The gospel has a far better word for us than our fickle feelings: The Light of the world was snuffed; the Bread of life, broken; the King of kings, executed; the Lamb of God, slain; the Son of Man, tortured; the Son of God, forsaken; the Rock of ages, stricken; the blood of Christ, shed: Oh, how he loves me.

Class that day began so peacefully.

My university professor began the Christian Love and Marriage class with a “fun little assignment to get the creative juices flowing.”

The task was simple: Draw what you think of when you envision the love of God.

She went around and handed out crayons and blank sheets of paper for our project. We had fifteen minutes.

The first five I just sat there. How could I, who could barely draw straight lines for stickmen, draw the love of God?

As my peers joyfully scribbled away, I grabbed the black crayon. I still recall those next ten minutes of worship.

The alarm rang — time for show and tell. Each of us went around and shared our drawings, explaining why we drew what we did.

The first student unveiled her picture: a collage of lipstick red hearts, shiny bubbles, and a dozen or so smiley faces.

The second student revealed a unicorn galloping over a rainbow.

The third, a meadow with the sun shining down on laughing butterflies.

The fourth, a worn-out teddy bear.

As each explained their picture, one thing became obvious: despite my previous assumption, none was joking. All artists took their work seriously.

“God’s love makes me feel a kind of warmth inside,” explained one girl.

“Yeah, his love is magical, like the best dream you don’t want to wake up from,” added another.

“I just see a big bouquet of butterflies when I think about how God loves all of us.”

“I just feel a sense of home with God’s love, like I do when I remember my childhood teddy bear.”

I revealed my picture. My classmates were first shocked. Then confused. Then disgusted.

“That’s pretty barbaric of you,” said the first.

“I don’t think such a gory event should depict God’s love,” contributed the second.

“This is why some people don’t want to explore Christianity,” scolded the third.

In my drawing, a hill quaked. Lightning flashed. Darkness enveloped. Two dark crosses backdropped the third. My sore hand held up my nearly torn through artwork depicting my Savior dying on the cross for my sins.

“I believe this to be God’s own picture of his love,” I said.

God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8)

Fact or Feeling?

Notice what happened: When prompted to draw what each envisioned as the love of God, each drew what they felt when considering the love of God.

Instead of looking without themselves, they gazed within. The objective reality of God’s love for sinners was evidenced for them — not in the crushing and torture of the Son of God two thousand years ago — but was displayed in the fluttering sensations in their own hearts. How did they know God loved them? Their feelings told them so.

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