I’M IN LOVEEEEEEE
Last week, one of my clients shared how exhausted she felt listening to her mother complain about the same thing over and over. Before I could respond, she laughed and said, “Wait, I guess that’s what you do every day. I don’t know how you’re not tired.”
“I think it’s made me a lot more compassionate,” I told her. “In everyday life, I only get a glimpse of people. But in therapy, I see the wrestling—the grief of missing the mark and the difficulty of change.”
We bounced around a few topics before she landed on her fear of disappointing me. Early in my career, I would’ve taken that personally, blamed myself, reassured her, and tried to fix it. But this time, I recognized it for what it was: the same themes playing out in her other relationships, now unfolding in real time.
How does the fear of disappointing me affect our relationship?
That’s the question I should’ve asked—one I’m only now realizing as I write. But more than that, it’s the question I’ve been asking myself in my relationship with God since our session.
There’s a scripture that says, “Man looks at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart.” As a counselor, I have this unique experience to see God and to see people.
The 32-year-old husband who is stuck in a cycle of infidelity and verbal abuse.
The 59-year-old woman who can’t stick to any of her goals and screams at her kids.
The 14-year-old who lies and sneaks.
The 7-year-old who is explosive and disrespectful.
They aren’t disappointing to me. Some are broken, others traumatized, all of them molded by the imperfect people and situations that have shaped them. It isn’t to excuse their poor behavior or to even explain it. But, I don’t just see the “bad” things they do. I see defeated and lonely and lost people.
And so then it makes me wonder, is that what God sees when He looks at all of us? He has His standard, I’m not arguing that. There are consequences to disobedience, I am aware of that. But, if God looked at us and only saw evil, only saw failure—How could He love us? If He believed we were disappointing losers that would suck forever, how could He send His son to die for us?
And if we are commanded to love God and to love our neighbor, it seems like understanding how God can love us is the first step to all of it.
“For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.” colossians 1:13-14 [niv]
In therapy spaces, there’s a term—unconditional positive regard. It’s a concept central to Carl Rogers’ theory, urging the therapist to embody acceptance, respect, care, and non-judgment as a foundation for the therapeutic relationship.
It sounds pretty basic, right? Like the kind of thing anyone would freely give in a healthy relationship.
But let’s say my niece tells me she’s tired of praying to a God who watches people suffer and does nothing. Or let’s say I have a client who tells me they think they’re attracted to children.
To my niece, I’d want to defend God, encourage her, quote scripture, maybe offer a reassuring truth. To my client, I’d want to keep them away from children. I might even recoil inwardly.
But if I were truly practicing unconditional positive regard, to my niece, I might say,
“That must be painful—calling out to a Father and hearing silence.”
To my client, I might say,
“What a foreign, confusing, and frightening desire.”
Acceptance doesn’t mean agreement. Non-judgment doesn’t mean you cosign. And respect has nothing to do with admiration, but acknowledgement—the recognition that the thoughts and feelings of every single person are theirs. It’s taking a step back and realizing that I am not the standard or the marker. My niece, who is wrestling with her faith, and my client, who is grappling with sexual perversion, were both created by God. Intimately known by God. He died for them. And, if they were to say to Him what they said to me, would He defend Himself against my niece? Would He call my client disgusting and sick and turn him away? Carl Rogers calls it unconditional positive regard— but scripture tells us if we make our bed in hell, He is there. Scripture tells us that He hears our cries and that He is moved with compassion by our pain and suffering. And, the more I think about it, unconditional positive regard sounds a lot like love.
“What is man that You are mindful of him, And the son of man that You visit him? Psalms 8:4 [nkjv]
Circling back to the initial question—how does my fear of disappointing God affect our relationship? I came up with a few things.
First, there’s no freedom. Every opportunity to love, to be gracious, to share truth in love—things I believe God places in my path—becomes sullied by anxiety and dread. I’m so afraid of doing it wrong. How can I hear the voice of God if I’m constantly holding my breath for correction, assuming that every time He speaks, it will be to tell me I’ve failed?
Second, I don’t receive the full inheritance that comes with being His. Peace that surpasses all understanding. Wisdom that confounds the wise. Easy burdens and light yokes. The fruit of the Spirit. These are all promises and byproducts of walking with Him. But instead of receiving them, I try to manufacture them on my own—hoping that if I get it right, He’ll love me more. Or be less likely to walk away from me.
Lastly, I keep myself from being perfected in His love. He loved me first. He called out to me and died for me. I didn’t ask Him or find Him on my own, I wouldn’t even know where to look or what He sounded like. He did it all and has freed me from every sin I have and will ever commit. He chose me—and continues to choose me. But my fear of being a disappointment to Him keeps me from knowing that love, from experiencing what might be God’s version of unconditional positive regard. And, if I am not perfected in His love, how can I love Him or myself? And how can I love other people?
I landed on 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 [NIV]
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
What does this mean?
God loves us. He is patient with us. Our unpredictable thoughts and feelings, our habit of turning to idols, and our short memory of His goodness are included in that. He is kind and thoughtful towards us. He is not prideful towards us when we make a mistake. He isn’t eager to punish and judge us.
God really loves us. He isn’t self-seeking—meaning He is always thinking of us, always considering us. He is not easily angered or frustrated by us. He doesn’t judge us or keep count of our mistakes. He always protects us, always sees the best in us, always hopes—no matter what it looks like—and always endures with us.
God really really really loves us. We didn’t help Him in loving us because He loved us first. We didn’t have to ask, beg, or perform. Love is what draws us to Him in the first place. It is what removes the scales from our eyes. We cannot make Him love us because He decided that all on His own before we ever knew Him.
1 John 4:18-19 [AMP]
“There is no fear in love [dread does not exist]. But perfect (complete, full-grown) love drives out fear, because fear involves [the expectation of divine] punishment, so the one who is afraid [of God’s judgment] is not perfected in love [has not grown into a sufficient understanding of God’s love]. We love, because He first loved us.”
There is no reason for fear in our relationship with God. We have already learned that God is love. So, it is safe to say, there is no fear [dread] in God. There can be freedom and exploration, stumbling and mistakes, because the “good” we do is not payment for His love. We cannot manipulate God into loving us more. His love for us is fixed and eternal.
Punishment has already been taken care of. We don’t get punished for the sins we have and will commit in this lifetime. The punishment is hellfire, and Jesus canceled our trip to hell when He died for us. We get disciplined and corrected for disobedience. There are also natural consequences to poor decision-making, but that is not punishment.
Our level of fear in our relationship with God reveals our understanding of His love. Obedience and righteous behavior are a result of sanctification and submission to Christ. It has nothing to do with the reason God loves us. That doesn’t mean we should show our behinds, but if we try to work for love in our relationship with God, we will never truly know love or Him. If we do not know Him, we can’t love Him, ourselves, or others.
“If you [really] love Me, you will keep and obey My commandments.” john 14:15 [amp]
There isn’t a world, in any time or space, where working for God’s love is His plan for us. To be loved and known first is a humbling experience, to say the least. When we get caught up in the pride of it all, we can lose sight of the point—His point. He could have hidden Himself, but He didn’t. He could have waited until we were “good” to deal with us, but that’s not what happened. He could have made obedience a prerequisite for approaching His throne, but instead, He made accepting the gift of salvation—the manifestation of His heart toward us—the only thing we had to do. I’m not saying we get to live however we want because He loves us so much, but I am saying that understanding how deeply He loves you will change you. It leads you to say yes to the things He loves and no to things He hates. It teaches you to love the way He does—on purpose and free of any strings. We begin to care about His heart, in the same way He cares about ours. And obedience isn’t a play for His love, but an expression of our own.
He is all things patient and kind, humble and sacrificial, hopeful and enduring, intentional and forgiving. He is everything good. We become that by accepting that we can’t be that without Him. Furthermore, we love well when we know His love well.
So, my prayer for you and me is that we will know the love that casts out fear and makes us free.
