"All the paths of the LORD are steadfast love and faithfulness." ~Psalm 25:10
Reading through the psalms means reading much praise from the psalmists about the Lord's steadfast love, but I'm not sure I've ever appreciated those words more than I have lately. There is something unbelievably comforting when you read the word "steadfast" before "love." When I think of steadfast, I think of something unshakable and unmovable. "Steadfast" means more to me than "eternal" because, to me, it speaks of more than just the effects of time; it speaks about the effects of the chaos of life, of the ugly, dirty side that no one really likes to talk about. It says that not only will God keep loving regardless of how much time has past, but also He will keep loving me even when I am unlovable, unclean, despicable. Even when I'm angry, even when I don't listen, even when I turn my back on Him.
It brings to my mind Peter's failure to fulfill his promise to Jesus that he would never deny Him. He didn't just deny Jesus; he abandoned Him and left Him to be tried and crucified alone. All his boasting, all his promises...were just empty words. Yet when Jesus stepped out of His tomb, when He found Peter and spoke to him, He did not say, "I am done with you. You did not love me and you have chosen to be apart from me. Sorry." No...he just asked Peter to reaffirm his love, and gave him a mission. He wanted Peter to do His work. The failure. The quick-tempered guy full of great words and few actions. The one who'd ran. The one who'd taken his eyes off Jesus. Yes, that guy. Jesus loved him still.
During this Easter season, I'm also blown away once again as I stop to think about a God whose love is so deep that He chose to create us even though He knew--before He ever created the first man and woman--that we would deny Him and cost Him His life. I'm so grateful for a God who humbled Himself enough to meet us in our ugly places and in our failures. Only the Jewish priests could enter the Holy of Holies, and only after they had cleansed themselves, so they never expected a God who would reach out and seek out the company of sinners or "unclean" people, the people that they avoided.
But we have a God who didn't shudder at the touch of sinners, and for that I am thankful. I am thankful for a God who loved us even when we were unlovable and had rejected Him. For a God who chose to enter this world as a baby, born in a manger, in a town that was looked down upon, to be raised by a carpenter and his wife. For a God who probably had dirt under His fingernails as He reached out to heal a blind man, for a God who had a human voice, possibly choked with tears, as He called out to raise the dead to life. For a God who didn't turn away from the death, the brokenness, the tears, the pain--all that comprises the utter ruin of humanity and this earth. For a God who taught us--the masters of changing our minds, of thinking only of ourselves, of hurting and destroying the people we really care about--how to really love.
This Easter, I've learned I can rely on nothing. Not even myself. Everything changes, everything wavers. My love for God is as broken as Peter's. I so easily screw up my relationship with Him. I get angry and I refuse to trust. I pout like a spoiled child because my heart has been broken over loss or things that I placed my hope in that He did not allow come to pass. But the beautiful thing is that Jesus still loves me and He still has work for me to do. He meets me in this dark, ugly place and shines light and hope into the cold night. And when my emotions and desires struggle and change, He is steadfast.
