When I was fighting cancer, my second round of chemotherapy was just before Easter. Late one night I felt something growing deep in my spirit. Perhaps it’s because when you’re so helpless and uncertain of the future, you begin seeing what’s truly important and lasting. I know how clichéd this may seem; I don’t think I have the adequate words to communicate what I saw and felt—what I still do.
The only word I have is love. Everything, and I mean everything, is about love. I won’t pretend I have it down, that love guides all I think and do, but I do know when I look at people now—whether it’s my family or someone I don’t know—I see at least some of the love with which God sees them, and the love available to them to grow and become all they can be in him. Sometimes it’s overwhelming, wanting everyone to experience all the love they need to be healed, whole, peaceful, joyful, and brilliant. I think it’s a little taste of how God feels all the time.
In Hebrews 12:2, it says Jesus endured the cross because of the joy set before him. You are his joy. This Easter, and every day after, set your heart to continuously receive the joyful love he sees you with, then see your world as he does.