I’ve always shied away from the call-and-response chorus attached to the familiar hymn “Oh, How I Love Jesus.”
“Oh, Joi, do you love Jesus? / Are you sure you love Jesus? / And why do you love Jesus?”
Not only is it incredibly embarrassing to croak out a response all alone against a mob of excited songsters, but perhaps even more so, the practice of vocalizing why I love Jesusmakes me feel exposed. Do I actually have a reason to love Jesus?
For most of my life I did not see much similarity between my plain personal testimony and the more oft-repeated dramatic narratives we enjoy hearing. I was pretty sure my experience was a far cry from Paul’s and the other Saul-to-Paul-esque stories during which one meets Jesus and their world flips right side up.
Or was it?
Oh, Friend, Do You Love Jesus?
A few years ago I came to the realization that my underwhelming testimony was more similar to Paul’s testimony than I had previously conceived. While on the surface my transformation did not convert me from Christian murderer to Christian minister, it came to me that we both, ironically, were good church kids before we found Christ.
Just like Paul, I grew up in church. Well, he grew up in synagogue. But the point is, I am your basic Sabbath School-going, Your Story Hour-listening, carob chip-eating good girl. Being that I stayed in church over the years, I assumed I loved Jesus. But why?
We often seek out the “point” or event that flipped the reality in one’s existence. We’re impressed by the power of exaggerated change. But what of those of us who never left the church? What if, instead of isolated points, our stories formed a positive linear trajectory? What if I am constantly converting rather than being once converted? Mine is a simple, yet perhaps understated, story of an Adventist girl.
Oh, Yes! I Love Jesus!
When my sister and other young church friends signaled their decision to give their lives to Jesus, my hand also went up! Not yet in the double digits, I was all aboard. Jesus and His love were familiar themes in my young life. I was born into a loving Adventist family who made it their mission to teach me the story of Jesus and of my value to Him. They raised me deeply connected to the Word, worshipping, teaching, and living it out in daily life. For this foundation I am extremely grateful.
Sometimes, however, being raised in such a wonderful environment can make it easy to take the knowledge and exposure to Christ at an early age for granted. I was an easygoing, fun-loving child who simply went along with what I knew. So, baptized I was. Coming up out of the murky Cohutta Springs lake, I had hardly more than a muddled vision of what it meant to choose a life with Jesus. But Jesus knew. And even when I was at that tender age, He began winning my heart.
Hyperfixating on myself, I was becoming afraid of God.
I continued to grow. I did the normal Adventist things–read my Bible daily, became a Pathfinder. I helped in Sabbath School and got involved in youth ministry. As I moved from childhood to my teenage years, my conscience became more tender, and a deep desire for righteousness took root in my heart.
What started as a sensitivity toward right and against wrong gradually spiraled into a constantly guilty conscience. I became very afraid of doing wrong, wrestling at night over potential unconfessed sins. Anxiety over how far off I must be from the standard of righteousness filled me. I scrutinized my recreational activities, my wardrobe choices—everything. I began looking to those around me to draw out the standard for Christianity that I should be modeling my life after. And through all of this I was most determined to overcome guilt in my pursuit of an upward trajectory toward perfection.
Paul, in Philippians 3, describes his early life similarly:
“If anyone else thinks he has reason for confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless” (Phil. 3:4-6, ESV).
Squeaky clean, Paul had everything nicely in order to reach perfection. Subconsciously I began arranging my own perfect Adventist curriculum vitae too.
I’m [Un]Sure I Love Jesus . . .
As I matured in my choice to follow Jesus and simultaneously grew more and more into the person that wanted to always “do things right,” perfectionism became my religion of choice. It felt safe, achievable, and structured.Yet I had swapped in fear for Jesus. I was constantly apologizing, afraid that one unknown or unrepented sin would separate me from Him—or rather my own imagined picture of Him. My unrelenting journey toward perfectionism evolved into an insurmountable mountain, obscuring the God of peace my heart longed for.
I left my Adventist home to attend an Adventist college, where, not only did perfectionism drive me to excel in my academic pursuits, but also I continued to build out my Adventist CV. I got involved in many ministries on campus, canvassed for a summer, and worked at camp during another. Though I was engaged in these ministries out of a heart of love for Jesus and excitement to serve Him, unconsciously I was also trying to impress Jesus with my rightdoing. If Jesus wanted a wholesome Adventist, I was the one for the job.
If others have reason for confidence in their own efforts, I have more. I was born into a Christian home—better yet, I’m a fourth-generation Adventist. I was dedicated as an infant and baptized before the age of 10. I was homeschooled, ate a plant-based diet, and had read through the whole Conflict of the Ages series before the end of high school. I participated in all things Adventist: from Pathfinders, to Youth Rush, to summer camp. I was taught to have devotions daily, was very strict when it came to health reform, and dress reform, and any other reforms you can think up. I knew how to use a concordance just as well as a dictionary, and could get excited about S. N. Haskell right alongside a seminarian. I was so zealous for right and afraid of wrong that I regularly kept account of my sins and shortcomings. I was highly conscientious. If righteousness, right standing with God, came from right works, I definitely gave it my best shot.
Despite all this, I was, nonetheless, burdened with the guilt that I wasn’t doing enough and the fear that I was dishonoring God in some way. Hyperfixating on myself, I was becoming afraid of God.
Years of wrestling with the billowing thoughts in the depths of my conscience, desperately trying to anchor myself to perfectionism in hopes that it was my lifeline to salvation, I failed to realize that perfectionism was rather a weight that was only drowning me in guilt—pulling me under, and away from Jesus. One day, out of the blue, as I was reading through the book of Philippians, I came across Paul’s summarized testimony. It stunned me. I had somehow missed this chapter in the Bible all my life. Here Paul records all these things he did right, yet follows it with “But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ” (Phil. 3:7, KJV). How was it that these good things and Christ were mutually exclusive? I thought I needed both—I thought I had both. This passage shook me to the core. I had clearly missed a big boat: the true ark of safety.
Here’s Why I Love Jesus
Taking a step back, I realized I had placed my confidence in good things rather than in Jesus Himself. I had relied on my own morality and efforts to gain righteousness. But righteousness comes through faith in Christ.
“And be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith”(Phil. 3:9, NIV).
For years I had tried to “give up” my sins but found no victory. Every time I attempted to let go, rage metastasized within me. Why? Because I was trying to be my own inept surgeon, instead of showing up helpless to the operating room and allowing the skilled Surgeon to anesthetize my soul with His love and remove and heal all my deficiencies. I finally found peace when I saw Jesus as both the end and the means, the standard of holiness and the one who makes me holy; when I realized that I am not grasping to reach an impossible standard but giving myself to Jesus, so that through Him, the standard is met; when I saw that true goodness can be found only in Him and that by my resting in Him and choosing to be covered by His righteousness, long-term guilt and anxiety are removed. I have peace with God. This is faith.
I love Jesus because He first loved me.
I love Jesus because my lame perfectionism in juxtaposition to His perfect righteousness is futile.
I love Jesus because His righteousness becomes mine as I rest, daily surrendering myself by faith to Him.
Paul says it best:
“I once thought these things were valuable, but now I consider them worthless because of what Christ has done. Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For His sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ and become one with him. I no longer count on my own righteousness through obeying the law; rather, I become righteous through faith in Christ. For God’s way of making us right with himself depends on faith” (Phil. 3:7-9, NLT).*
As a now grown-up Adventist girl, walking with Jesus has a new and truly positive trajectory. It still takes time to deconstruct and reject old ways of thinking, but God has been kind to me. As a recovering perfectionist, I know that as long as I value my own works, I lose Jesus. But when I surrender to Jesus, He daily converts and reconverts my heart, giving me rest, peace, and His righteousness.
And that’s the reason we all ought to love Him!
* Scripture quotations marked NLT are from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.