Sacrifice always comes at a price. I feel foolish pointing that out, but we live in a culture which doesn’t understand that truth. We say we want a relationship based on sacrificial love. What we don’t admit is, most of the time, what we really mean is we want a relationship where the other person sacrifices for us and we do nothing in return.
That’s slavery, by the way. Not intimacy.
I’ve had to think a lot about that concept lately. I’m doing life at a Christian college, which means we’ve just entered the season of “a marriage a day, that’s the summer way.” As friends get married, my prayer life for them changes drastically. So does the way I view my own relationship with Jesus.
**Disclaimer: This is not another sappy post about letting Jesus love me instead of a man. Keep reading.
Here’s the thing. I can’t sit still. If I’m in a meeting, my fingers are fiddling with a pen. If I have a lazy day planned, that also includes my journal so I can
work journal. I determine the healthiness of almost all my relationships based on how much I have done for them. This includes Jesus.
It’s easier that way, you see. I have some semblance of control. When I think something is going wrong, I trace back to the last time I did something for them. If I can report the action as well received, I breathe a sigh of relief. If I can’t guarantee the person walked away happy, I panic and reek havoc on all things peaceful until I can correct my mistake.
When it comes to Jesus, I get really, really, uncomfortable when He does something “randomly small” for me. On the days when I have enough time for that extra cup of coffee, or the extra time to enjoy the lake before my day begins… I kick it into high gear. It’s almost as if I’m trying to be extra spiritual for the next two hours so I can justify His gifts.
It’s exhausting. I’m trying to measure a love that is immeasurable and trying to prove my imperfections do not exist. It ain’t gonna happen.
What if? What if we sacrificed out of love, not out of selfish hopes of future gratification? What if we were so confident in our identities as “Beloved of the Lord” that being cherished was enjoyable rather than skeptically analyzed?
What if we heard the promise of Jesus’ love and believed Him? How much would our own signs of love change?