Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

Reading back over the words he’d just written, he had to admit the untrained ear would hear them as arrogant. Pretentious. Grandiose. They weren’t intended as such. Not at all. He simply couldn’t find words to properly express the truth that filled his heart every single day. Jesus loved him. Him! John. For no reason, he could think of. There was nothing special to recommend him. He had no fantastic gifts or amazing talents. No one spoke his name in reverent tones. He wasn’t renowned for his financial acumen. He was just a fisherman. His family wasn’t prominent. His pedigree wasn’t extensive. He wasn’t holding his breath to be tapped as the next synagogue leader. He was just plain, ordinary, nondescript John. The disciple Jesus loved. (Mark 1:19-20)

John lived in that space. Inhabited every inch of it. Steadfastly held in the unfailing love of Jesus, he daily rested in the complete, irrevocable awareness that he was loved by God. Personally. Not because he was amazing. Not because he worked really hard. Not because he was perfect. He wasn’t. He knew that. John was more aware of his imperfections than anyone. But he was also aware that Jesus loved him with a love that could never be tempered by the faults and failures, the flaws and fickleness. It was consistent, relentless love. Steadfast love in a wildly capricious society. (John 13:23: 19:26: 20:2: 21:7,20)

Resting securely in Jesus’ love didn’t erase John’s humanity. He still wanted the same things everyone wants. Food. Shelter. Money. Friends. Sometimes he wanted something more as well. Fame. Notoriety. Prestige. Peter wasn’t the only one pulling shenanigans. Flanked by James, John tried some hijinks as well. Approaching Jesus as a team, James and John requested a peek at the seating chart for Heaven. Who was seated where had become of utmost importance to them. They wanted good seats. The best seats. Prestigious, preferential spots. Places on Jesus’ right and left. Their minds had clearly already pictured the elaborate golden placards reserving their tufted, cushioned chairs. Their names emblazoned there for all eternity. Maybe they would say “James” and “John.” Maybe they would read “Sons of Thunder.” It didn’t really matter so long as they were seated in those specific spots. Them. Only them. No matter that there were other deserving men in their group. James and John arrogantly rocketed themselves to the top of the list and went to Jesus to ensure their request would be granted. We read the account and shake our heads at their arrogant selfishness. Jesus listened and loved them. Yet Jesus loved them still. Because Jesus loves people. All people. No matter what. (Mark 10:35-40)

There is nothing you can do to stop Jesus from loving you. Nothing can separate you from His love. Nothing. Not your sins and shortcomings. Not your doubts and fears. Not your wanderings and wildness. Jesus loves you the exact same way He loved John. There is no preferential treatment. You are the person Jesus loves. Relentlessly. Steadfastly. When you rebuff Him. When you accept Him. Jesus loves you the same way He loved those in every account throughout the Bible. His compassion is endless. He generously pours out His love on all humanity. Then and now. To those who believe. To those who don’t. To those who try to have it both ways, and end up choosing their status and wealth and earthly ambitions over Jesus. People like the young man who came rushing up, asking what he could do to obtain eternal life. 

Reciting the law to him, Jesus awaited his answer. Jesus knew he’d done all those things. He knew what the answer would be. He also knew what the answer to the second part of His directive would be. Jesus knew the young man would choose his possessions and prestige over eternal life. He knew His generous offer would be declined. Yet, knowing all that, knowing His words and love and kindness would all be wasted, in the pause before He made the offer, Jesus looked on that man and loved him. Deeply. Knowing he was already turned toward the exit. Knowing he would deem eternal life less important. Knowing the huge sacrifice the man would choose to make. Feeling the loss. Aching with the rejection. Hating the knowledge of what was to come. Jesus still looked at him and loved him. A sinner never to become a saint. Jesus knew, and loved him still. (Mark 10:17-22)

There’s something overwhelming for me in that. Perhaps because I’ve been there. Made poor choices. Gone the wrong direction. Focused more on the plumbline of man than the measuring stick of God. Having heard so much of His anger and rage, I cowered before Him, desperately wishing He would love me, yet never believing I was good enough that He could. I could never find myself in the same space as John, the comfortable place of knowing I was truly loved by God. Eventually, I picked up my Bible and read it. Allowed it to speak the lessons to me personally. Learned God for myself. Found out that He wasn’t actually waiting around corners gleefully hoping to see a misstep so He could brutally punish me. Understood that He loves me too much to let me stay in my sin, but His corrections are gentle and kind rather than hateful and raging. And I finally found that place. The place John rested. The place of knowing that I am the disciple Jesus loves. So are you. 

You are the person Jesus loves. Yes, you. Jesus loves you. Imperfect. Impudent. Imprudent you. The you that’s hidden beneath all the layers of superficial kindness and caring. The true self you can barely stand to uncover and behold. Yes. That you. Jesus loves that you. He loves all of you. Faithful follower. Finicky fruit inspector. Fastidious poser. John was that guy, yet Jesus loved him. I am often that girl, yet Jesus loves me. You are that person, yet Jesus loves you. Because no matter who you are, where you’ve been, what you’ve done or left undone. You are still that person. You are still the one Jesus loves. And He loves you too much to stand idly by while you die in your sins. (Isaiah 54:10; Lamentations 3:22-24; Jeremiah 31:3; Ezekiel 33:11)

Dear friend, you are the reason He came. His love for you is so strong it compelled Him to leave Heaven for earth, die a brutal death on a rough wooden cross, be buried and resurrected, so you could have the gift of eternal life. You don’t have to accept it. It’s completely up to you. Like the wealthy young man above, you can choose to chase worldly approval and sacrifice your eternity. Jesus will still love you. When you break His heart. When you shortchange yourself. When you sell out for so much less than you are worth. You will still be the one Jesus loves. And, someday, when you change your mind, heed His call, choose to come back, lay your sins, your burdens, your fears at His cross and follow Him, He will welcome you back. Today. Tomorrow. Ten years from now. He will love you still. You are the one Jesus loves. (John 15:13; Romans 5:8; II Peter 3:9; John 3:16; I John 4:10; Luke 15:11-24)