What Kind of God Is This?

(Written Thursday, November 17)
This morning I'm sitting on the sofa, candle lit, dog snoring. It's the sweetest time of my day, the time before everyone wakes. This is the time when I'm reminded of how deeply loved I am. I need reminding every single morning. The monotony of life drains me, leaving me like a car with no gasoline. This sofa is where the daily re-fueling begins.

Reading through the Bible again this year, I've slowed down to savor the gospels. They're particularly sweet this time through. And oh, the Book of John. This letter. This inside eyewitness account. This ancient manuscript whispering to me through the years. What strikes me most is the tender heart of Jesus.  All of those miracles poured out and not one for himself. All of that serving. Crowds following demanding signs. The sick and unclean pressing against him. The church leaders threatening death. Yet even in his final hours I find him there giving, giving, giving.

Look at how he speaks to his disciples:

"Do you understand what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you" (John 13:12-15).

He kneels down, takes their tired, swollen, dusty feet in his hands and washes them clean. There's your example, he says. Now it's your turn. Treat others this way. What in the world is he doing?

"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another" (John 13:34-35).

His commandment to them? Love one another. This is to be their defining quality. Love poured out on the edgy, selfish, defensive, grumbly people around them; trickling out from their own edgy, selfish, defensive, grumbly hearts. Not power. Not wisdom. Love.

"Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me" (John 14:1).


Don't be anxious, he tells them. Trust God. Trust me. Look in my eyes. Look at me. Don't look at anything else. Believe me.

"Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid" (John 14:27).


Shhhhh. You're safe. I'm right here.

The kindness of Jesus almost makes my heart burst. I can't take it all in; it's too much, like looking at the sun, like drinking from a fire hydrant.

You see, by John 14,  Judas has already slipped out and made the deal. A crowd of armed men is on the way. Judas is bringing them, giving up the wanted man's location. Jesus knows this. His gruesome, agonizing, flesh-ripping death is hours away, and what is he doing? Not running. Not hiding. He's tending to the hearts of those who love him, tending to their weak, doubtful, bet-hedging hearts. He's comforting them. He's preparing them. What grace. What kindness.

What kind of god is this? What diety pours himself out like this, humbles himself like this, is tender-hearted like this? I only know a hint of him, but I'll forever chase the mystery. This hint of him is nowhere near enough. No, it's not even close.