The love that changes everything.
I had been in bed, depressed, for six months—convinced I had missed my chance to serve God in the meaningful way He had once invited me into. Other than school and work, the only place I went was church on Sunday nights, because some part of me still believed He might speak again, and that He would do it there. One night, overwhelmed and exhausted, I tried to slip out of the service early. But God stopped me—not with many words, just a firm no, stay. So I stayed, frustrated and bitter. When the worship team began their last song, “Come Away With Me,” I started to sing along. After a moment, the worship leader’s voice disappeared, and another voice filled my ear. No one was standing beside me—I had isolated myself in the room—but it was unmistakably Him. HE was singing to me. HE was inviting me. “Come away with Me,” over and over again—gentle, patient, unhurried. Then He asked, “Are you ready to go?” And all I could say was, “Not yet.” He didn’t withdraw. He didn’t pressure me. He simply said okay and kept singing. That night changed everything. His love in that moment became the catalyst for every healing thing that followed.
Scripture describes this love as something that “surpasses knowledge” (Ephesians 3:19), meaning it is not merely understood intellectually—it is encountered in the deepest parts of our being.
And I believe if we truly received this love, our mental health, our Sabbath rest, and our communal life would not simply improve—they would be theologically reordered. They were for me.
And that reordering helped me see how God’s love reframes both our inner world and our Sabbath practice, drawing our mental health and our rest back into alignment with Him.
Becoming Rooted in Belovedness
When we truly understand God’s love, it becomes the anchor of our identity. In Christ, we are named “beloved” (Colossians 3:12; Romans 1:7), “chosen” (Ephesians 1:4), and “held” (Isaiah 41:10). These aren’t poetic metaphors but actual theological realities. When our identity is rooted in God’s unwavering affection rather than in performance or public perception, our mental health becomes far less fragile—the self is no longer something we anxiously construct, but something God lovingly declares.
As that love takes root, fear begins to lose its dominion. Scripture reminds us that “perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18), and fear is displaced not by willpower but by the indwelling presence of divine love. When His love saturates our inner life, anxiety no longer gets the final word. And where fear once ruled, shame is met with grace instead of condemnation. Romans 8:1 assures us there is “no condemnation” for those in Christ; this is not just legal language but deeply healing language. God’s love reframes our story, replacing shame with mercy and self‑loathing with compassion. Theologically, His love is not sentimental but restorative—it rewrites the internal narratives that so often distort our mental wellbeing.
Resting in the God Who Delights in Us
If our identity is shaped by God’s love, then our rhythms must be shaped by that love too. Those who believe God is harsh or exacting will always struggle to rest, but those who trust that God is loving can finally breathe. Sabbath begins with God’s delight; before He ever commands Israel to rest, He reminds them that He is the God who rescued them (Deuteronomy 5:15). Sabbath is grounded in deliverance, not duty—a weekly invitation to remember that God’s love comes before our work.
And this rest is more than the absence of activity; it is communion with the God who loves us. Sabbath is the day we intentionally step out of striving and step into belovedness, mirroring the posture Jesus modeled when He withdrew simply to be with the Father (Mark 1:35). When God’s love becomes our foundation, Sabbath stops feeling like an obligation and instead becomes a quiet homecoming.
The Father is very fond of you
In Reflections for Ragamuffins, Brennan Manning wrote the following: “If the question were put to you, “Do you honestly believe that God likes you?”—not loves you, because theologically he must—how would you answer? God loves by necessity of his nature; without the eternal, interior generation of love, he would cease to be God. But if you could answer, “The Father is very fond of me,” there would come a relaxedness, a serenity and a compassionate attitude toward yourself that is a reflection of God’s own tenderness.” This echoes Paul’s prayer in Ephesians 3, where he longs for the church to grasp the vastness of Christ’s love in a way that transforms their inner life. Paul isn’t content with a surface‑level acknowledgment of being loved; he envisions a love that sinks into the marrow, reshaping how we relate to ourselves, to others, and to God. His message is the same truth Manning names so simply: God is very fond of you. And when that truth is allowed to take root, it moves outward from our core and changes everything.
“For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name. I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.”
~ Ephesians 3:14-19
This statement from Paul—this prayer—is mine for you this week. I pray that you would understand how deeply God loves you, and I pray that this truth would change everything.
