My sheep know my voice, and I know them—I see, love, desire, understand, care for and protect each of them. No one and nothing will snatch them out of my hand or diminish them in my heart. (Expanded paraphrase of John 10:27-28)
Lord Jesus, long before I knew you I learned the little chorus, “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” I still sing it, treasure it, and know it to be one of the most profound affirmations our hearts can make. But equally so, I’m grateful to affirm, “Jesus knows me, this I love.”
Far better than anybody “getting us,” you know us, Jesus—in the most intimate, caring, and engaged way—the best and worse, the beautiful and the broken parts of our stories and hearts. You’re never shocked by what we think or do. This doesn’t mean you’re indifferent, Jesus; it means your mercy and grace anticipate all the ways we will need you all the way Home. Hallelujah, and thank you.
You’re not pulling for us; you’re living in us. You’re not “up there”; you’re right here. You didn’t sleep last night; you were steadfastly interceding for us—just like you will be doing all this Saturday long. You will cease being God before you stop loving us. We’re not your project; we’re your Bride.
You know the things we’re struggling with right now, Jesus—the ways we’re not as free or joyful as you intend. Thank you for knowing, caring, and being at work. Your hands aren’t tied by anything—by our unbelief, stubbornness, fears or anything else. You don’t need us to open a door for you, for you own the whole house and can light a fire in the basement. You don’t need our permission to heal us, change us, or bless us. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Jesus knows me, this I love. So Very Amen.