…love at first sight

I never believed in love at first sight. (Sure, when I first saw my wife I thought she was cute. That’s not love, that’s common sense.) Really, I applied my skepticism to everything – pizzas, experiences, girls. I definitely believed in “appreciate at first sight,” because I absolutely saw some pizzas and thought, “Man, that looks like good pizza.” Love comes with time; with experience. Did I suspect I might love riding a jetski? Of course. I didn’t know I loved it until I tried it. Now, if I walk out on the dock with the jetski’s reflection shimmering back against the still water in the first light of a new day, I feel it down to my bones – “I love this.”

I never believed in love at first sight, until February 10, 2021. When our daughter finally made her entrance into the world, I felt that jetski-on-a-quiet-morning feeling in my bones, only deeper. When I felt her head rest helplessly in my hand, I didn’t feel powerful, I felt purposeful. I looked at her – all 21.5 inches of her – and suddenly believed in love at first sight. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever believed in anything more.

With one glance, I knew I loved her. I knew it wasn’t the jetski kind of love or the cheesy pan pizza kind of love. It’s deeper; more all-encompassing. I love her more than anything, in a way. I love my wife more overall – I chose her out of all the people and life plans, and I choose her over and over. Our daughter is a different kind of love; it’s a love I’ve always felt for her. I loved Melia at first sight.

In hindsight, I realized maybe I felt a hint of this “love-at-first-sight” thing before. A few years ago, we spent a week in Haiti with our church. One of the days included a trip to the local orphanage, where every member of the team paired up with a child and just spent time doing whatever they wanted to do. I cautiously walked into the dark dormitory and scooped up a young girl from her crib. She was maybe a year and a half old, and she clearly did not expect to enjoy our time together. She quietly ate her porridge as I spooned it into her mouth, her hand clinging to the sleeve of my shirt. We paced the compound for a few hours, watching the other girls and boys play on the playground or toss a ball around. At one point, the little girl reached up to grab a seed from the tree above us, and she held onto the seed as if it were made of gold. When we wandered to the second story of the building, she gleefully tossed the seed off the balcony with a little squeal. Suddenly I realized we found something she loved – it was her jetski-in-the-morning feeling. We retrieved the seed from down below and brought it back to the balcony to toss it again, and again, and again. Every squeal gave us both so much joy. My heart felt fuller than I ever expected.

When we left the compound in the rearview mirror, my heart suddenly dropped to my feet. I felt absolutely crushed leaving the orphanage, knowing the girl I just spent hours getting to smile was probably sitting in her crib feeling confused about being left alone again. I turned to my wife and told her I would have adopted that little girl if we could; I didn’t care about the paperwork, the money, or the hurdles we would have for the rest of our lives – if it had been possible to adopt her, I would have. All I wanted was to let her know I cared and I would be there for her and I would never give her away; I wanted to let her know she was loved.

I still think about the girl from the orphanage fairly often, and I still wish I had done more to find out if we could have adopted her. Now, as I hold my own little girl in my arms, I know why – I loved her. I saw the hurt in her eyes and felt the mistrust in her grip; the overworked staff took care of her, she just didn’t have anyone who held her close and proved it would be okay. I felt it deep in my bones then, and now I feel it every single day – it’s love.

It’s a sacrificial, no-questions-asked kind of love. I would do anything for my daughter; I’d die a thousand times before I let someone hurt her. If it took every minute, every cent, or every breath I have to show her I love her, I would do it. I wouldn’t think twice, either. Since the moment I first saw her, I loved her like this.

There’s a bigger love, though. This Easter, it hit me deeper than ever before. The love I feel for my daughter is because I’m her dad. It’s fatherly love – this absolute, whatever-it-takes love. Reading the Bible with fresh perspective, the fatherly love is all over the place. God the Father loves His son, Jesus. The Father loves Jesus so much, he created us to experience the same love; real love is contagious. Then, when we messed up the plan, God came up with the solution.

God could trade His son to save me. It was the only option – God demands righteousness, and we’re far from it. Jesus, being the begotten son of God – meaning He was fully God in his essence – could live the life we were supposed to live. Jesus could live a righteous human life, and then he would be worthy to spend eternity with God the Father. Or, he could trade places with us, let us spend eternity with the Father, and die the death we deserve.

This wasn’t an idea Jesus suggested. This was the Father’s plan – to trade His son for me. I can’t imagine… I would take a bullet or blade or train to the face for my daughter. I would go so far out of my way to keep her safe, because I love her. God the Father loved Jesus just as much – only better. He loved Jesus, and I can’t help but imagine He wanted to keep him safe and show him off and be proud of who he was.

Yet God loved me, too.

Like the little girl in the orphanage, God looked at helpless, broken me and said, “I want to show him he’s loved.” Unlike me, God had the power to do actually something about it, so He did. He sacrificed His son because He loves me with fatherly love.

Thankfully, God had the power to change the story, too. After three days, God brought His son back to life – the sin debt paid, the vengeance satiated. God had to punish our wrongdoing, so Jesus took our sins upon himself to take the punishment in our place. Then God the Father redeemed Jesus – He brought new life to what had died. Your debt – it’s paid. It’s up to you to choose how you want eternity to look.

When I first saw my daughter, I believed in love at first sight. I love every ounce of her with every fiber of my being. I feel it deep in my bones, and I’m so grateful God looks at me and feels the same way.

 

TL;DR – God loves you, more than you can ever know. He loves you with immeasurable hope you will love Him, too.