“We love because he first loved us.” — 1 John 4:19 (NIV)
THE JOURNEY
For the first six months after we adopted him, our seven-year-old son, Marcus, lived like a tenant on a short-term lease. He kept his backpack packed in the corner of his room. He hoarded snacks under his pillow. If he spilled a cup of juice, he would freeze, squeeze his eyes shut, and wait for the yelling to start.
He was operating on a transaction-based understanding of the world: If I behave, I get food. If I mess up, I get rejected.
One afternoon, the inevitable happened. Marcus was playing ball in the living room—something he knew was against the rules—and the ball went rogue. It smashed into a framed family photo on the mantel, sending glass shattering across the hardwood.
I heard the crash from the kitchen. When I ran in, the room was empty. The front door was wide open.
I panicked. I ran outside and found him huddled behind the hydrangea bushes in the front yard. He was shaking, clutching his knees, his face buried in his arms. He was waiting for me to tell him to pack his bags. He was waiting for the “eviction.”
I didn’t yell. I sat down in the mulch next to him.
“Marcus?” I whispered.
He didn’t look up. “I broke it,” he sobbed. “I broke the picture. I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”
My heart broke. He thought his place in the family depended on his performance. He thought my love was a wage he had to earn, and he had just gone bankrupt.
I pulled him into my lap. He stiffened at first, then collapsed against me.
“Marcus, look at me,” I said, tilting his chin up. “The picture is just glass. We can fix glass. But you are my son. There is nothing you can break that will make me stop loving you. You don’t have to run away when you mess up. You run to me.”
In that moment, the dynamic shifted. He realized that he didn’t have to buy my love with good behavior. My love was already a fact; he just had to settle into it. Once he realized he was safe, his behavior actually changed—not out of fear, but out of gratitude. He started to love me back, not to earn his spot, but because he finally believed the spot was his.
Heart of the Matter
Many of us treat God the way Marcus treated his adoptive father. We believe in a “Transaction God.” We think: If I pray enough, if I serve enough, if I am good enough, then God will love me. We view God’s love as a reaction to our performance.
But the Bible paints a completely different picture. It tells us that God made the First Move. Before you were born, before you prayed your first prayer, before you did a single good deed, God set His affection on you.
The user prompt suggests, “Love God and He’ll love you back.” This is true in the sense of relationship—relationship is a loop. But the theology of the Anchor Verse goes deeper: We only have the capacity to love Him because He already loves us.
Think of it like a mirror. A mirror cannot generate light; it can only reflect it. You are the mirror. God is the Sun. When you turn your face toward Him (love Him), you suddenly light up—not because you created the light, but because you are finally positioned to reflect the love that has been shining on you all along.
Faith in Action
We spend so much energy trying to climb up to God. Today, stop climbing.
The Challenge: Find five minutes of silence today. Sit in a chair with your palms facing up on your lap. Do not pray a list of requests. Do not apologize for your sins. Simply say: “God, I am here to receive. You loved me first. I am just sitting in the sun.”
Imagine His love not as a prize to be won, but as an atmosphere you are breathing. Let Him start the conversation.
Prayer for the Day
Father of Lights, I confess that I often treat Your love as a wage to be earned. I feel like I have to be perfect to stay in the family. Thank You for making the First Move. Thank You that while I was still far off, You ran to me. I choose to love You today, not to pay a debt, but to reflect Your light. I take my backpack out of the corner; I am home. Amen.
LOVE Note
“God loves you. He’s the One who pursued you. He’s the One who crossed the universe to find you.” — Max Lucado
