When I was a little girl and the thunder would crash outside my window rattling the panes and wooden shutters, I would pull my covers up over my head, tightly squeeze my eyes shut and try to imagine that it wasn’t storming. I hated night and I hated storms, and both were closing in around me. No matter how hard I tried, the storms wouldn’t go away with even my most earnest imagining, so I would lay there in the dark listening to the skies bellow and roar, and I’d sing to myself, Jesus loves me, this I know.
When I was a little older and had to go to a birthday party or other event without my Mom, I would panic inside. Big groups of people made me nervous, and when my Mom couldn’t stay I would feel the anxiety quickly rise in my chest. I couldn’t hide from friends or just snap my finger and be gone, so I would hum softly and the words would calm my anxious heart, Jesus loves me, this I know.
When I was a teenager and each attempt to make friends seemed to fall short, I wanted to give up and just stay home forever. But as we started going to a new church, each Sunday I’d walk back in, silence the insecurities that screamed within me, and talk to people even when I was afraid of them not liking me, all the while playing through my mind and heart the truth that made every fear of rejection dissipate, Jesus loves me, this I know.
As I’ve grown older, and the moves have come, friends have gone, pain and sorrows hit, and fears threatened to cripple, it’s the same simple truth I keep on clinging tightly to, Jesus loves me, this I know. When a pandemic swept the globe and normalcy became a thing of yesterday, it was the same old song I’d hum as I drifted off to restless sleep, Jesus loves me, this I know. When the questions remain unanswered and the thorn makes it’s home in one’s side, it is the same beautiful realization that gives strength for each stride, grace sufficient for whatever comes, Jesus loves me, this I know.
We’ve seen in recent weeks that change in this world is imminent. Diseases strike nations, divisions within leadership bring strife and uncertainty, and you never know when it will be the last time you hug your friend. But the hope we need, the source of joy in all of this, is the same simple song people have been singing year after year, Jesus loves me, this I know. Because nothing, nothing, nothing, can separate us from that love.
For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.Romans 8:38-39 ESV
Not the thunderstorm. Not the parties without your Mom. Not the insecurities that arise when trying to make friends. Not the pandemic that stares us in the face. Not political unrest or strife. Not loneliness. Not illness. Not even death. In all of this and everything else we as children of the living God can sing forth with confidence and hope, Jesus loves me, this I know and it’s enough.
I don’t know what’s heavy on your heart today, dear believer. But I’m willing to bet there’s something. After all, this life may be short but it’s hard. Whatever it is, sing to your soul, Jesus loves me, this I know and remember that nothing in this whole scary world can change that truth.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.