, or a betrayal and divorce, or the confirmation of a life-altering or life-threatening disease, or some other foundation-shaking situation, that we realize we are NOT in control; we have little, if anything, to say regarding the circumstances of our lives. 

In times like these, religion isn't going to get you through, not with calm assurance.  It's just not enough, because it's not what we were designed for.  Here's what I mean. 

Timothy Keller writes:

How Religion works: If I obey and please God, then He will accept and love me.

So when someone says to me, "Good thing you have your religion/your faith to see you through." my concern is that they are thinking, "Mike and Judy, they're good people and they have faith in God. Their faith will give them the strength to see them through."  Inadvertently, there's a thought that the source of the strength is me, is my faith, is my belief.  Please, let me assure you, that's incorrect; I am not a good person; I fully agree with the Bible (Jeremiah 17:9) that my "heart is deceitful, above all else, and desperately wicked".  And my adherence to a set of rules or traditions, or my membership in an institution, no matter how devoted, will leave me wondering, when my world is rocked, "What was it all for?"

Timothy Keller goes on to remind us that the message of the Bible is that God is already loving us while we are waving are fists in His face and saying "NO!"  It was out of His love for us that He created us in the first place.  He desired to have a relationship with us.   He created the first man, had him recognize his need of a partner and created a woman for him, and then spent regular time with the two of them in relationship.  How do we know that?  When they had rebelled against Him and eaten the fruit from the one tree out of thousands He had instructed them not to eat of, it says that "they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden ... and the man and his wife hid themselves..." (Gen. 3:8)  How did they recognize the sound of God walking in the garden, unless that was what He did on a regular basis and it was familiar to them? He's not a God of religion; in fact, time and again in the Old Testament, He tells the nation of Israel things like "...this people ... honour Me with their lips, but have removed their hearts far from Me, and their fear toward Me is tradition by the precept of men..."  Does God desire the "tradition"? Or does He desire a willing heart?

In Acts 19:11-20, some men who were the "sons of Sceva" were trying to do what Paul had been doing, in terms of healing people and freeing them from demonic spirits.  They tried to use Paul's words, "In the name of Christ whom Paul preaches ..." to invoke the power, as if it was about using some kind of algorithm to manipulate God into doing what they wanted.  It went very badly for them! I guess that's what I think of when I hear the term "religious".  When I was "religious", I treated God somewhat like a lucky rabbit's foot.  I'll "do church", live clean, behave morally, and thereby God will be obliged to do what I want of Him.  It was all a facade, a thin veneer.  Underneath it all was a heart that was very broken and rebellious!  God had to teach me that He wanted my heart; He desired my obedience and devotion as a result of seeing His overwhelming love for me, a love willing to go to the extent that He did not even withhold the Son He loved, but sent Him to die to make it possible for me to be forgiven and to be in relationship with Him.

Knowing how much I am loved by the God of the universe is the only thing that is constant and certain when all around me seems to be crumbling.  At David's funeral, we sang an old children's hymn, that I had learned when I was a little boy and that I would often sing to both my kids when they were little and lying in bed, getting ready to go to sleep.

I am so glad that our Father in heaven

Tells of His love in the Book He has given.

Wonderful things in the Bible I see

This is the dearest, that Jesus loves me!

Though I forget Him and wander away

Still He does love me wherever I stray

Back to His dear loving arms would I flee

When I remember that Jesus loves me!

Oh, if there's only one song I can sing

When in His beauty I see the Great King

This shall my song in eternity be:

"Oh, what a wonder that Jesus loves me!"

Chorus:  I am so glad that Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me!

I am so glad that Jesus loves me, Jesus loves even me!

Paul, in writing to the Corinthians, says (I Cor. 13:13) "And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."