I was in His mind before the world was made. I was in His mind, before the plans were laid. I was in His mind, before He came for me. These words are from a song my sister and her friends wrote over 40 years ago.
Knowing I was in Jesus’ mind makes Good Friday and this weekend awaiting resurrection so amazing.
Jesus knew me, little old me born at the end of the 1950s. Who would grow up in a small town in the middle of New Jersey. Who would live around the country. Who would marry an amazing man named Jerry. Who would love and work with people with disabilities.
I was in His mind even though He knew I was someone who would sometimes say something wrong and offend someone. Who would look so often for satisfaction in something other than Christ. Who would forget life is not about me and put my own desires and needs first. Who would say I want to glorify God, yet still hope others would notice me too. Who would miss or overlook opportunities to speak His truth to others, because I feared what they would think of me.
His knowledge of me included knowing I was one who would carry a grudge because someone said something wrong or didn’t live the way they spoke. Who would seek the praise of others rather than the praise of my God. Who would say one thing and do another, who would use my resources in ways I wanted to. Who would waste some of the precious commodity of every breath and minute He gave me. Who would misapply His words. Who would avoid sometimes seeking His face and will. Who would argue with his timing. Who would . . .
Yet knowing all this, and so much more—He had me in His mind when He created the world. When He came as a baby. When He willingly endured the cruelty, the mocking, the abuse, the slander, the jabs and spits, the agony. When He drug that rough cut tree on his bloody and battered body, up the hill to Golgotha knowing it was His last hours as Son of Man and soon He would be separated from His Dad. When He carried my guilt so I would not die for my sins. When with great grief, separated from His Father for a time, He was crushed beneath the weight of my guilt.
Again, for who?
For me, the one who would never fully understand the reality and depth of the love that drove Him. One who would sing worship songs and read the Scriptures without the words truly penetrating my heart. One who would confess the same sin over and over before finally allowing His Spirit to gain control of that area. One who He created and loved as if I were the only one who mattered.
Thank you, thank you, thank you my God, my Lord, my Savior for having me in your mind . . . because You love me.
Thank you for that terrible and wonderful cross, and the power it still holds 2000 years later!
Oh, and in case you missed it – He had you in mind too!