Because he first loved us…

I posted this blog a year ago on the day after Easter, but it came to mind again when I recently received an email from a sweet reader who said she kept coming back to it over and over again and wanted to know more about how to know Jesus. Which thrills my heart like nothing else. Being even a small conduit for the gospel is such a honor, and I absolutely love to hear from readers–both Christian and seekers alike. 

So, I thought I’d post this again, since it is once again the Monday after Easter.

Cool side note: the woman that I mention at the end of the original post is now my real-life friend and came to the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ in September of 2016 after messaging back and forth with me for months. I had the distinct privilege of talking her through a prayer of salvation over the phone. The Lord is not done with her (or any of us) yet, but it is amazing to see the changes for good that he has already made in her life. 

Again, if you have any questions about how to have a relationship with Jesus or just need someone to pray for you, please don’t hesitate to contact me.

We recently started attending a new church. By recently, I mean back in January. Since January, we’ve only gone half a dozen times or so–one of which was yesterday for Easter Sunday.

The reason for our poor church attendance record is twofold: 1) we’re in an unusually busy season of life right now (I’ll share more about that soon), and Shaun has had to work every single weekend other than his birthday and Easter for the last 3 months and 2) it took me a while to work up the gumption to take six kids to church by myself. (We actually really enjoy “doing church” at home where we can listen to Ravi Zacharias’ sermons and dance to worship music).

When we finally did get our act together, the kids were the most excited about one thing: the prospect of being ferried to the front door on one of the golf carts that patrol the parking lot (it’s not a huge church, but the parking lot extends a ways from the building itself).

Sure enough, by the time we had all tumbled out of Nina the Nissan, there was a cart idling by our van, driven by a beaming older man with a crisp part in his silver hair and dressed in a sweater vest, sharply pleated trousers, and shiny loafers.

The kids clambered on, jabbering and giggling. But I was less enthused. I’m used to drawing stares everywhere we go, but while I don’t think much of it anymore, I don’t tend to choose ways to be more conspicuous. And a woman by herself arriving at the front door on her “chariot” with 6 little kids in tow seemed about as subtle as using a sledgehammer to crack a pecan.

But, like it or not, the next week, our chariot driver was waiting for us again, still smiling, still dressed to the nines, still graciously chatting with my children. He exuded an old-world gentlemanly Southern charm the likes of which I rarely encounter these days.

He told us his name is Chip, and he didn’t ask me where my husband was or if I “know what causes all these here kiddos” (nudge, nudge, wink, wink). Instead, he just told me in the most serious of tones what a good job I was doing as a mama and how precious he thought my kids were. He assured me that he would be on the lookout for us after church.

Y’all. I (a non-cryer) teared up right then and there on that golf cart and had to hide my face in Evy’s hair as she sat on my lap. That kind of unexpected kindness and respect just undid me for a moment.

True to his word, Chip zoomed up the second we exited the building after church that day and cheerfully carted us to our van.

And just like that, one man’s being Christ to a mama and her six ducklings transformed a daunting experience (taking six kids to church by myself) into one to look forward to.

In fact, the next week, when the golf cart driver wasn’t Chip, we were all a little disappointed. Until, of course, the driver said, “You have six?” I nodded, unsure where this was going, but he just grinned and said, “Me too! You don’t see that too often. Good for you, Mama! You’re doing a great job!”

Even in Christian circles, such positive responses to a large family are rare. And much-appreciated. (People aren’t usually unkind. Just surprised or amused).

Then, yesterday, as all eight of us tramped our way to church together from the “you only got here 10 minutes early on Easter Sunday when you should have been here an hour ago” overflow parking, we saw Chip directing traffic. He spotted us too and called out: “Hey! There are my favorite kiddos!”

I smiled and waved and nudged my husband with a whispered, “That’s Chip.” (You better believe he had already heard these stories). But I didn’t think much of Chip’s “favorite kids” claim until we encountered yet another friendly greeter at the door, who introduced himself to us, surveyed our kids, and said, “Now, you must be the family that Chip loves so much!”

My mouth just about dropped open, y’all.

Chip wasn’t just being polite.

I delivered my kids to their Sunday school classes with the goofiest of grins and whispered admonitions to be extra kind to Mr. Chip on our way back to the car.

So, why the sudden need for story time?

Because it’s the Monday after Easter, and quite honestly, I think it’s a little too easy to come off of the “high” of all of that celebration–the joy of Jesus’ resurrection, the 3 day weekend, the candy buzz–and feel a little deflated.

Like, ho hum, it’s just another Monday. Nothing miraculous about this at all.

I can only imagine that’s not how the disciples felt the day after Jesus revealed himself to them.

Or maybe it was at first.

Maybe, when they awoke, their first thought was one of sadness: Jesus is dead. All of our hopes are crushed.

But then a slow, fuzzy realization began to dawn, gradually solidifying into one crystal clear, glorious thought: NO! He’s alive! He rose from the dead! This changes everything.

Or at least, it should. It should transform how we speak to our children and our husbands, how we respond to the person who cuts us off in traffic, how we treat the mama with her kids who rides on our golf cart. How, when, and with whom we share the gospel (good news!) of Jesus’ paying the penalty on the cross for our sins.

Because that’s ultimately what Chip and the other men who showed us kindness are demonstrating with their actions: that the death and resurrection of Jesus are wonderfully meaningful–not just on Easter weekend–but every other day of the year.

The knowledge of the debt we owe and the Savior who paid it should motivate us to surprise others with our joy, our kindness, and our love.

When my brother fell off of his roof, I was so struck by how fleeting life is that I extended a virtual “altar call” on social media to anyone who wanted to learn more about how to dedicate their lives to Jesus. Honestly? I didn’t expect anyone to respond. People usually don’t unless they know you well. I just felt the need to do it anyway.

But someone did. And that lady and I have been writing back and forth for about two weeks now. This woman has endured a lot of abuse and suffering in her life and is very confused about who Jesus is, so I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me when, at one point she asked, “Why are you doing this? What makes it worth it to you to keep writing me? I want to make sure I can repay you.”

At first, I kind of panicked because I thought, I don’t want anything from you except for you to find your way out of the despair that has been blackening your life and find hope in Christ. How-with your history–can I possibly make you believe that?

But then, this phrase popped into my head: “We love because he first loved us.”

It’s from 1 John 4, which has a lot to say about godly love and how we show it to others. But these are the words that I quoted to her:

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. We love because he first loved us. If anyone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannotlove God whom he has not seen. (1 John 4:18-20)

It’s that simple. “While were still sinners, Christ died for us.” And because of that unconditional love, which we celebrate with great joy at Easter, we are–if we have confessed our sins and accepted his salvation–enabled to extend that same love to others.

Every day and everywhere.

So, that is my hope for myself and you too on this, the not-so-special Monday after a special weekend. May we celebrate the joy of Easter year-round by being like Chip, who is, in turn, being like Jesus. Because Jesus first loved us.

And if you don’t know Jesus’ love or have questions about how to accept him as your personal Lord and Savior, please don’t hesitate to email me at blogabbie{at}gmail{dot}com. I would love to chat with you.