“Jesus loves me! This I know…”
I remember singing those words when my sisters and I played Sunday school beneath the large maple tree in front of our house. We would drag out the old school desks Mom had bought at a yard sale down under the tree, and I, of course, was the teacher. This position was not open for discussion.
We sang “Jesus Loves Me,” “Jesus Loves the Little Children,” and “This Little Light of Mine.” Then I would tell my sisters how much Jesus loved us, with all the fervor of a preacher on fire, minus the hellfire and brimstone. I had a congregation of sisters to keep in their seats.
Then we grew up!
The words we sang beneath that maple tree had to meet us in the life that followed with its disappointments, losses, regrets, and prayers whose answers we never understood or never seemed answered. Sometimes that familiar song becomes a quiet question: Jesus loves me? How do I know?
When life is going well, His love may seem easier to recognize. Everything is going great. An impressive career, a beautiful family, lovely home and surrounded by the people we love. We thank Him for those gifts, as we should. But when life is not going well, when a marriage fails, a job is lost, or an unexpected illness leaves us feeling as though our foundation is crumbling, we may look at someone else’s life and wonder why theirs seems easier than ours. We think The Lord has certainly blessed them. Without realizing it, we begin using our circumstances to measure God’s love. Followed by the question: Lord, if You love me, why did You let this happen? That question deserves tenderness. We knew Christians suffered. We just hoped, without saying it, that His love would spare us this particular sorrow.
David understood that distress. “How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever?” he prayed (Psalm 13:1, NKJV). He brought his anguish to the very God whose care he was struggling to understand. We can, too.
But how do we know we are loved when we cannot feel His nearness? The song gives us a place to begin: “For the Bible tells me so.” And Scripture tells us, “But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8, NKJV).
Jesus knew our sin, our weakness, and our need for forgiveness. He willingly gave Himself to reconcile us to God. When our circumstances leave us questioning His love, the cross gives us somewhere dependable to look. And Jesus promises, “The one who comes to Me I will by no means cast out” (John 6:37, NKJV). We can come with tears, tough questions, and faith that feels terribly small.
In Romans 8:31–39, Paul reminds us that believers may face trouble, hunger, danger, and even death. All we need to do is turn on the nightly news and hear of the suffering throughout the world. We can be deeply loved and still suffer deeply. Yet none of those things can separate us from God’s love in Christ. That does not explain every loss or take away the ache of grief. It assures us that suffering has not placed us beyond His care. The Savior who died and rose again is still interceding for His people (Romans 8:34). And because He lives, suffering and death will not have the final word.
So, when your heart asks, Lord, do You still love me? tell Him what has made His love difficult to believe. Read Romans 8:31–39 slowly, noticing what God has done through Christ and what He promises His people. Ask a trusted believer to listen and pray with you. You do not have to carry this struggle alone. And when comparison slips in, remember: someone else’s comfort does not mean they are more loved, and your suffering does not mean you are less loved.
I have lived more of life now than I have left. Looking back, I can say that I know Jesus loves me. There are still things I do not understand. But through these years, I have come to know more deeply the Savior I told my sisters about beneath that maple tree.
“Jesus loves me, this I know.” I sang it as a little girl. Today, those words carry the weight of a life lived and the assurance that His love has held through it. Perhaps you are finding them difficult to believe right now. Bring that to Him, too. His invitation to come still stands.
Lord Jesus, thank You for loving us through every season of life. When sorrow makes Your love difficult to see, help us trust what You have shown us at the cross. Give us grace to come honestly, receive Your care, and walk gently beside others who are hurting. In Jesus’ name, Amen.