I was terrified when I was pregnant with my second child—and not from fears about the labor and delivery or even if there was something wrong with my unborn child. It’s just that when I became a mother the first time, with my son, my world had changed. When he came forth and the doctor lifted him high, it was as if the heavens had opened and God’s light was shining down right on my son there in his hands. I felt like “Circle of Life” from The Lion King was playing and all the angels were celebrating. I fell madly and deeply in love with that precious little boy for whom I had prayed, and our bond was instantly sealed.
How, then, could I love another, a second baby, the same way? I was certain my heart didn’t have the capacity for that kind of feeling.
I was absolutely wrong. It was exactly the same with my daughter. Just like that, my capacity to love doubled.
If I, a mere and flawed human woman, can love my kids that much, how much more do I think the God of the Universe loves me—and each and every one of us?
But sometimes doubts creep in. While Jesus Himself tells us that “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him won’t perish but will have eternal life” (John 3:16 CEB), I wonder—God loves humanity, but does He love me specifically? Me, with all my faults and petty issues and weaknesses. Me, all broken and prideful and struggling. Me, so undeserving, so in need of grace.
Not only that, but I know my concerns pale in comparison to the really big concerns of someone else facing something far, far worse. Why, then, would God care about my worries, my walk, my problems?
It’s because I’m God’s child. He cares about me because he made me in His image. He cares about us all. There’s nothing we can do to earn that love—it just is.
And while humans might worry about the finite capacity of their love, God has no such problem because God is, well, God. God is the alpha and omega, the very essence of love. God’s love knows no bounds.
My doubts are unfounded; they’re a lie. Pick up the Bible, and I see this from beginning to end.
In the Gospel of John, we are reassured that “Those who believed in his name, he authorized to become God’s children, born not from blood nor from human desire or passion, but born from God” (John 1:12-13).
Further, Jesus tells us that when it comes to His Father, “Even the hairs of your head are all counted” (Matthew 10:30).
So when I look at my children, my husband, everyone else I love so deeply and fully, I see it so clearly now: God loves me, and you, and in fact every one of us, collectively and individually. And He cares—from our terrible nightmares to our desperate agonies to our lonely cries to our skinned knees and splinters.
He’s like a mom, only way, way better.