or more aptly titled: my struggle to follow Jesus

I was looking at pictures of my kids (all four of them), and noticed something funny.

I couldn’t stop grinning. I love them. I love everything about them.

Their smiles are absolutely intoxicating. Their giggles provide such endless joy. I’m not sure I can adequately describe to anyone (let alone someone who has no children yet) what wells up inside me when I look at them.

Watching them learn and grow and become “big people” is my greatest source of joy.

Sure, there are those moments when they irk me (generally my fault, rarely theirs). There are times when they disobey, or cause undue pain to each other. There are times when I really just want them to stop crying.

But it always comes back to this ridiculous, overwhelming sense of joy, spurred on by love.

Oh, now I get it…

This is how God feels about me.

There is absolutely nothing my children could do to remove my love from them. They can’t stop it. They can’t cut it off.

Riley, Lincoln, Cole, Jude: If you ever doubt my love for you, that is my fault not yours. Know that there is nothing that exists in this world that could make me stop loving you guys. (I know you can’t read yet, but someday you will…)

And this is how God feels about me. Only way better, and way more. (Which frankly I’m not certain how possible that is, but I know it is.)

I never really had a grasp on that until recently. I didn’t know how God could continue to love someone like me. I consistently do things contrary to His will. I know how I should treat other people, I know what I should do, but I ignore.

I happen upon/find ways to hurt him over and over (both consciously and subconsciously). I know what is right, but I still choose the wrong so often.

But he still loves, still pursues, and still reaches out his hand to help me up again.

And now I know why.