I woke up this morning with this thought, “God loves me so much.”
I was loath to admit it. My life is currently in shambles. As messy and disorganised as the house I currently live in. My heart is shattered. I cry every day, sometimes relentlessly.
But God’s love is immutable. Unquestionable. Overarching. And it extends to me in my brokenness.
These days however, that knowledge is head canon; standard fodder for this struggling Christian who’s merely trying to do her best.
It rarely stretches to my heart. These days. These wretched, cursed days.
This morning though, it’s the very first thought I had upon waking. God loves me so much.
Not, “God still loves me so much.” Not, “God loves me so much regardless.”
Just that simple, solid, reassuring, unassuming thought. God loves me so much.
I followed this thread in my head, letting my mind wander to where it could lead. And I had these disconnected reflections:
He is in my body, protecting me and keeping me healthy despite everything I am doing to seek out sickness.
He is in the friends and family who love me, and pray for me, and reach out to me even though I am silent and morose.
He is in the little mercies, the gentle comforts, the glimpses of joy that I still experience every day.
God loves me so much, and He will never stop.
I may have great difficulty feeling it these days, but my failure to connect does not have any bearing on the strength, reality, and tangibility of this love.
God loves me so much.
Rinse and repeat.
