When I say I love Jesus, it’s not a Sunday school cliche. I’m not repeating a catchphrase I saw on a bumper sticker, or mindlessly muttering words that carry no meaning.
When I say I love Jesus, I’m not attempting to earn credibility. I’m not trying to impress everyone with some proximal goodness based on my supposed affections toward Him.
When I say I love Jesus, I’m not seeking affirmation. I don’t speak these words to be accepted by other Jesus lovers.
I mean what I say.
I say I love Him.
When I breathe His name, my heart quickens. I feel a surge in my soul, and a desperation to know Him better.
When I hear His voice, peace sweeps over me like a gentle breeze. It soothes my anxious thoughts.
When I think of Him, I’m reminded of who He is.
He is the one who saw me when I was invisible. He is the one who loved me enough to meet me in the darkness and wait with me until I was ready to walk out of it. He is the one who knew all of my mistakes and chose to pay for them anyway so that I wouldn’t have to. He is the one that stood in my place before God my father and absorbed all the wrath that was intended for me.
He is my protector and my healer. He is my comfort and my source of strength. He is the reason I get up in the morning and find motivation to face another day. He is the ONLY reason for my existence.
I love Him.
I mean it.
He’s my everything.