Earlier this week I wrote a LONG post about the place of the Mosaic Law in the life of the Christian. It was over 6000 words. Yikes! Here is something a little more light-hearted, but still on the same topic.
Letter of the Law vs. the Spirit of the Law
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God loves you? No … God LIKES You
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Recently I wrote a post on the All About Eve blog that the theological invitation “Believe in Jesus for eternal life” is more concretely summed up with the statement “God loves you.”
I wrote that many people have trouble understanding what it means to believe in Jesus for eternal life. And while this invitation is referred to over and over in the Gospel of John (e.g., John 3:16; 5:24; 6:47), this offer of eternal life is often equated with the fact and foundation of God’s love for humanity.
So I believe that if we really understand God’s love for us, we will have also understood that He gives us eternal life freely through Jesus Christ.
Therefore, when someone says, “I don’t know if I have believed enough, or believed the right thing,” one way to help people sort through this is to ask if they know that God loves them.
And I mean REALLY loves them. No conditions. No limits. No ifs, ands, or buts.
This sort of understanding of God’s love is so radical, it revolutionizes everything we think about God, Scripture, ourselves, and the church.
Understanding that God loves you infinitely and completely no matter what you have done in the past or what you do in the future, whether you change or not, this is equivalent to understanding that God gives you eternal life freely by His grace.
This sort of teaching about love is what grants people freedom from sin, freedom from religion, and freedom from fear.
I have previously written about this on numerous posts in numerous ways.
But here’s the thing that I have come to realize in the last couple of days:
The church has bastardized the biblical concept of love.
I doubt you could find a church in the world which does not preach the message that “God loves you.” But so few churches and Christians actually understand it or believe it.
Yet rather than try to fight this misunderstanding about love, I think might be best to start saying something else instead.
Rather than saying “God loves you” to people, maybe we should start saying “God likes you.”
Yes, yes, I know. “Like” is a much weaker word than “love.” But there are countless millions of people who would agree in a second that God loves them, but who do not for a second believe that God likes them.
To understand what I’m talking about, let’s back up a bit. In Christian circles, it is not uncommon to hear someone say this: “I love my neighbor … but I don’t like them.” Or maybe instead of your neighbor, you have said this about an in-law, the church gossip, or a rude deacon.
When we say we love someone but don’t like them, we mean this: “I love them (because I know I am supposed to), but I don’t want to hang out with them or be their friend.”
This sort of idea is often preached in our pulpits as well. Again, you will sometimes hear pastors say this: “As Christians, we are supposed to love everybody, just as God loves us. But even though you love them, you don’t have to like everything about them. Remember, we love the sinner and hate the sin!”
Do you see? We have this attitude toward others because we think this is God’s attitude toward us. We think God loves us, but doesn’t really like us. At least, He doesn’t like us the way we are now. He likes some future version of us where we have cleaned up our lives, gotten rid of sin, read our Bibles and pray more faithfully, and witnesses regularly to our friends and neighbors. That future “fixed” person is the one God wants to be friends with and hang out with; not the “broken” and sinful person we are now.
So you see? Though we believe God loves us, we don’t really think He likes us.
But here is the Gospel truth as revealed in Jesus Christ: GOD LIKES YOU!
Let me bring this down to earth a little bit more.
Think of a famous author, actor, or musician you would love to be friends with.
For me, I think of people like N. T. Wright, Brad Paisley, and Keanu Reeves. I think it would be awesome to be best friends with these guys. You know … to have such a good friendship that it became informal … that they just drop by my house to see what’s going on, and I could do the same for them. It would be assumed that we watch football together on Monday nights. That when we went camping, we would invite the other along. That if we just wanted to chat about life and theology, we would call up the other person first.
Do you have someone in mind who is like that? Someone you would love to get to know, hang out with, and have “inside jokes” with?
Usually, when we think about God, we tend to put God in the place of these famous people we want to know. We think, “It would be so cool if God and I were on a first-name basis. If I could call God any time I wanted. If we could hang out like best friends.”
But here is the actual truth: When God thinks about you, He thinks about you the way you think about the famous people you want to know. The way I think about being friends with N. T. Wright, Brad Paisley, and Keanu Reeves, that is how God thinks about me.
God likes me so much, He dreams about being on a first-name basis with me! He dreams about hanging out with me to watch a football game. He dreams about just showing up at my house with no other purpose than to say, “What’s happening?”
And this is the same way God feels about you.
More than anything else, He wants to hang out with you. He wants to be your friend. You are the famous person He would “name drop” to all the angels when He talks about what He did over the weekend. More than anything, God wants to be on a first-name basis with you. He wants to be the one you think of calling when things are going great, and the one you call when things are going bad.
God likes you so much, He wants to even hang out with you when you are weeding your garden, filling your car with gas, and running errands to Sears.
And best of all, God likes you just as you are. He doesn’t want to be friends with some “better and improved” version of you. He wants to be friends with you … as you are right now.
God likes YOU.
This is the truth about God that many people do not believe and cannot accept. They cannot believe that the God of the universe is so madly in love with them, so infatuated with them, so in awe of who they are and what they like and the sorts of things they do, that He would “like” every single one of your Facebook posts, would “Favorite” every single Tweet, and would “Repin” every single picture on Pinterest.
God is your biggest fan, and He dreams of just being in your presence.
God likes you.
This is the Gospel message. This is what Jesus came to reveal.
Do you believe this?
Thank You, Mothers!
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Someone is Wrong on Facebook
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To be clear … I AM MAKING FUN OF MYSELF HERE. The following comic strip is ME from last Sunday night.
Hat tip goes to Richard Jacobson. Check out his blog and follow him on Twitter.
On Sundays, I sometimes like to post a light-hearted little comic strip that I found humorous. Last week I posted a comic strip I thought was both light-hearted and insightful. Some people thought it was neither …
In my opinion, people completely misunderstood what I had posted and why. But whatever. Such is life on the internet, where everybody is wrong except me…
Killing Me Softly with your Jesus Songs
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The following is the first post in a new series by Sam Riviera called “Letters to Dad.” You don’t want to miss these …
Dad,
I remember you singing Jesus loves the little children. All the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, all are precious in his sight.
I loved that song when I was little. I loved hearing you sing it. I felt secure. Jesus loved me and my dad was there to take care of me.
You sang as if you knew him and knew all about him. He would take care of me. I was precious to him and to you.
You gave me a brand new red Schwinn bicycle for my eighth birthday. I had admired that off-brand bicycle in the window of the Western Auto store. But when you came home from work on that hot summer day when I turned eight you unloaded a new Schwinn bicycle from the car and said it was mine. I knew you loved me. I heard you tell your friend that I was your pride and joy.
Every day with Jesus is sweeter than the day before. Every day with Jesus I love him more and more. I remember you singing that song clear and strong. You sang it all the time.
On my sixteenth birthday mom baked my favorite cake. German chocolate. After she finished the frosting, she pounded the pork tenderloins big and flat, dipped them in eggs and cracker crumbs, just the way I like them. When you walked in the door they were sizzling in the frying pan.
“Why don’t you have any girl friends?” you asked me.
“Some of my friends are girls,” I said.
“Why don’t you have a girl friend?”
“Why do I need a girl friend?”
“I’ve been told that friend of yours is a faggot.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You were seen kissing a boy.”
“Who?”
“That kid you hang out with all the time. They say he’s a faggot. Are you a faggot?”
“He’s my friend.”
“He’s a faggot. Now I find out you’re a faggot too. You’re no son of mine.”
My birthday cake was sitting in the middle of the table. The tenderloin that mom was cooking for my birthday dinner was frying in the pan.
You grabbed my arm and walked me to the door and said “Get out. You don’t live here any more. Get out of this house and get out of this town or you’ll regret it. Don’t ever try to come back.”
Mom was crying. You wouldn’t even let me go to my room and get some clothes or my wallet.
Last night I dreamed about you. You were strumming your guitar and singing. Strumming my pain with your fingers. Telling my life with your words. Telling your shame at who I am. Embarrassing me in front of everyone I ever knew. Killing me softly with your song.
You sang as if you knew me in all my dark despair. Then you looked right through me as if I was not there. You just kept on singing clear and strong. I was dying. You were killing me, killing me with your song.
Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so. You told me Jesus loves me when I was a kid. You sang that song to me. Sang it clear and strong. Now you think Jesus hates me. You’re ashamed that I am your son.
You threw me out on my sixteenth birthday. All I had were the clothes on my back. I walked to the edge of town and hitched a ride.
“Where ya’ going?” the guy asked when he pulled over.
“How far are you going?” I asked.
“Cross country.”
“I’m going as far as you’re willing to take me.”
“Traveling light, aren’t ya?”
“This is all I’ve got. I lost everything else.”
You’ll be happy to know I’m nowhere near you any more. You won’t have to be ashamed of me. You can tell people I ran off. Of course we know that’s not true. You ran me off. Ran me off to hide your shame.
You never really believed the words of those songs, did you? You like your guitar and the music, right? Grandma took you to church and you learned those songs. But you never believed that Jesus loves me. I was precious only if I was what you wanted me to be. You loved me only if I was what you wanted.
My ride dropped me off in a big city a long way away from you. I slept in a park the first night. The next day a guy asked where I was from. I told him my story. He offered to let me stay with him.
That night he gave me something that he said would make me feel better. When I was feeling no pain he raped me. Just so you know.
He threw me out of his apartment the next day. I wandered the streets and found some other guys about my age. They said they would hook me up with some good stuff. The good stuff comes with a price.
Jesus paid it all. All to him I owe. You just kept on singing that song, singing clear and strong.
I live in a tent. I owe everything to my supplier. He comes by every night. I don’t have any money. That’s not how I pay. After he takes his turn, he has several other guys lined up for me. He says he has to cover his costs and make a little profit. He says he used to get more for boys than girls, but now the price is about the same.
After I’ve paid, I get what I need, just enough to last me until tomorrow. Then I have to pay again to get more.
“I don’t give you enough ice to get you so high you’ll slit anyone’s throat when you’re tweaking,” he says. “That would be bad for business.”
I’m lucky. He gives me good stuff. There’s lots of fake stuff out there now. They make it out of insecticide. One trip on that and you’re permanently ruined. I guess that would be bad for business and that’s why I get the good stuff.
Sing the wondrous love of Jesus. Sing his mercy and his love.
In my dream last night you sang to me. Sang as if you knew me. But you looked right through me as if I was not there. But you just kept on singing clear and strong. Singing to yourself I guess. Singing to convince yourself that Jesus loves you and hates me.
I doubt you ever loved me. You loved a fantasy you had created in your mind.
Keep on singing dad. Keep on killing me softly with your Jesus songs. Keep on pretending, dad.
I never had sex with anyone until the night that guy raped me. I was there because I needed a place to stay. You threw me out. Remember? Just so you know.
Jason
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