Like Jesus

I was recently presented with the question, “How do you love like Jesus?”

I found myself flipping through the rolodex in my memories as to all the seasons I’ve walked through thus far and how I related to Jesus. If you had asked early twenties Amy that question she would have related most to the commandments and structure Christ (and obviously the Old Testament) presented. Probably to the detriment of myself and others; I didn’t offer enough grace and lost sight of the beautiful Love of Christ and held on a little too tightly to the guideposts we should form our lives around.

In this season I’ve found myself drawn to the servanthood of Jesus. His consistent willingness to love others in tangible and practical ways that would leave a lasting impact. He healed, He fed, He gave water, He listened, He washed feet, He shepherded, He lovingly corrected, He was the most perfect and beautiful example of the goodness we all have the ability to have within us when we know Him as the healing salvation our soul desperately needs. My maternal grandmother was such an example of servanthood that I didn’t really take notice of until I was an adult myself. She always took a meal, watched a child, listened to the hurting and so much more. She was selfless in ways I’m still processing; and while none of us are without fault the legacy she left within me is one of being the hands of feet of Jesus when I’m able. If someone is sick, I want to take them foods that comfort and heal. If someone is mourning, I want to be a shoulder and listening ear. If someone feels overwhelmed, I want to help them clean their space to feel a sense of relief.

It’s easy to have conversations with people who have a very distorted, hurt, questionable, frustrated, or even angry view of Jesus due to the people who claim to love Him. I pray that I’m a place of peace to be welcomed as you are just as Jesus would do. While I pride myself on being honest and direct I never want it to come at the cost of someone else. I think as a society we’ve somehow lost the ability to truly hear one another and love each other even with our differences. I remember a very vivid conversation with a high school friend one night when I was in college. It was after hours of studying and I opened up AIM chat and had the most beautifully honest chat with my friend Cassie. We talked about Jesus and her questions and doubts and how she didn’t think she really believed anything about Him even though she had people in her life who had such a vivid and contagious faith. She shared her concerns and I listened and shared mine and it was this really cool conversation where we kind of “agreed to disagree” but still loved one another and never said those conversations were off the table. In fact we had many more just like it throughout our friendship. Even in my teenage years I hope I was a place of love and support for those I encountered; I may have not done it perfectly (and still don’t) but man if I don’t hope that was an impression I left.

Now that I’m a mom and I find myself tending to the nurturing, growing, education, love, compassion, spirituality, discipline and so much more of a whole human I view everything so differently. I want to know Jesus more intimately and deeply not only for myself, but so that my child sees a reflection of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control and hope in my presence. I want him to experience Jesus in his daily life through his mother (and obviously his father). I want my son to witness my struggles and whispers for forgiveness. I want him to see me place my hope in Christ when things seem hopeless. I want him to share in the joy of the goodness of God. I want him to see my imperfection and that God loves me anyways.

I don’t get it right. Often, I get it wrong.
I can feel the talons of evil scratching against the wall of salvation attempting to etch-in lies that are so easy to believe. You know the ones, the lies that threaten to tumble you down a rabbit hole of self loathing that you can’t quite seem to crawl out of.
and yet
God is good.
He reminds me of who He is and whose I am.
I pray, truly I pray, that the people I’ve encountered see just an ounce of Jesus in this wrecked and imperfect vessel. I hope that I leave just the slightest impact on those in my sphere of influence to know that they are loved not only by me but by Jesus (even if they don’t know Him). I hope I’ve done and will continue to do some good.