Hard to Love. . . Who, Me?

You are not hard to love.

So read the subject line of a recent devotional in my email inbox. 

My initial thought came with a slight chuckle as I countered, “Oh, but I am.” 

The truth is sometimes I am hard to love. 

I can be impatient and irritable and selfish, and just downright cranky, making it difficult for the folks around me who receive the fall-out of my hard-to-love attributes. When I am tired and stressed and reacting with my natural inclinations rather than a Spirit-infused one, I can test the limits of love. Just ask my husband. 

Relating easily to the opening lyrics of Lee Brice’s country music song, “I am insensitive, I have a tendency to pay more attention to the things that I need.”

Instead of selflessly giving, I selfishly take, over-focusing too much on what is best for me. 

Especially when it comes to my relationship with Father.

I mean, look at the one-sidedness of this relationship. At the beginning of our friendship, I was God’s sworn enemy. I gave no thought to anything that broke His heart, immersing myself in the kingdom of darkness at war with the light of His love. I was a POW with zero hope of rescue.

Enter Jesus. 

Striding into the enemy’s camp, He submitted Himself to the cruelest torture and a humiliatingly gruesome death in exchange for my freedom.

At first, His sacrifice is startling as I humbly accept what He has offered. I live in awe of this great exchange and vow to change my ways as I commit my life to Him. I step away from the darkness and marvel at my newfound freedom and His love filling my heart. I cannot thank my Savior enough for setting me free.

But time passes, and spiritual amnesia sets in. The scent of freedom becomes commonplace as I forget the stench of the cell where I once dwelt. Profuse gratitude slips into everyday entitlement, and I gradually take my Savior’s continual presence and unconditional love for granted. 

Days slip by when I barely give Him more than a brief greeting. Each morning He gifts me with a sunrise bursting with warmth and light, all of nature bathed in glorious beauty, to which I toss a cursory nod before hurrying off on selfish whims. 

Time and again, I come to Him crying with wounds and hurts that He patiently heals, lavishing ministrations of love and mercy upon my broken heart. When He invites me to visit for a while, I mostly decline His invitations to linger long, choosing instead to turn my attention to other matters. He reminds me of His 24/7 open-door policy before I give Him a quick hug while glancing over His shoulder to check the latest notifications on my cell phone, already thinking about other things. I barely breathe, “Thank You for fixing everything again,” before I rush off. 

Hard to love, indeed. 

And yet, love me, He does. 

And love me, He will. 

Because Father has promised, and He never goes back on His word.

He hasn’t changed His mind about loving me, even though I sometimes do not make it easy. 

Today I am reminded of Father’s favor as I add my voice to Lee’s Brice’s and say, “I don’t deserve it, but I love that You love me good.”

No matter how hard to love, I may be.