Love requires humility and this is why today’s verses are so powerful. Jesus speaks and humbles me, then tells me the logical result of being a humble person.
You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you. These things I command you, so that you will love one another. (John 15:16–17, ESV)I didn’t one day up and decide to be a Christian. The Bible is clear that, “None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God. All have turned aside; together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one.” (Romans 3:10–12, ESV)
That says no one, and all, not even one — so that applies to me. I would not seek God and could not choose Him. Being contrary to God is part of human sinful nature. Seeking Him and choosing Him is a foreign idea.
So He chose me.
That boggles my mind. It makes no sense. Not only did God pick me, but He gave me something to do and the power to do it. In the face of that, I cannot be proud. Proud of what? Nothing.
In recognizing that God gave me what I don’t deserve, and didn’t do with me as I do deserve, there is no room for anything but reliance on Him for everything. This includes the desire and ability to care about others. I know my sinful self and my pride. Nothing I have can be anything or do anything that has eternal value. I cannot love others without Him. I cannot do anything without Him. Yet He picked me, appointed me, and commands me to be fruitful.
I feel as if I’m blabbering. Such amazing truths undo me. I need to stop writing and go talk to Him. He says He will give me whatever I ask. The fact of it is, I don’t even know what to ask, so He has to tell me that too. What helplessness, yet this is also fascinating. When this worthless yet chosen soul is walking with the Lord Jesus Christ and speaking with my God and Father, I am in a most peaceful, carefree, and happy place. And I don’t understand that either. I can’t decide whether to leap in the air and click my heels together — or just fall on my face.