My four year old, Sara, hopped in bed with us this morning. I love early morning cuddles and I love saying to my girls, “I love you.”
Sara, however, usually pushes back my I love you’s by saying, “You ALWAYS say that to me.”
This morning, I thought I would try a different route with the hopes she’d truly understand that I love her. So, instead of saying it, I thought I’d define it. I asked Sara if she knew what “love” meant and then told her, “It is the most ‘like’ there is.” She only giggled, but I knew it had meant something.
I think we draw a distinction between like and love sometimes. We know our parents love us – care for us, will provide for us, won’t leave us – but we’re not always secure they like us.
We often approach God the same way. He loves me – he has to… he’s God. He’ll probably accept me into heaven, he’ll probably forgive me of stuff, but I’m not always secure he likes me.
This lack of confidence that God likes us, values us, desires us is at the heart of much joyless Christianity.
Without delving too deep, I think we need to realize that love is the most “like” there is.