Children are famous for asking why. They ask it incessantly, about everything… why is the sky blue, why do I have to sleep, why does it rain, why can’t I have another cookie. At some point, parents either run out of answers or are forced to dig deeper into mysteries that even they can’t fully explain.
This weekend, as I sat meditating once again on the sufferings of Christ, His pierced hands, the stripes laid upon His back, the mockery, the nails, the forsaking, I found myself asking that old childlike question again and again: Why? Why would God do all this? Why go to such lengths? Why endure such shame, such agony, such wrath, for humanity like us, for me?
It’s not the first time this question has been asked. King David asked it long before I ever did. “What is man that you are mindful of him,” he wrote, “and the son of man that you care for him?” (Ps. 8:4). He looked up at the night sky, saw the stars flung across the heavens, and wondered how such a God, so vast, so glorious, could care at all for such fleeting creatures of dust.
And yet He does. More than that, He loves. Not in vague sentiment or soft tolerance, but in fierce, covenantal pursuit. A love that stretches back before the foundation of the world and forward into eternity. A love that bleeds, dies, and rises again. A love we cannot earn, cannot increase, and cannot diminish. A love so complete and full now as it ever was and ever will be. It simply is, because He is.
The most foundational answer to my question is the simplest and most profound: God is love (1 John 4:8). His love is not like ours, fluctuating, needy, transactional. His love is eternal and self-originating, flowing not from any worth in me but from the inexhaustible fullness of who He is. He doesn’t love because He finds me lovely. He loves in order to make me lovely. His love is not a reaction; it is a reality.
And yet, He does not love at the expense of His justice or truth. His love never compromises His holiness. That is why the cross was necessary. For God to be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus (Rom. 3:26), sin had to be punished. Justice had to be satisfied. The debt had to be paid. So He paid it, Himself. The Son bore the curse. The Judge stood in the place of the condemned. The cross reveals the astonishing depth of this love. “God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8). Not when I was seeking Him. Not after I cleaned myself up. Not when I finally got things right. But while I was hostile in mind and heart, alienated and dead in sin, then, He died. Then, He called. Then, He loved.
And why? Because He delights to. That truth still undoes me. It pleased the Father to give me the kingdom (Luke 12:32). He rejoices over His redeemed with singing (Zeph. 3:17). He didn’t save me grudgingly, but gladly. He wasn’t compelled by anything outside Himself, but moved by His own divine pleasure and purpose. He also did it to glorify His name. Ephesians 1 tells us that He predestined us for adoption through Jesus Christ “to the praise of His glorious grace.” He loved us in order to magnify His grace. He chose to save the utterly undeserving so that the immeasurable riches of His kindness might be seen and savored throughout all ages. In loving sinners, God puts on display the very brilliance of His name, gracious, compassionate, abounding in steadfast love.
And He did it to fulfill the covenant. Just as God chose Israel not because they were numerous or strong, but simply because He loved them and kept His promise (Deut. 7:7–8), so He chose me. He bound Himself to me in love, not because I was worthy, but because He had set His affection upon me before I ever drew breath. Since God’s love is covenantal, it is not based on shifting feelings or shallow emotions. It is rooted in His eternal purposes. “The LORD did not set his affection on you and choose you because you were more numerous than other peoples,” He told Israel, “for you were the fewest of all peoples. But it was because the LORD loved you and kept the oath he swore to your ancestors…” (Deut. 7:7–8). His love is not reactive; it is resolute. From the first whisper of the gospel in the garden, when God promised that the seed of the woman would crush the serpent’s head, to the final promise of the New Heaven and New Earth, every movement of redemptive history has been the unfolding of His steadfast love to a chosen people.
I am also reminded that I was a gift given by the Father to the Son. Jesus said, “All that the Father gives me will come to me” (John 6:37). The Son came to redeem what the Father had entrusted to Him. He came not to lose one soul that had been placed in His hands. He endured the cross “for the joy that was set before Him”, the joy of seeing His bride ransomed, purified, and glorified.
And even now, He continues to love me with a tenderness I can scarcely understand. Psalm 103 says He knows my frame. He remembers I am dust. He is not surprised by our frailty. His love is fatherly, steadfast, unchanging. When I fall, He lifts. When I grieve, He comforts. When I fear, He strengthens. Nothing can separate me from this love, not death or life, not angels or rulers, not things present or things to come (Rom. 8:38–39).
So I ask again, Why does God love me so? Because He is love. Because He chose to. Because it brings Him glory. Because it pleased Him. Because I am His. This is a love that silences my pride, quiets my fears, and fuels my worship. It is the bedrock of my identity and the anchor of my hope. It is the truth that holds me fast when all else shakes.
What then can we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, how will He not also with Him graciously give us all things? (Rom. 8:31–32). There is no deeper mystery, no higher calling, no sweeter comfort than this: the eternal God, the Creator of all things, loves me. Not because of what I have done, not because of who I am, but because of who He is. And in that love, He will not rest until all His purposes in me are fulfilled and I stand before Him, glorified, a trophy of grace, to the praise of His glorious name.
Behold what manner of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God—and so we are (1 John 3:1). Let that wonder never cease to astound us. Let it humble us, sustain us, and lead us to worship.
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