Sunday, May 5, 2013

I Love You More

I had some pretty scary thoughts as a kid. I was scared to death of germs (and washed my hands constantly). I wondered if the totality of my life was just a televised event (Truman Show style). I always considered what would happen if one of my family members were to die before I saw them again.

I'm not too sure that these thoughts are all that normal. Maybe they are. I don't know. Shockingly, however, some good things came out of it. Before I left my family for any period of time, I would always say that I loved them with each farewell. Sure, sometimes I just did it because I had gotten in the habit of it. But, in response to this, my father and I would have conversations that looked like this:

1. Goodnight, Tati! Love you!

2. *chuckle* I love you more.

3. No, I love you more!

Now, repeat 2 and 3 for a few minutes, and you'll get the gist of what happened.

It was essentially a verbal assault of love, trying to convince me that he loved me more. If I were to ask my dad to show me how much he loved me, he'd probably stretch his hands as far apart as they would go. And, being the child I was, his arm-span would always be larger than mine, reflecting how much more he really loved his son.

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son..." (John 3)
It was essentially a physical assault of love, trying to convince me that He loved me more. When I asked my Dad to show me how much He loved me, He stretched out his hands as far apart as they would go. And, being the sinner that I was, His arm-span would always be larger than mine, reflecting how much more He really loved His son.

In fact, He loved me so much, He stretched out His arms for 6 hours.

Sure, sometimes I tell Him I love Him out of habit, but the truth is that I don't have to worry about Him dying before I see Him again. Death will be the beginning of a very one-sided conversation on Who loved who more.

Turns out, it's Him.

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