I recently talked to a friend who commented that God had been chastising him for losing his “first love.” His eyes teared up as he said this, and I can only imagine the path his mind wandered as he contemplated this statement.
For those unfamiliar with the term, it is spoken by Jesus in Revelation 2:4: Nevertheless, I have this against you, that you have left your first love.
Initially, those who become Christians have an excitement for the newness of life and freedom we experience at the hand of Christ. There is a passion for learning all one can about this Savior who has granted us such rich forgiveness. Bible study and prayer are among our highest priorities. Joy overflows as the topic of God infiltrates every conversation, and love for our Savior nearly bursts the seams of our hearts.
But as the normalcy of life seeps in, the enthusiasm wanes. We become beleaguered with the day-to-day responsibilities. Inner battles cause us to question our faith. Spiritual struggles creep in to pull us further from the truth and back toward self-reliance. We slowly start to neglect our prayer life. And the Bible sits on a shelf, gathering dust.
Soon, what was once so pure and personal and passionate becomes dulled with the daily grind. And our love grows cold and stale.
The miraculous gets swallowed in the confines of the mundane. Choked out by the cares of this world. Strangled by the trials of life. Overrun by our pursuit of material wealth and comfort.
Not surprisingly, spiritual amnesia is death to our first love.
But if forgetting is detrimental to our soul life, then remembrance is our spiritual CPR.
In remembering, we invite God to take us back to that initial moment of salvation.
Recollection and thankfulness are the bedrock of daily faith.
Remembrance is the key that unlocks the door of our first love and invites it to enter into those times when living this Christian life doesn’t seem all that remarkable.
Gratefulness beckons Jesus to come once again. Here in the mediocre tasks of laundry and carpools and time clocks and schedules and the endless assembly line of to-dos.
Remembering ignites my faith for today by taking me back to my first love of yesterdays . . .
I remember the stirring of a young girl’s heart rushing into the outstretched arms of a Savior.
I remember the moment Jesus became real to me for the very first time and for the scores of “first time” moments that have occurred throughout my years.
I remember the prayer and the miracle of healing touch as a shortened leg stretched out to catch up with its partner. And the thick, insole insert was removed from my shoe and ceremoniously dumped into the trash can.
I remember the bubbling of Spirit’s presence coursing through me, spilling out with sheer joy in a high no earthly drug could offer.
I remember being convicted of sin and of righteousness, gently turned to yield to a better way.
I remember the untold times when peace has stilled my quaking heart and calmed my racing thoughts with the simple truth of I AM being known in me.
And as long as I remember, I am held.
Steady.
Firm.
Grounded.
Graced with the faith to hope and believe still.
If you find yourself in a place where your first love has been smothered by the world’s offerings, I invite you to pause and remember.
Right now.
Wherever you are.
Remember how lost and alone you once felt.
Remember the sense of God’s Spirit inviting you to join Him in holy communion.
Remember His love infiltrating your heart and filling all the emptiness.
Remember Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross — the beating, the bruises, the pierced side, the blood poured out, streaming down rugged cross beams.
That blood was shed for you.
Each lash of the whip tearing into muscles and ligaments was endured for your freedom.
Each strike of hammer upon nail-pierced feet and hands was for you.
Your sin absorbed by a love that is boundless and perfect, so you would never have to pay the penalty.
Death extinguished by the Light of the world gasping His final earthly breath so you could breathe freely forever.
A rescue mission that cost Jesus everything.
That gracious forgiveness is yours.
Was then, and is now.
Even if you take it for granted.
Lord, may we not take it for granted.
Remember the grace that has been given, and reach out for it again.
Ask Christ to stir you with truth and tuck love securely back into your heart once more.
Because first love can be today’s love.
Again.
And always.