God Is Not My Cat

I once heard that our deepest fear and greatest need can be summed up in one thing: to be fully known and loved for it. But for some of us (like me) this comes with a list of requirements. And this poses a lot of fundamental problems with my love need.

Don't just give me love. My cat has taught me this one. I love cats and until yesterday, I didn't realize why. Don't get me wrong, dogs are great. In fact anything furry has my heart. But cats man, cats rock. And this is why: they don't just love you; you earn it. And that's how I think love should work. You don't just love people. They earn it from you. You don't just get love from people. You win them over. You make them fall for you. Sounds pretty messed up, right?

But this is the basic definition of playing hard to get. Admit it, you've done it. We all do it. In fact, we're TOLD to do it. Girls, you know you've heard it a million times: guys like a challenge. But I'd take that a step further, we all like a challenge. We all like to think we're loved because we're good enough. We've done something right, we are the right person, we say the right things, we look the right way...thus we're loved. 

That's not what Jesus says. Romans 5:8 makes it abundantly clear, He came for us "while we were still sinners". That's like a guy falling for the you that just woke up, with nasty breath, puffy eyes, a terrible attitude and something evil growing on top of your head. Just ain't right, is it? But that's His love. Jesus isn't my cat; and it frustrates me to no end.

There are one of two ways to go with this kind of love that are both vastly wrong: 1) I didn't earn this love therefore I can't accept it; or 2) I can do whatever I want and still be loved. I fall in category 1. If I have a love that I have worked for, earned, or for all intensive purposes deserved, I must be a pretty decent, fairly acceptable human being. And oh how I'd love to think that. Accepting the love of Christ offered me means I have to admit I'm not good enough. Lord help us all. But it's not as scary as it seems. No, I'm not good enough. But God doesn't care. There's something painfully terrifying and hauntingly beautiful in this. And instead of me desperately working to earn a love that won't even satisfy, I'm instead pursued by a relentless God who knows me better than anyone ever could. 

How do I respond? Here's the kicker: I run. I take love for granted. I label it as suffocating and high tail it to the next thing I can earn. In a culture where something truly "free" is rarely offered, I turn down the best offer ever given me in the name of having a love I have worked for and won for myself. It's exhausting, and yields maybe a few short-lived highs.

The problem? I have missed the fundamental nature of love in an of itself. Love isn't a thing to be won, earned or achieved. It is a thing to be mutually shared. By everyone, with everyone. As modeled by a perfectly loving Saviour.