mama3girls-phnig

Love begins in Christ.

Before we ever moved toward Him, He moved toward us.

He crossed the distance.
He entered our sorrow.
He carried our burdens.
He gave Himself away.

Throughout Scripture, one truth appears again and again:

Love moves toward the beloved.

Sometimes it notices.
Sometimes it remembers.
Sometimes it prays.
Sometimes it serves.
Sometimes it stays.
Sometimes it sacrifices.

The cross is the clearest picture of this love.

Christ first moved toward us, and now His love calls that same movement out of us.

Just a little while ago, I was upset.

People keep planning things on the day of my surgery. Parties at my house. Gatherings I keep having to remind people I won’t be able to attend because I’ll either be recovering or literally under anesthesia.

I felt confused. Saddened. A little emotionally isolated.

How could people who love me forget something that feels so significant to me?

But this is the deal: not one of us loves perfectly.

Not them.

And certainly not me.

I was able to voice my confusion and hurt to a husband who listened with kindness. And as I sat with my feelings, I found myself asking God to forgive me for the very human ways I fail to see the love that is already surrounding me.

Because if I’m honest, there have been countless moments when people have moved toward me and I barely noticed.

A husband who listens.

Friends who care.

Family who checks in.

People who may not remember every detail, but who still love me imperfectly, just as I love imperfectly in return.

Love is not always flawless attention.

Sometimes love forgets dates.

Sometimes love misses details.

Sometimes love stumbles.

And yet it keeps moving toward the beloved.

This morning, after another rough night with very little sleep as I prepare for surgery to correct years of severe nasal obstruction, I struggled to get out of bed. Breathing felt difficult. Everything felt slow.

My husband walked in carrying a cup of coffee.

The mug said:

“You’re my favorite.”

He smiled.

“Want me to make you breakfast?”

And in that moment, I was reminded again how prayer and presence really does soften a repentant heart

“Thank you, honey. This makes me feel very loved.”

Love moves.

Sometimes it crosses heaven to rescue the world.

Sometimes it crosses a kitchen carrying coffee.

While I don’t find repentance to be a heavy burden to judge myself or others, Christ always shows up on a cross with a smile. I did this for you. Sometimes “Wild Horses” by the Stones plays in the background of my mind.

And then love remembers—

I smile too. 

“Thank you, Jesus. I love you.”

The scale may change when I look at my savior.

But movement does not.

Love moves toward the beloved.

Amen and amen