Instead let me address the thread title, that Jesus loves you, from the very valid angle of Glass Soul saying she doesn't think so. She has given ample and sincere reasons to think and feel like that.
YouTube - ‪Who Am I - Casting Crowns‬‎
Lyrics are there, sorry I can't cut and paste them so you have to watch the vid. I wrote them all out to create my cheat sheet for this tune but my puter crashed since then, gotta go practice ...
I think this song says it rather well!
Thank you Zeena. It would be interesting to also see how much time this student of Gamaliel had spent in Jerusalem from childhood to seeing the Lord, as the Bible is completely silent on all of that. Jane, the song expressly did NOT address you in the least, but does directly address Glass Soul, as I stated. And I never insulted you. You've simply chosen to argue for it's own sake, w/o any basis.
I've been debating with myself as to whether I should reply to the song you posted in address to me. Sometimes when someone posts a song, or a picture, or a poem, or such it is simply meant as a picture of how something
feels--an expression of what otherwise might seem ineffable. It doesn't seem quite right to debate a gesture of that nature. One simply says thank you.
So, thank you for posting the song.
I have decided, however, that the words to the song deserve, or even demand debate. Moreover, I have concluded that you would probably not mind the content of the debate and so I will go ahead.
Who am I
That the lord of all the earth
Would care to know my name
Would care to feel my hurt
Who am I
That the bright and morning star
Would choose to light the way
For my ever wandering heart
Not because of who I am
But because of what you've done
Not because of what I've done
But because of who you are
I am a flower quickly fading
Here today and gone tomorrow
A wave tossed in the ocean
A vapor in the wind...
I am yours.
That isn't all the words, but what I've left out does not add to or change the message of the song.
A relationship that is entirely one sided, in which one of the persons is entirely without merit beyond that which the other condescends to impute by the nature of
his person, does not go to what I would define as love. If I use the term "love" in that way, I lose its use for those relationships which are based on voluntary mutuality--mutual respect and generosity toward one another being of primary importance. (It might create a footnote to what I am saying here to point out that I have developed this definition out of my study of the gospel of Jesus.)
The analogies of flower, wave and vapor fall short of a crucial element needed in a loving relationship in that they are not capable of voluntary mutuality. Human beings, however small and fleeting our existences may be,
are self aware and thus can be with one another another in a way unique to such beings. If there
is a being to whom we can direct only flattery and self deprecation, then we are reduced to simply existing beside that being. The being-with that love (as I would define it) demands must have an element of voluntary mutuality (as opposed to mere symbiosis) or it ceases to be.
There are those who imagine a God who grows along with us, learning from us what it is to be a moral being (as Jung suggested, beings who because of their puniness, helplessness, and defenselessness are forced into self-reflection). As a non-theist, I believe that the figure of the Son of Man that Ezekiel glimpsed on the sapphire throne is and always has been a projection of our own natures. The projection enjoys more or less consciousness as we ourselves learn to or fail to reflect upon the human experience. I hope that the more conscious it becomes in mankind as a whole the more aware we will become that we are seeing a reflection of ourselves, and the less evil we will do in its name and
in our own.
Over time, I have come to suspect that Jesus grokked that the surest route to the fullest possible consciousness of the being on the throne is to treat one another with the very mutuality (of respect and generosity) I have mentioned above, and that the identity of the figure on the throne will be made manifest most quickly and efficiently when we nurture this mutuality with the least amongst us: the poorest, the most helpless, the most damaged. As Matthew 25 states, when we do this we find that they are mystically Christ. It is Christ to give and it is Christ to be in need. The concept creates a circle of mutual respect and generosity.
He seems to have thought he could prompt this awareness to such a degree,
in one generation, in one place, and within the framework of the standing religion, that it would culminate in a nationwide mystical experience in which the Son of Man would arrive as from heaven, as if with angels. That the curtain would radically be torn between ourselves as ourselves and ourselves as projected as Deity. That the identity of the one on the sapphire throne would be fully and forever revealed.
Tragically he was wrong. I suspect, in reading his story, that his sense of himself, of his powers as a leader, of his ability to address the depths of need in the crush of the crowds that came to surround him, of his invulnerability to the powers that be, were too grandiose.
Would he have loved me? I would have been a faceless statistic in the sea of humanity that threatened to crush him physically, and one suspects, spiritually. He was a man with a man's limited ability to love each and every one who surrounded him. In theory he would have
wanted to have loved me and
would have wanted to find himself responding to me in like kind if I had reached out to him in such a way as to have have closed that circle of mutuality. I think. His seeming coldness to John the Baptist's plight worries me a little...
After piling up such a weight of faith over 40-some years, I want to give him the benefit of doubt on that count. I think it is better though to plainly doubt. I think it is, for me, a part of the processes of uncovering the deity. That's a good thing. I chose to doubt.
As for the Jesus sometimes created by the church at its most monstrous and by those caught up in the gears of that grinding monstrosity? It does not love me. It's not even human. I try to stay out of its way. The persons caught in the gears of that machine are a different matter, and if I can find a chink in the workings of the monster big enough for a little mutual respect to pass between, that makes me particularly happy. I hope that if they have the eyes to see the true nature of whatever machines have been invisibly working me that they will do the same.