I can imagine a conversation between God and Satan about us, the human race. I dare not and will not speak for either of them, but I can imagine what might be said from viewpoints they could possibly entertain about us, from what I know about them in Scripture. And from what I know about us in general.
I can imagine Satan asking God, “Why do you care for them? What good are they? After all You have done for them, all You have given them, even bled for them and died, what use is it? Look at them! They are selfish, self-centered, egotistical, plotting, perverted, degenerates, reprobates, whining, complaining, bitter, dissatisfied, evil-speaking, conscienceless, merciless, stubborn haters, unloving (except themselves), pathetic, fragile nobodies encased in dirt thinking themselves to be impervious little gods. Why should You care???” (In fact, in most cases, this is all too true of us collectively, is it not?)
I can imagine God simply replying, “You wouldn’t understand; they’re my children.”
There is something about the love one has (or should have) for one’s children that cannot be fathomed nor explained. Sometimes it makes no sense at all. There is much more than an emotional attachment, something more than bequeathing another person our history, our DNA, our genes, and our name in the human relationship we share with our children. We are tempted to make excuses for them, to be supportive of them when they say and do truly stupid things; to be overly protective and dismiss their faults with often weak excuses. The bond we share with them can be very strong. We will fight for them and we will die for them. The first thing a parent thinks when they hear a tornado siren is something like: “Oh Lord! Where are my children; are they safe?!”
Perhaps the most overlooked passage in the entire Bible which depicts as well as anything God’s love for us, is when He said through Hosea, “My people are bent on backsliding from Me. Though they call to the Most High, none at all exalt Him. ‘How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over, Israel? How can I make you like Admah? How can I set you like Zeboiim? My heart churns within Me; My sympathy is stirred,’” (Hosea 11:7-8).
Jesus Christ echoed this sentiment as He looked upon the city of Jerusalem: “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the one who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing!” (Matthew 23:37). Jerusalem is a microcosm of God’s love for people everywhere. He is unwilling that any should perish, but all should come to eternal life through repentance (John 3:16; 2 Peter 3:9).
Love this strong, of this sort, will cover a “multitude of sins” (1 Peter 4:8); in fact, tons of them, over and over and over again. It is relentless. It never fails (1 Corinthians 13:8a).
I remember a movie where a woman was bemoaning her love for a scoundrel, a real godless, evil, sinful, man, and she carried his child. He had thrown her away after he learned she was pregnant. She confessed she still loved him and asked a woman who had taken her in if her helpless, hopeless, love for him was not the worst sin of them all. The lady with her gave the perfect answer: “Love is never a sin; only the lack of it.”
There is no limit to love (Galatians 5:22-23). It cannot be abused, wasted, overworked, or overdone. It simply is and always will be, for God is eternal, and He is love (1 John 4:8).
The next time you or I need a reason to love the unlovable, to pursue those who try to hide their tracks in the wastes of sin, who do not want our love or God’s either, whose lives are so mutilated by sin and godless living, whose faces and bodies betray their total immersion in drugs, alcohol, and fornication, and you are asked or imagine why as if the devil were doing the asking, “Why should you care?” the answer is simple: “Because God does.” Because He loves me, because I love Him and He lives within me, so will I.”
Never quit loving people. It is of God. He offers no explanation nor apology for it. Neither must we.