​For most, the scene was incidental. Inconsequential. It wasn’t even biblical; it was included only for effect. And yet it wrecked me.
 
There is a horrific depiction in the movie, The Passion of the Christ, of a trembling Jesus, chained to a whipping  post, being scourged to within an inch of His life by taunting,  heartless Roman soldiers. But that is not the scene to which I am referring. It was the next scene.
 
Soon after the limp and torn body of Jesus is dragged away there is a image of Mary, the mother of Jesus, on her hands and knees, cleaning up the mess. There were many scenes in the Passion that gripped my heart. But the picture of Mary, cradling towels soaked in her son’s blood, seared my soul. It triggered a memory I can never erase.
 
It was July of 1992. Our eight-year-old son was asked to walk with his little league team in our town’s annual Independence Day parade. My wife and daughters were also in the parade, having been invited to ride on our church’s float. Since I was the only family member not important enough to be in the parade I offered to chauffeur my wife and kids to the beginning of the parade route, watch the parade from there, then meet them back at home. The parade ended a block from our house so the plan was for Jan to walk home with the kids once they had all crossed the finish line.

I waved at my wife and kids as they passed by. Once the end of the parade was in sight I went home. While waiting for my family's return I was startled by the sound of  someone banging nonstop on our front door. I opened the door to find a frantic, out-of-breath teenage boy who gasped, “Call an ambulance. I hit a kid.”
 
I ran to the phone in the kitchen, called 911, and said, “Apparently someone’s been hit by a car.” I gave our address then went outside to see what had happened.
 
Dozens of people had already gathered in the middle of the street. I made my way to the center of the circle to see if I could help. What I saw I will never forget. Even now, decades later, whenever I think about that night, that dreadfully detailed image flashes in my mind. There was my son, sprawled out on the pavement, motionless, his eyes fixed and staring into space, streams of blood down his face. I have never felt a pain like that before. I hope to never feel it again.
 
I have much less clarity about what happened next. All I know is when we got to the hospital we knew our son was going to survive, but didn’t immediately know the extent of his injuries.
 
After a long night of x-rays, monitors, and MRIs, I went home the next morning to pick up some things for an extended hospital stay for me, my wife, and our son. As I turned onto our street, the early morning sun brought sobering clarity to what had happened the night before. There on the pavement, just a few yards from our house, was a pool of blood. That mere sight dredged up feelings I was not prepared or willing to feel. I soon found myself in the middle of the road, on my hands and knees, with a bucket and towels, wiping up my son’s blood. For a brief moment, I felt Mary's pain. And God's.
 
In my years of helping others through painful life experiences I have concluded that there is no pain worse than that of losing a child. Our son recovered fully from his injuries. I am grateful that my wife and I did not have to experience that pain. But I am even more grateful that God was willing to experience it.

God was willing to go through the worst pain imaginable—the pain of losing a child—because of His great love for us. We must ponder that on those days when we feel insignificant. We must think about that when life's circumstances make us wonder if we are valued by God.

He paid the ultimate price for us. The blood of His Son has washed away our sin and shame. The blood of His Son has restored us to right relationship with Him. The blood of His Son has insured that we will spend eternity in His loving presence.  
 
God showed how much he loved us by sending his one and only Son into the world so that we might have eternal life through him. This is real love—not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins (1 John 4:9-10, NLT).

Real love, indeed.

You are God’s child. God loves you. You matter to God.
 
For many of us, these have become nothing more than spiritual soundbites. We may know in our heads that these statements are true yet they aren’t much more than words. Their truth has no tangible impact on our lives. We accept as fact that we are God’s beloved children, yet we trudge along in this journey called life as orphans. Feeling empty. Unloved. Unimportant. Why? Because God’s words of affirmation have settled firmly between our ears.
 
I was raised in a religious tradition with a strong emphasis on biblical knowledge. As a young child, I remember having to memorize Scripture passages in order to earn gold stars that were affixed next to my name on a Sunday School chart. And while I am all for knowing God’s Word, knowledge alone will never lead to passion. Knowledge only has power when it is plugged into our hearts.
 
Jesus did not instruct us to love the Lord our God with all our mind and with all our mind and with all our mind. His great commandment to us is to love Him with all our heart and with all our soul and with all our mind (Matt. 22:37, NIV). We are to love Him with all of our being. In other words, we are to love Him the way He loves us.
 
The Bible is God’s love letter to His kids. Throughout Scripture, we are reminded over and over again that we are God’s children, that He loves us, that we matter deeply to Him. But for us to live with passion and experience the freeing, exuberant, abundant lives that our God wants us to have, God’s truth must be more than head knowledge. It is only when God’s words of truth travel a few inches south and infiltrate our hearts that they will begin to incubate. It is in our hearts that our thoughts are intertwined with feelings. When that happens, our beliefs become convictions.
 
It is not enough to know about God’s love for us. Truth becomes tangible when we experience it in our hearts.  

The story is told of a king who offered an award to the artist whose painting best represented peace. Many artists offered their renditions of peace. The king sifted through all the paintings before selecting the two he liked best.

One depicted a tranquil lake. The water serenly mirrored the surrounding majestic mountains, azure sky, and soft clouds. Those in the king's company who saw it doubted there could be a more perfect picture of peace.

The second painting had mountains, too. But they were jagged and menacing. They were being pelted by a relentless rain. As lightning flashed in the dark clouds hovering above, a thunderous waterfall tumbled to into the murky river below. Those in the king's company could not understand why the painting was not immediately ruled out. In their estimation, it portrayed the exact opposite of peace.

But they did not see in the painting what the king saw. Behind the waterfall was a tiny bush growing in the crevice of a rock. In the bush, surrounded by the rush of angry water, was a mother bird nestled in her nest.

Seeing the two paintings side by side made the king's decision easy. He chose the second one.

Those in his company couldn't hide their shock. "Why?" they blurted out.

The king explained. "Peace does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or turmoil. Peace means to be in the midst of all those things and still be calm in your heart. That is the real meaning of peace."

It is fairly easy to have a sense of peace when life is good; when we and those we love are in good health; when we have gainful employment, financial security; when things are going our way. But when storm clouds gather; when the winds of adversity blow; when we're being pelted by one crisis, disppointment, and rejection after another, our peace can dissipate in an instant.

The peace we find in this world can be fleeting. It is often based on our circumstances. But the peace God offers us is different.

Before Jesus left the earth and ascended into heaven He said, "I am leaving you with a gift--peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don't be troubled or afraid"--Jn. 14:27, NLT.  
 
The peace of God is deep, abiding, calming peace. It stands guard over our minds and hearts even in the midst of life's storms. It nudges us in the most trying times and whispers His promises: I will always love you. I will never leave you. I have a plan to prosper you, to give you hope and a future.

In the book of Ephesians, Paul writes: "For Christ himself has brought peace to us. (2:14, NLT). The angels who announced Jesus' birth said He came to bring "peace on earth to those with whom God is pleased" (Lk. 2:14, NLT).

God sent Jesus down from heaven with a gift bearing your name. It's a gift that cannot be found this side of heaven. If you haven't already, open it. Experience it for yourself. It will change your life.

I was cradling my beautiful new grandson soon after his arrival. As I held him close and looked at that sweet face I was overflowing with love for him; a love so deep that I realized that there was nothing I wouldn't do for him.

What exactly did he do to earn such love? Absolutely nothing. At that point in his young life, pretty much all he could do was eat, sleep, and poop. But I don't love him because of anything he does. I love him because of who he is. He's my grandson. 

In that tender moment I came to understand that my Heavenly Father loves me much the same way. He doesn't love me because of the things I do. He loves me because of who I am. I'm His child. Made in His image. Bought with a very high price.

Our Heavenly Father loves His kids without condition and without exception. He doesn't withhold His love until we've proven ourselves lovable. He loves us even when we smell and fuss and need to be changed. He overflows with love for us. He loves us so much that there is nothing He wouldn't do for us.

When I need to be reassured, when I need to feel secure, when I need to be reminded that I have value and am deeply loved, I know what I have to do. I must place myself in my Father's arms. ​

Hurting people are all around us. They ride the train with us. They check us out at the grocery store. They sit in the row with us at church. We often have no clue what is going on in the lives of people we encounter in the course of any given day.

Some folks are fine with that. They don't want anyone to know. Perhaps they choose to suffer in silence because they have come to believe no one wants to hear about their problems. Maybe they've convinced themselves that, compared to what others may be going through, their difficulties aren't really that big a deal. Others have determined that no one would understand anyway or, worse yet, care.

Then there are those who choose to keep their pain private for fear that people's responses will only make it worse.

One would think that, when it comes to responding to the heartaches of others, Christians, of all people, would get it right; that we would be quick to offer Jesus-like compassion and encouragement, prompting comforting words and helpful actions. That is not often the case.
 
Perhaps the most common response to those dealing with adversity is,  Let me know if you need anything. Christians quite often will also work into the conversation an I’ll pray for you. While these offers may appease the conscience of the giver, they do little to alleviate the sorrow of the receiver.
 
Some Bible-believing well-wishers quote Scripture verses to those who are hurting which, though they are truthful, are not always helpful. The recipient may be quite familiar with God's promise, "I will never leave you or forsake you." But their heart may not be in a condition to receive it. They feel abandoned and forsaken.
 
Many potential helpers, out of fear of saying the wrong thing, say nothing. They are uncomfortable talking about troubles like death, disease, divorce, or depression so they not only avoid such issues, they avoid those who may be experiencing them. And those who are hurting are driven even deeper into their pain.
 
So how might we respond in a more helpful way to those going through painful times? Here are a few suggestions:

• ​Instead of telling a hurting soul to let us know if he or she needs something, tell them what day we’ll bring dinner over or what afternoon we’ll watch their kids so they can have some time to care for themselves.
• Instead of telling them we’ll pray for them, pray for them right then and there—whether you’re at the funeral home, at church, or at the grocery store. As Bob Goff would say, “When it’s a matter of the heart, the place doesn’t matter.”
• Instead of feeling obligated to say something to them, just be there for them. Sometimes simply holding people in our arms and crying with them communicates God’s love in a more meaningful way than reciting the most enlightening psalm.

The secret to truly helping those who are hurting is really quite simple: We must show them what God's love looks like.

Sometimes we put too much emphasis on words. We try so hard to say just the right thing to help others to feel better, if only for a moment. But in actuality, more often than not, people forget what it said to them in trying times. But they remember who stood by them.

Instead of speaking from our heads and giving them information about God’s love, we must speak from our hearts and show them God’s love. His is a love that is selfless. Tender. Kind. Patient. 

​God's love is not always expressed in words. But it always shows up.

I am not much of a dancer. I’m convinced it’s genetic. It's a Dutch thing that goes way back. It has nothing to do with dancing being sinful. It was just too hard to do with wooden shoes. But I am least willing to try. 

A few years ago, my wife and I attended a dance class with some friends of ours. For me, it was the biggest waste of time since attending LeMaze classes before our first child was born. When my wife was in labor, I instinctively began to administer the effleurage massage technique I had practiced on her in class. Through the sweat and screams she gored me with her glare and said something to the effect of, "Stop touching me. I don't ever want you to touch me again." 

She denies saying that. But I know what I heard.

I was hoping for a more positive payoff for my efforts this time around, although we did get a pretty good kid out of the other deal.

For eight weeks, my wife and I took dancing lessons. I must say I held my own on the dance floor. I was able to do all the moves and do them in the right sequence without causing untold embarrassment to myself or the ones who love me. But I didn't learn how to dance.

The reality is, those eight weeks of lessons would have been enough; I could have learned how to dance if I then regularly went dancing. But going clubbing just isn’t a top priority for my wife and me. So any dance moves we may have picked up during those eight weeks were completely gone in two.

Like any other skill, learning how to dance takes discipline. We must not just receive instruction but put it into practice if we're going to be excel at it. 

That holds true for the fine art of loving others as well. 

If there is one thing our Heavenly Father wants His kids to excel at it's loving others. When asked by religious leaders what the greatest commandment was, Jesus, without hesitation, singled out loving as the most important thing Christians can do. And yet Christ-like love is often conspicuously absent in our interaction with others.   

Face it, if we’ve grown up in the church, we’ve received all kinds of instruction as to how we are to love God and others. We know all there is to know about the Bible's teachings on the subject. We may even have some of the love passages memorized.

But if we don't practice loving others and practice it faithfully, all that instruction means nothing.

In 1st Corinthians 13--commonly known as the love chapter--the Apostle Paul says it bluntly. It doesn't matter how eloquently we can speak the Gospel. It doesn't matter how deep our knowledge, our understanding, or even our faith. It doesn't matter how much money we give to the less fortunate. If we don't have love, we are nothing. 

Our Heavenly Father loves us with a love that will not give in, give up, or give out. Every day, we need to practice loving others that same way. Look for someone today to whom you can show genuine Christ-like love. Then look for someone else tomorrow. Then the next day. Who knows? You might get really good at it.

Christianity is not so much our pursuing God as God pursuing us. Our Heavenly Father's love for us is so inexhaustible that He seeks after us every single time we stray from Him. And the moment we turn back to Him, all of heaven bursts into thunderous applause. 

What makes my Heavenly Father's love for me so astounding is that He is able to look beyond my faults and see my need. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I could love like that.

Of all of God’s attributes, perhaps the greatest--and, to me, the most comforting--is the fact that He never changes. Living in a world of constant change makes it difficult for us to wrap our brains around the fact that God never changes. But God is immutable, which means that He is not only unchanging, He is unchangeable.

How does understanding that characteristic of our Heavenly Father give us comfort? Because we can depend on someone who never changes. We can trust someone who is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. We can believe with all our hearts in someone who will never go back on his word.

God tells us over and over again in His Word that He loves His children. That His love is everlasting. That nothing can separate us from it. He not only will not stop loving us, He can not stop loving us.  

In a world of instability--where love can be pulled out from under us at any time and for any reason, where people close to us cannot be trusted, where sometimes even our own fathers forsake us--it's reassuring to know that our Heavenly Father is always the same. He loves us and nothing will ever change that.