Why did I think that love was ever free? It is the very
essence of who You are; and it is freely given. But it is costly;
to a Father, it cost Him His Son’s life, to a Son, it cost him everything. I
want love as a pleasure, to be as naturally given as it is His nature simply to
be:
love.
After all, isn’t dying natural?
But I agonize when it costs me to love, when it is painful.
And
it is. But this painful dying to self is really the only way to live and
genuinely love. And so even when it hurts Lord, may I
remember how much more You bled, how much more You have always freely given me
Yourself; given away Your costly love
gladly, graciously, with no reserve.
This woman, she broke a bottle of expensive perfume,
poured it at Your feet, washing away the dirt with the silk of her hair. It
had to cost her. She had to lose what she valued for something she valued more,
You.
…and [she] stood at His feet behind Him
weeping; and she began to wash His feet with her tears, and wiped them
with the hair of her head; and she kissed His feet and anointed them
with the fragrant oil. (Luke 7)
He saw her
heart. Saw her tears because He does care. He recognizes sacrifice no matter
how much it pales in comparison to His.
“Do you see this woman? I entered your
house; you gave Me no water for My feet, but she has washed My feet with her
tears and wiped them with the hair of her head. 45 You gave Me no kiss, but this
woman has not ceased to kiss My feet since the time I came in. 46 You
did not anoint My head with oil, but this woman has anointed My feet with
fragrant oil. 47 Therefore I say to you, her sins, which are many, are
forgiven, for she loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same
loves little.” (Luke 7)
Lord, may I be willing to let love
cost me everything—to gain everything. May
I love much because I am loved more.
