No One Ever Cared for Me Like Jesus

This song lyric popped into my head as I was distracting myself during a medical exam. The dim room with a low, pleasant puhhhrrr almost convinced my brain I was getting a massage instead of an invasive test. Almost.

“No one ever cared for me like Jesus.”

Staring at the ceiling tiles, I lay there thinking about various people in my life. I wondered if I ever danced across their thoughts. I wondered if they prayed for me, laughed at a treasured memory, or missed me.

It’s a weird thought when you just had your 47th birthday, sounding more like an insecure pre-teen.

But Satan knows where to zing us. Relationships are so important to me (all of us, if we admit it). Most of my life, friendships came easily. I accepted the ebbs and flows of new and old friends coming in and out of our lives.

Entering my 40s, I finally felt like myself. A freedom of sorts, more certain who God made me to be. But, unexpectedly, friendships seem more difficult in this decade.

In that exam room, as I head-hummed “no one ever cared for me like Jesus,” my heart quieted. It didn’t matter how well or how often others care for me.

Thoughts about myself turned to the reliability of my God.

The Creator of the universe loves me.

The Sustainer of my soul hears me.

The Redeemer of all things uses

my insecurities to point my mind

back to Him, accept His peace,

and give Him glory.

Nothing can fill our needs like Jesus, even the good gifts from Him. Friendships. Marriage. Children. Security. Community. A career. A passion. A ministry, vacation, or gorgeous sunset.

These things matter, yes, but they are not ultimate. Easily, they become idols instead of good gifts rightly ordered.

God assures us how much He thinks about his children — precious thoughts more than the grains of sand (Psalm 139:17-18).

We were remembered all the way to the cross. Jesus prays for us at the right hand of the Father. He will return to restore all things. We are not forgotten.

This morning, I woke up to a message from a friend. She couldn’t sleep, so she sent me a Marco Polo to tell me she was praying for me. She didn’t know I was having these doubts, but God did.

No one cares for me, or you, like Jesus.