That’s How Much I Love You
Untethered by time, [God] sees us all. From the backwoods of Virginia to the business district of London; from the Vikings to the astronauts, from the cave-dwellers to the kings, from the hut-builders to the finger-pointers to the rock-stackers, he sees us. Vagabonds and ragamuffins all, he saw us before we were born.
And he loves what he sees. Flooded by emotion. Overcome by pride, the Starmaker turns to us, one by one, and says, “You are my child. I love you dearly. I’m aware that someday you’ll turn from me and walk away. But I want you to know, I’ve already provided you a way back.”
And to prove it, he did something extraordinary.
Stepping from the throne, he removed his robe of light and wrapped himself in skin: pigmented, human skin. The light of the universe entered a dark, wet womb. He who angels worship nestled himself in the placenta of a peasant, was birthed into the cold night, and then slept on cow’s hay.
Mary didn’t know whether to give him milk or give him praise, but she gave him both since he was, as near as she could figure, hungry and holy.
Joseph didn’t know whether to call him Junior or Father. But in the end called him Jesus, since that’s what the angel said and since he didn’t have the faintest idea what to name a God he could cradle in his arms.
Neither Mary nor Joseph said it as bluntly as my Sara, but don’t you think their heads tilted and their minds wondered, “What in the world are you doing, God?” Or, better phrased, “God, what are you doing in the world?”
“Can anything make me stop loving you?” God asks. “Watch me speak your language, sleep on your earth, and feel your hurts. Behold the maker of sight and sound as he sneezes, coughs, and blows his nose. You wonder if I understand how you feel? Look into the dancing eyes of the kid in Nazareth; that’s God walking to school. Ponder the toddler at Mary’s table; that’s God spilling his milk.
“You wonder how long my love will last? Find your answer on a splintered cross, on a craggy hill. That’s me you see up there, your maker, your God, nail-stabbed and bleeding. Covered in spit and sin-soaked. That’s your sin I’m feeling. That’s your death I’m dying. That’s your resurrection I’m living. That’s how much I love you.”
From In the Grip of Grace
Copyright 1996, Max Lucado
That was awesome and much needed after the day I had yesterday. It is hard to fathom being loved that much.
After reading this scripture i realize that no matter how much god loves me i will never be able to measure his love cause it is beyond my understanding. I wish more people would turn to god cause he is always there for us no matter what.
Yes, our God is an awesome God. Sometimes I feel I do not deserve his love that he so painfully yet so lovingly gave without measure. I pray that every person on earth would realize this love. It is just incredible!
after reading the devotion all i want to do is crawl to a corner and just worship and adore him!
i feel that God love is so great and that poeple can open there eyes to see what he has plan for us.
I get caught up in my worries and needs in life, yet the whole time the most wonderful, unstopable and awesome love has been freely available to me. For too long have I depended on the love of other people to bring me happiness. This is too much to ask of humans, they are human and will inevitably fail you at times. God’s love will always endure, will always be there and will never fail.
My name is Alex and I truly enjoyed That’s How Much I Love You. I have never heard that put into words like that, God bless you.
My whole being was flooded with emotion. I cannot look at our universe with all its beauty and complicated structures, without praising God for the magnificent order and fullness of life I feel. Our God is a wonderful God whose love just keeps on giving. I thank him with all my heart for his finding a way for all of us to be saved. Thank you, Lord God.
I’m a young mom myself right now–I get to cradle my baby each day. This devotion not only made me think about how Mary and Joseph must have felt, but also realize (yet again) just how precious my little one is–to me and to God. I’m not holding God in my arms, but I’m holding a child of God.