Celebrate God’s Reckless Love

    He sneezed and coughed smack-dab in my face. I knew I was doomed, but I was not putting that baby down unless he wanted down.
    “He” is my grandson Miles, who came with his three adorable siblings and parents to visit us at Thanksgiving. Baby Miles was sick the entire time and spent most of their visit sleeping somewhere. I sure hated it for him, but it meant he wanted to be held, and this Gram was more than willing to do that.
    Normally, I’m a bit of a “germaphobe” these days. I wouldn’t say I’m certifiably neurotic about it, but I’m definitely quicker to whip out the hand sanitizer than I used to be.
    As we all know, the older one gets, the more challenging it is to stay healthy, even if one does all the right things. Not that I exactly do ALL the right things. I’m not giving up sugar unless I hear an audible command from heaven, but I do (mostly) try to be good.
    I just think my immune system is becoming a bit wimpy from underuse. When my kids were little and I was more often around the teeming, germy masses, it seemed like viruses ricocheted off me like BBs bouncing off Kevlar body armor. But now that I live a slightly more cloistered existence, I seem to catch every bug that rides in on my grandkids.
    However, in spite of knowing I was probably setting myself up for days of sniffles, sneezes and general misery, I never considered not holding Miles. A healthy Miles would’ve been dismantling our Christmas décor and crawling through our house like Gen. Sherman marching through Atlanta, but puny Miles was quite content to just snuggle. What red-blooded, card-carrying grandmother could resist that? Not this one.
    Real love trumps fear every time.
    I know it won’t be long before Miles is all grown up and won’t want to snuggle with me anymore. Time truly does fly and I’m keenly aware I better take every opportunity to love the people God has placed in my life however, whenever, and as much as I can.
    I don’t think anything has taught me more about God’s love for me than my love for my children and grandchildren, and yet I know my feelings are but an imperfect shadow of the fierce, perfect, unconditional love of God.
    We can see the depth of that love in Romans 5:8: “But God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
    Do we imagine Jesus didn’t know what He was getting into when He willingly subjected Himself, for our sakes, to the indignities of living in a human body on a broken planet for every minute of more than 12,000 days? Do we imagine He didn’t know what it would cost Him to redeem us? Oh, He knew, and He came anyway.
    Our church sings a popular praise song about the “reckless love of God.” The word “reckless” may bother you, but I think it’s a pretty good description of a love that keeps risking, pursuing and enduring in the face of blatant rejection and animosity.
    Christmas is, in fact, a wonderful reminder of God’s “reckless” love—a love that opens wide its arms to us, even in our weakest, sickest moments. Even when we sneeze in His face.
    In case you’re wondering, I did catch Miles’ virus and was sidelined for more than a week. But I’d do it again to love on that precious baby.
    And if I, a selfish and sinful human, can love so “recklessly,” imagine how God loves us.
    Oh, wait, we don’t have to imagine. We know: “For God so loved the world, He gave His only begotten Son … (John 3:16).”