People have told me my whole life long that Jesus loves me, but for years I just couldn't believe it. I hated myself to the point that I didn't believe anyone could like me, let alone love me the way He supposedly did.
Even though things have changed and I have no doubt that His love for all of us is vast, sometimes I let it slip from my mind or even convince myself that He doesn't love me as much when I do something I know I shouldn't.
Yesterday I was watching a little girl with Reactive Attachment Disorder. She was once a foster child, moved from house to house until she was finally adopted. Now, at the age of five, she finds it extremely difficult to trust anyone.
I had been informed that children with her condition don't react well to anger, but rather to outgoing affection. So yesterday, when I was at my literal wit's end, holding her arms as firmly as I could to keep her from kicking me, God told me what to say.
"I love you," I said intensely, looking straight into her sparkling dark eyes.
"No, you don't," she responded reflexively.
"Yes, I do."
"No, you don't."
"I love you!"
"No, you don't!" she cried.
This went on for awhile. Finally, standing on top of her bed, she said the only thing she could think to say.
"How many times to I have to tell you?! No, you don't!" she yelled.
"How many times do I have to tell you that I love you before you actually believe it?!" I yelled back.
It was as if Jesus said those words through me and to me at the same time.
"And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." Ephesians 3:17-19
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