“I didn’t know that I could have a friend like You.”
-“Communion,” by Maverick City Music

I look out my window for the thirty-eighth time today. Each glance has found a different sight: a torrential downpour, a bolt of lightning, blotches of sunshine, a gentle drizzle, a lazy sunset. This time, though, I see a beautiful cluster of pink-tinted clouds nuzzled against a blue-grey background. As my eyes scan the white pavilion, soft green grass, and dancing blue pool water, I acknowledge the disbelief swelling up in my heart that says, “You don’t deserve this beauty.”

And I don’t.

But the moment that thought forms in my mind, another sentence emerges. This latter sentence is more like a whisper, a familiar fragment. This inviting phrase hints about “rain,” “the just,” and “the unjust.” I open a new tab on my laptop and look up the scripture reference: Matthew 5:45.

My heart seems to breathe a sigh of relief. Of course it’s Matthew 5. God has been using this section of scripture and surrounding passages for the past few years, emphasizing different parts but always echoing the same message: “I still love you.”

I read the verse in its entirety. Jesus is instructing His followers to extend love and kindness even to those who wrong them so that they “may be sons of your Father in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.”

I peer out the window again. The side of the house looks ablaze from the brightness of the sun – it’s still shining on me! On me, whose heart seems so evil. On me, whose ways seem so unjust. On me.

God doesn’t withhold His goodness or beauty or kindness. He is generous. Gracious. Compassionate.

I make poor choices all the time. Not mistakes – choices. Sometimes I’m aware that I’m choosing less than what God asks of me, less than what He deserves. I’ve grown steadily more aware of my selfishness, greed, impatience, and lust. I’m realizing why “Amazing Grace” says that He saved “a wretch like me.” I remember the first time I heard that lyric as a child I thought, “A wretch? I don’t think I’m that bad…” Though as I’ve gotten older and learned more about my Father and more about myself, I see more clearly.

Romans 5:8 is incomprehensible yet understandable, and now I sing with conviction, “When I was Your foe, still Your love fought for me” (“Reckless Love”). However, I want to sing, “Still I am Your foe – how can You fight for me?” The tension between condemned sinner and redeemed saint is one I struggle with, because, like Paul, I do not do what I want to do (Romans 7:19). It is inconceivable that what Jesus has done could save someone as sinful as myself. What are the depths of this scandalous grace?

Now, somehow, I’m not a foe; I’m a friend. Once a wretch, now a daughter. I still sin, yet I’m covered by the blood of Jesus, so God lavishes His grace, mercy, and forgiveness on me. When I call on Him, He answers, is ready to forgive, and is abundant in mercy (Psalm 87:5, 7, 15).

I am overwhelmed that God would create a world that shouts of His faithfulness. The sun has risen and is now setting, and it will rise again in the morning. It just finished raining, but the rain will return. Even when I mess up. Even when I get it right. Even when I choose poorly. Even when I choose wisely.

He is faithful.

So I’ll keep looking out my window. When I doubt His love, I’ll look to see if the stars are still shining, if the dawn is still coming, if the grass is still growing, if the rain is still falling. And each time my heart asks, “Do You still love me?” the answer will still come, “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“Yes.”