Does Jesus Really Love an Ant Like Me?

The strongest love turns to irritation when a towel is left on the floor. All love I know is conditioned. I can understand that others love me, as long as I leave the towel on the floor less than they do.  

But how can God love me? He’s perfect, and I hurt him daily.

When I’m a jerk, I’m amazed my husband still loves me. But he hurts me too. The hurt with God is always one-sided. I always abuse. God always loves.

When I do nothing to deserve it, I’m flattered if my boss notices me. God’s notice is so much grander and so much less earned. Yet he knows and loves me?

“Jesus help me understand.”

Warm sunshine. The hand of God reaches down to touch an ant. The love is thicker than Pennsylvania humidity. There’s no disgust. He’s smiling at every joint he made, every habit he knows. He delights in me.

His love undresses me. Bashful and undeserving, it hurts to be loved so much, but it’s even more amazing. The weight of the love makes me cry. To see every wart yet look me in the eye,

“I made you beautiful.”

Like a sobbing, confessing child receiving a parent’s hug, I want nothing more than to please this love. Nothing more than to be like it.

Even I wouldn’t notice an ant. I barely notice the homeless. I dismiss the rude. But all love is from God and to God. It has nothing to do with the loved, or he’d never love me.

I’m so much smaller than an ant compared to God. But he made me. His love gives me value like a child’s love gives value to his tattered blanket.

No matter how dirty or worn, God will never throw the blanket away. He adores his creation, and I cannot break his loyalty. The beauty of God’s love blinds my self-disgust.

Joy so strong I cry and smile. My heart’s in heaven, and I just wonder. Wonder at this love my mind has never felt before. Amazed that such love exists. I long to worship more than I long to sleep at midnight.

“I want to see more love, Jesus, for me and for others.”


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