How He Loves Us.

I get home tonight and check MySpace and becoming instantly, amazingly happy to see that John Mark McMillan has created a new profile, to which he has posted the song "How He Loves Us" - which I happen to believe is quite possibly the best worship song written, at least after just finishing listening to it.

But, as the final lyrics passed by, the emotion hanging heavy in John's voice, I felt a pain and a question hit my heart. How do we respond to the love of God? And this isn't a question as to how much we love God - the answer there is far too little. My thoughts were on how should we respond to a love so great, so penetrating, so mysterious, even sometimes so gracefully painful?

How do you sing of God's love when you're afraid for your parent's lives? When you're worried about being sick? When you don't feel fulfilled in your day-to-day life and have no real image of where you might be better suited, or called? When the meaningless things of this world become far greater and pressure you into fear, disillusionment, doubt, or things even worse?

I want to live everyday filled to the brim with this unimaginable love. I want to be poured into and onto until it hurts to hold it in. And that is frightening in a very real way. Because I have no idea how to do this, and I have no idea what my reaction might be if I could let myself be loved like that.

But it seems right. God just has to be up there right now singing that song to us...

"How I love you. Oh, how I love you. Oh, how I love you. How...I...love...you."

Nothing seems right without that. Everything fades, but that light refuses to be quenched.

God, how I hope.