Have you ever noticed how easy it is to love Jesus, but how difficult it can sometimes be to feel the same way about God the Father?

When I read about Jesus welcoming little children, touching people with leprosy, forgiving those who had sinned, and weeping with grieving families, I see Someone I would love to know personally. He sounds approachable, gentle, patient, and kind.

But then I read some of the stories in the Old Testament, and I wonder whether His Father isn't quite the opposite.

Perhaps you've wondered about that, too. Is the Father just a mean old grouch and Jesus someone who is trying to keep Him happy?

Interestingly, one of Jesus' own disciples, after years of being with Jesus, seems to have struggled with understanding the Father.

One evening, shortly before His crucifixion, Jesus was talking with His disciples about His Father and the home He was preparing for them. He told them that if they really knew Him, they would know His Father as well.

Philip apparently didn't understand what Jesus meant. He wanted to see the Father for himself.

So he asked Jesus to show them the Father, telling Him that would be enough to satisfy them.

I wonder what Philip expected Jesus to do. Perhaps he imagined some wonderful revelation of God's glory, something like Moses had requested centuries earlier (Exodus 33:18).

But Jesus gave him an answer that I think is one of the most important statements in the entire Bible.

"Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father!" (John 14:9, NLT)

Think about what Jesus was telling Philip.

For more than three years, Philip had been watching Jesus interact with people. He had seen Him heal the sick, welcome children, feed the hungry, and show compassion to people others wanted nothing to do with.

And now Jesus was telling him that he had already been seeing what the Father was like.

That means when Jesus welcomed a sinner, He was showing us how His Father would welcome a sinner. When He touched someone everyone else avoided, He was showing us the Father's compassion. And when He wept beside the grave of Lazarus, He was revealing the Father's heart toward people who are hurting.

But perhaps the most beautiful picture of the Father came from a story Jesus told about a young man who wanted to leave home.

The young man dishonored his father by demanding his inheritance before his father had even died. Then he walked away from home and wasted everything he had been given. Eventually, hungry, ashamed, and desperate, he decided to return home. He did not expect to be treated as a son, but he hoped his father might at least allow him to work as a servant.

I wonder how he felt as he approached the house. He knew how badly he had treated his father. Perhaps he rehearsed his apology over and over, wondering whether he would even be allowed through the door.

But Jesus described something remarkable.

While the young man was still a long way from home, his father saw him coming, and instead of waiting for an explanation, the father ran to meet him, embraced him, and kissed him (Luke 15:20).

The son began confessing what he had done, but the father was already calling for the best robe, a ring, and a celebration. His son had come home!

Now think about something important.

Jesus was telling this story to help people understand what God is like.

The father in the story didn't need his son to persuade him to start loving him again. He had loved him all along. The young man was the one who had walked away, and the father was overjoyed that he had returned.

And that brings us to the cross.

Sometimes people imagine Jesus pleading with an angry Father to forgive us, as though Jesus loves us but His Father is reluctant to even let us live.

Yet Jesus Himself said that the Father loved the world so much that He gave His Son to save us (John 3:16). The Father wasn't persuaded to love us because Jesus died for us. He gave His Son because He already loved us.

Jesus willingly came because He shares that same love (John 10:17-18; 15:9).

So when I look at Jesus, I don't have to wonder whether His Father is less patient, less forgiving, or less interested in my salvation.

Jesus came to show me exactly what His Father is like.

And when I remember the father running down the road to embrace his returning son, I begin to understand something wonderful.

God isn't waiting for me to become someone He can love. He already loves me, and He wants me to come home. And the moment I turn towards Him, He comes running to meet me.

Have you ever done something you wish you could go back and undo? Something that changed your life and left you wondering whether God could ever use someone like you?

Maybe it wasn't something terrible by the world's standards. Perhaps you made a decision that hurt someone you loved, lost an opportunity you can never recover, or simply failed at something that mattered deeply to you.

And perhaps you've wondered whether God looks at you differently because of it.

I wonder if Moses ever felt that way.

When Moses was a young man, he believed he was doing something important for his people. Although he had grown up in Pharaoh's household, he knew he belonged to the Hebrews, who were suffering terribly as slaves in Egypt.

One day, Moses saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew slave. He looked around, apparently thinking no one was watching, and killed the Egyptian. Then he buried the body in the sand (Exodus 2:11–12).

But someone had seen what happened.

Moses fled for his life when he realized that Pharaoh had evidently learned about it. The man who had grown up in the royal palace of Egypt became a fugitive in the wilderness of Midian.

Imagine how different his life must have been.

He had once lived among royalty, surrounded by the privileges and opportunities of Egypt. Now he was living in a foreign land, tending sheep.

And that continued for forty years (Acts 7:29–30).

I wonder how often Moses thought about what had happened. Did he regret taking matters into his own hands? Did he wonder what his life might have been like if he had acted differently? Did he ever think God had forgotten him?

The Bible doesn't tell us everything Moses thought during those years. But what happened next tells us something wonderful about God.

One day, while Moses was tending his father-in-law's sheep near Mount Horeb, he noticed something extraordinary.

A bush was burning, but the flames weren't consuming it.

Curious, Moses approached to see what was happening.

And then he heard a voice calling his name.

"Moses! Moses!" (Exodus 3:4, NLT)

Think about that.

Forty years had passed since Moses fled Egypt. He was no longer a young man with a promising future in Pharaoh's household. He was an eighty-year-old shepherd living far from the land where he had grown up.

But God knew exactly where he was. And that amazes me when I think about who God is. The Bible tells us that He knows everything about us, including our thoughts and the things we haven't even found words to express (Psalm 139:1–4). His attention isn't limited the way mine is. He doesn't have to stop caring about one person in order to give His attention to another. The same God who was watching over an entire nation suffering in Egypt also knew exactly where one discouraged shepherd was tending sheep. And He cared about both.

He knew his name. He knew his history. He knew about the Egyptian Moses had killed and the years he had spent in the wilderness.

And God had come to speak with him anyway.

What happened next must have been almost impossible for Moses to believe.

God told him that He had seen the suffering of His people in Egypt. He had heard their cries, understood their pain, and was going to rescue them.

Then He told Moses something extraordinary. He wanted Moses to go to Pharaoh and lead the Israelites out of Egypt.

I wonder what Moses thought when he heard that.

Perhaps he remembered the man he had killed, the life he had abandoned, and the forty years he felt he had wasted while caring for sheep.

Whatever he was thinking, his first response revealed his uncertainty.

"Who am I to appear before Pharaoh? Who am I to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt?" (Exodus 3:11, NLT)

God's answer was remarkable.

He didn't remind Moses of his education, his royal upbringing, or the abilities he possessed. He didn't give him a long explanation of why he was qualified.

Instead, God promised that He would be with him.

But Moses still struggled to believe he could do what God was asking.

He worried that the Israelites wouldn't believe him. He explained that he wasn't a good speaker. And finally, he begged God to send someone else (Exodus 4:1–13).

God didn't pretend those objections were unimportant. He answered Moses' concerns, gave him evidence of His power, and arranged for his brother Aaron to help him speak. And when Moses continued resisting, God became angry with him.

Yet God did not abandon him.

He continued preparing Moses for the work He had called him to do.

That part of the story means a great deal to me.

God hadn't forgotten Moses during those forty years in the wilderness. And He hadn't decided that Moses' past made him useless.

The man who had once tried to help his people by using his own strength was now being invited to work with God in a rescue that only God could accomplish.

And perhaps that's what I need to understand about the way God looks at me.

He knows everything about my past. He knows the mistakes I've made, the opportunities I've lost, and the things I wish I could change. He knows my weaknesses even better than I do.

But He also knows what I can become with His help.

That doesn't mean my mistakes don't matter. Moses' decision to kill the Egyptian was terribly wrong, and his actions had consequences. God never needed Moses to do something wrong in order to accomplish His purpose.

Yet Moses' failure did not mean God had stopped caring about him.

And neither do my failures keep God from loving me.

I find it especially encouraging that God didn't simply tell Moses he was forgiven and then send him back to his sheep. He invited him to participate in something wonderful.

Moses would become the man through whom God led His people out of slavery. He would see God's power at the Red Sea, speak with Him at Sinai, and spend the rest of his life helping others learn to trust the God who had rescued them.

And it all began when God called his name beside a burning bush.

I wonder how many times I've assumed that God couldn't possibly be interested in someone like me because I know my own weaknesses and failures so well.

But perhaps I've been looking at myself instead of looking at Him.

God knew exactly who Moses was when He called him. And He knows exactly who I am, too.

Maybe God isn't finished with me simply because I've failed. Maybe He's inviting me to trust Him and discover what He can do with my life when I surrender it to Him.

I don't have to convince Him to take an interest in me.

He already has.

This is a great question and one that many people ask.

If God loves me, why does He allow things to happen that hurt so much? Why do children die, families fall apart, and good people suffer terrible illnesses? Why doesn't God step in and stop these things before they happen?

After all, He has the power to stop them, doesn't He?

Sometimes I can understand why people suffer because of their own decisions. But what about those who haven't done anything to deserve what happened to them? What about the innocent children who suffer because of someone else's evil choices?

Those questions become especially difficult when we're the ones who are hurting.

And they remind me of a man named Job.

The Bible describes Job as a good man who loved God and carefully avoided doing wrong. He had a large family, considerable wealth, and a comfortable life. He was also concerned about the spiritual well-being of his children and regularly prayed for them.

Then, without warning, his world fell apart.

In a single day, Job received one terrible report after another. His livestock had been stolen or destroyed, his servants had been killed, and finally, a messenger arrived with news no parent should ever have to hear.

All ten of his children were dead.

Imagine hearing that news. Imagine knowing that the children you had raised, loved, and prayed for were suddenly gone.

And Job's suffering wasn't over.

Soon afterward, he developed painful sores that covered his body. He was so miserable that he sat among ashes, scraping his skin with a piece of broken pottery (Job 2:7–8).

I wonder how Job felt as he tried to understand what had happened.

Had God forgotten him? Had he done something terribly wrong? Why would a loving God allow so much suffering to come upon someone who had been trying to serve Him faithfully?

But there's something Job didn't know.

The opening chapters of the book allow us to see a conversation taking place in heaven, something Job himself was totally unaware of.

Satan had challenged God's assessment of Job's faithfulness. He claimed that Job only loved and served God because God had blessed and protected him. Take those blessings away, Satan argued, and Job would turn against God.

Satan's challenge of God's character came in front of heavenly witnesses, so rather than simply denying the accusation, God allowed Satan to demonstrate whether his claims were true, while carefully limiting what he could do.

Think about what that reveals.

Job wasn't suffering because God had stopped loving him. Nor was he being punished for some terrible sin. Satan was the one seeking to destroy him.

And Job had no idea that any of this was happening.

As I thought about this story, I begin to realize how little I may understand about the things happening around me. I see the pain, the loss, and the circumstances that seem so terribly unfair. But I cannot see everything taking place in the conflict between good and evil.

Job couldn't either.

His friends came to comfort him, but they eventually made his suffering worse. They were convinced that God rewards good people and punishes wicked people, so they assumed Job must have done something wrong.

Imagine how painful that must have been to Job. He had lost his children, his possessions, and his health. Now even his friends were suggesting that he had brought these tragedies upon himself.

But they were wrong. God later rebuked those friends because they had not spoken correctly about Him (Job 42:7).

That part of the story is important to me because I've heard people make similar judgments today.

Someone becomes seriously ill, and people wonder what they did to deserve it. A family experiences a tragedy, and someone suggests that God must be trying to teach them a lesson.

But Job's experience warns us against making those assumptions. We don't know why every tragedy happens, and we certainly shouldn't claim to know what God is thinking when He hasn't told us.

As Job struggled with his suffering, he asked difficult questions. He complained about the injustice of what had happened and longed for an opportunity to speak directly with God. And eventually, God answered him.

But God's answer wasn't what Job expected.

God didn't explain the conversations with Satan or give Job a detailed account of why he had been allowed to suffer. Instead, He asked Job questions about the creation and the workings of the universe, helping him recognize how much remained beyond his understanding (Job 38–41).

Job came to realize that he had been trying to understand things far greater than his limited knowledge allowed.

Yet something else happened. He had encountered God personally. And that changed the way he understood his situation.

Perhaps that's one reason this story has meant so much to people throughout history. It doesn't give us a simple explanation for every painful experience. It reminds us that we don't know everything God knows.

But I don't think the story of Job, by itself, answers everything I want to know about God's love.

For that, I need to look at Jesus.

When Jesus came to earth, He entered the same world of suffering that we live in. He experienced hunger, exhaustion, rejection, grief, and terrible physical pain. He knew what it was like to be betrayed by someone He loved and abandoned by friends when He needed them most.

And eventually, He was arrested, beaten, and nailed to a cross, although He had never done anything wrong. (Talk about bad things happening to good people!)

If anyone ever suffered undeservedly, it was Jesus. He hadn't stood far away from our suffering, merely watching what happened to us. He came into our world and experienced suffering Himself.

That tells me something about God that I might never have understood otherwise.

He isn't indifferent to our pain.

Remember what Jesus did when He encountered people who were hurting. He healed the sick, fed the hungry, comforted the grieving, and welcomed people others had rejected. He didn't tell suffering people that their pain was unimportant or that they should simply learn to live with it.

He cared enough to do something about it, and His greatest act of love was to give His own life so that suffering and death would not have the final word.

But that still leaves me with a question. If Jesus loves us so much, why doesn't He put an end to all suffering right now?

I don't pretend to understand everything involved in God's decision to allow the conflict between good and evil to continue. But the Bible tells us that Satan's rebellion raised questions about God's character and authority, and that God is working toward a permanent end to sin and everything it has caused.

The promise isn't merely that God will someday make our circumstances a little better. He intends to remove sin, suffering, and death forever (Revelation 21:4; Nahum 1:9).

And until that day comes, He hasn't left us alone. Jesus promised His followers that they would experience trouble in this world, but He also assured them that He had overcome the world (John 16:33).

That doesn't mean every prayer will be answered the way we hope. It doesn't mean we won't experience terrible losses or have questions that remain unanswered throughout our lives.

Even Job never learned, as far as Scripture tells us, about the conversations in heaven that had preceded his suffering.

But he did discover that God had not abandoned him.

And when I look at Jesus, I can begin to understand why that matters.

The same God who permitted Job to experience suffering also sent His own Son into this world to rescue us from the terrible consequences of sin. Jesus didn't ask us to endure something He was unwilling to face Himself.

He came to suffer with us and to make possible a future in which suffering will never happen again.

So when I'm hurting, I may not understand why God has allowed something to happen. I may struggle with disappointment, ask difficult questions, or wonder why my prayers seem to go unanswered. But I don't have to conclude that God has stopped loving me.

I can look at Jesus and know that He understands my pain, that He hasn't forgotten me, and that He is working toward the day when the things that have hurt us will finally be gone forever.

I may not understand why God has allowed my suffering, but I can look at Jesus and begin to understand how God feels about it.

Have you ever read something in the Old Testament that made you wonder how the God who did those things could possibly be the same loving God Jesus came to reveal?

When I read about Jesus welcoming children, forgiving sinners, and praying for the very people who were crucifying Him, I see a God whose love is beyond comprehension.

But then I read about the Flood, when nearly the entire human race was destroyed, and I wonder how those two pictures of God can possibly fit together.

How can a loving God become so angry that He destroys people He created?

I think part of the answer may be found in understanding what made Him angry in the first place.

Consider what was happening in Noah's day.

The Bible tells us that the world had become terribly corrupt. Violence filled the earth, and people's thoughts were continually directed toward evil (Genesis 6:5, 11–13).

Imagine what life must have been like in a world where violence and wickedness had become so widespread. Imagine trying to raise a family when people had so little concern for one another, when cruelty was common, and when those who wanted to live peacefully had little protection from those who didn't.

God saw everything that was happening, and the Bible tells us something remarkable about how He felt. He was grieved in His heart (Genesis 6:6).

Think about that. Before we read about God's judgment, we read about His sorrow.

The people He had created to live in happiness and loving fellowship with Him were destroying one another. The world He had made for their enjoyment had become filled with suffering.

And God was deeply grieved.

I wonder whether we've sometimes misunderstood what God's anger means.

When someone deliberately hurts a child, we don't consider it loving to stand by without caring. When people are being abused, oppressed, or murdered, we recognize that something terribly wrong is happening.

In fact, the more deeply we love someone, the more we hate seeing them hurt. Could it be that God's anger against evil comes from the same love that makes Him compassionate toward those who suffer?

God doesn't hate people because they have become sinners. He hates what sin does to people He loves. And in Noah's day, sin had become so destructive that God determined to bring that terrible world to an end.

But notice what He did before the Flood came.

God instructed Noah to build an enormous ark, a place of safety for those who would enter it. The project took time, and Noah warned the people about the coming destruction. The Bible describes him as a preacher of righteousness and tells us that God patiently waited for 120 years, and while the ark was being prepared Noah warned the people over and over (Genesis 6:3; 1 Peter 3:20; 2 Peter 2:5).

God was not eager to destroy the people He had created. He provided a way of escape and gave them an opportunity to respond. Yet when the Flood came, only Noah and his family entered the ark.

I find that terribly sad.

God had provided a way for people to survive, but they had refused it.

And the destruction was real. Men and women, families, and entire communities perished. We shouldn't minimize that tragedy or pretend to understand everything involved in such a devastating judgment. But we should remember what Scripture has already told us about God's heart. He was grieved by what humanity had become.

Now, if you're wondering whether God's character changed between the Old Testament and the New Testament, consider something that happened during the final week of Jesus' life.

Jesus was approaching Jerusalem. The crowds were celebrating, welcoming Him as their King. But as He looked out over the city, He began to weep (Luke 19:41–44).

Why was He crying? Because He knew what was coming.

For centuries, God had sent messengers to His people, calling them to turn away from the things that were destroying them. Again and again, they had rejected His warnings. And now the very One who had come to save them was standing before their city.

Jesus knew that many would reject Him, too. He knew that Jerusalem would eventually be surrounded by enemy armies and that terrible suffering and destruction would follow.

But look at His response. He didn't rejoice that those who had rejected Him would finally receive what they deserved.

He wept.

On another occasion, Jesus expressed His sorrow over Jerusalem by comparing Himself to a mother hen trying to gather her chicks beneath her wings. He had wanted to gather and protect them, but they were unwilling (Matthew 23:37).

I think that tells us something beautiful about the God we are trying to understand. The same Jesus who wept over Jerusalem is the One who reveals the Father's heart.

He loved the people who were rejecting Him. He wanted to save them. And He grieved over what their refusal would eventually cost them.

That makes me look at the story of Noah a little differently. The God who saw the violence and corruption of Noah's day was not indifferent to the suffering of His children. And the God who ultimately brought judgment upon that wicked world was not someone who enjoyed watching people perish. He was a loving God confronting evil that was destroying His creation.

But there's still a difficult question.

If God loves everyone, does He continue loving people even when they refuse His love and He must finally destroy them?

I believe the Bible gives us a clear answer.

Through the prophet Ezekiel, God declared that He takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked. Instead, He wants them to turn away from their evil ways and live (Ezekiel 33:11).

Think about that. God wasn't speaking about people who had already become good. He was speaking about the wicked, the very people whose actions He condemned.

I wonder how differently I would think about God's judgments if I kept in my mind that every person who finally perishes is someone God wanted to save.

He knew them by name. He knew their history, their struggles, and the opportunities they had been given. He knew what they might have become if they had allowed Him to change their hearts.

And He wanted them to live. Yet God loves us enough to allow us to choose, even when our choice breaks His heart. His love doesn't depend on whether we deserve it. He loves us because love is who He is (1 John 4:8).

Jesus made that clear when He told His followers that the Father sends sunshine and rain upon both the righteous and the unrighteous (Matthew 5:44–45). God continues showing kindness even to those who oppose Him.

But love doesn't mean God can allow evil to continue forever. What kind of loving Father would allow His children to be hurt, abused, and destroyed throughout eternity?

If God never brought evil to an end, suffering would never end either. There would always be another victim, another act of cruelty, another broken family, and another grave.

God is determined to save His children from the very thing that is destroying them, and that means sin itself must eventually come to an end.

The Bible describes a final judgment in which those who have persistently rejected God's gift of life will perish, and even death itself will be destroyed (Revelation 20:11–15; 21:4).

That isn't because God has stopped loving them. It is because He will not force anyone to accept the life He offers, and He will not allow sin to continue destroying His children forever.

I think about how Jesus stood looking over Jerusalem, weeping for people who would not let Him save them, and I begin to understand something I hadn't fully appreciated before.

God's anger and His love are not two opposing sides of His character. He is angry at evil because He loves those whom evil hurts. He warns people because He wants to protect them. He gives them opportunities to turn back because He wants them to live.

And even when people finally reject every effort to save them, His love does not turn into hatred.

Every person who is finally lost is someone God wanted to save. Someone He created, someone He knew by name, and someone He loved enough to give His own Son to rescue. Their destruction is a tragedy to the God who wanted to give them life.

Perhaps that's why Jesus wept over Jerusalem. He knew what was coming, and He knew it didn't have to end that way.

When I think about God's judgments now, I want to remember those tears. I want to remember that Satan is the one who wants to destroy us, while God has been working to rescue us from the very beginning.

And I want to remember something else. The God who grieved over the wickedness of Noah's world, who pleaded with Israel to turn from its destructive ways, and who wept over Jerusalem is the same God who wants me to live.

His warnings aren't threats from someone who is looking for a reason to destroy me. They are the appeals of Someone who loves me and knows what will happen if I refuse His help.

And when God finally puts an end to evil, it will be because He loves His creation too much to allow suffering to continue forever.

Have you ever felt that you needed to become a better person before God would really be pleased with you?

Maybe there are things in your life you've been struggling to overcome. Perhaps you've made mistakes you deeply regret, hurt people you care about, or developed habits you know aren't good for you. You'd like to have a closer relationship with God, but something keeps telling you that you ought to straighten out your life before approaching Him.

I've wondered about that myself. Does God really love me with all my faults and weaknesses, or is He waiting for me to become someone He can finally approve of?

There's a story about a little man named Zacchaeus that has helped me understand the answer.

Zacchaeus lived in Jericho, where he worked as a chief tax collector for the Roman government. Tax collectors were not particularly popular among the Jewish people. They collected money for the Romans, who controlled their country, and many tax collectors became wealthy by collecting more than people actually owed.

Zacchaeus had become a rich man, but his wealth hadn't made him popular. Most people regarded tax collectors as dishonest men who had betrayed their own people for money.

But something was beginning to change in Zacchaeus's life.

John the Baptist had been preaching near the Jordan River, calling people to repent and turn away from their sins. When tax collectors asked John what they should do, he told them not to collect more money than they were authorized to collect (Luke 3:12–13).

Those words had made an impression on Zacchaeus. He knew that some of the things he had done were wrong, and he had begun trying to make them right.

He had also heard about Jesus.

People were talking about a remarkable Teacher who treated sinners with kindness instead of contempt. Jesus even had a former tax collector among His closest disciples (Matthew 9:9).

I wonder what Zacchaeus thought when he heard that. Perhaps it gave him hope that someone like him could be accepted by God.

He wanted to change, and he had already begun taking steps in that direction. But changing his life wasn't easy. People still knew him as a dishonest tax collector, and even when he tried to correct his mistakes, they continued to regard him with suspicion.

Then one day, Zacchaeus learned that Jesus was coming through Jericho.

He wanted to see Him.

But there was a problem. Zacchaeus was short, and the crowds lining the road made it impossible for him to see over their heads. No one seemed interested in making room for him. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree.

I wonder what Zacchaeus was thinking as he waited. Perhaps he wondered whether Jesus would treat him with the same contempt he had experienced from so many others. Maybe he simply wanted to see the face of the Man whose words had given him hope that his life could be different.

Then Jesus came walking down the road, and when He reached the tree, He stopped, looked up, and called Zacchaeus by name.

"Zacchaeus! Quick, come down! I must be a guest in your home today." (Luke 19:5, NLT)

Imagine how surprised Zacchaeus must have been! He had climbed the tree hoping to see Jesus, but Jesus already knew who he was. And instead of walking past him, Jesus wanted to spend time with him.

What I find especially interesting is what Jesus didn't say. He didn't demand that Zacchaeus prove he had changed before He would speak to him. He didn't tell him to finish correcting every wrong he had committed before inviting Him into his home. And He certainly didn't seem concerned about what other people would think of Him for associating with a tax collector.

Jesus already knew the kind of man Zacchaeus had been. He knew about the wrong things he had done, and He knew about the changes that were beginning to take place in his heart, and He wanted to visit him anyway.

The people watching weren't nearly as pleased. They began complaining that Jesus had gone to be the guest of a notorious sinner. They couldn't understand why someone who claimed to represent God would willingly associate with a man they considered so unworthy.

But Jesus saw something they apparently hadn't noticed. Zacchaeus was no longer content with the life he had been living. He wanted something better, and he had begun responding to God's influence on his heart.

What happened next showed just how important Jesus' welcome was to him. Zacchaeus stood and publicly announced that he was giving half his wealth to the poor and restoring four times the amount he had wrongfully taken from anyone (Luke 19:8).

His repentance was no longer simply a private matter. He was willing to acknowledge his wrongdoing and make things right, even in front of people who despised him.

And Jesus responded with wonderful news. He announced that salvation had come to Zacchaeus's home and reminded everyone listening that He had come to seek and save those who were lost (Luke 19:9–10).

I find something especially beautiful about the order in which these events happened. God had been working in Zacchaeus's heart long before Jesus arrived in Jericho. The words of John the Baptist had troubled his conscience. What he had heard about Jesus had awakened hope. And that hope had led him to begin correcting the wrongs he had committed.

But Zacchaeus still wanted to meet Jesus personally, and when he finally had the opportunity, Jesus didn't turn away from him because his life wasn't yet everything it ought to be. He welcomed him.

That helps me understand something about God's love that I think I've sometimes gotten backward.

Jesus didn't begin loving Zacchaeus when he started making restitution, and He didn't wait until Zacchaeus had corrected every wrong before taking an interest in him. God had loved him all along. In fact, it was God's influence that had awakened his desire to change in the first place.

Perhaps that's what I've been missing when I wonder whether God can love me as I am.

He already does.

The Bible tells us that Jesus died for us while we were still sinners (Romans 5:8). He didn't wait until we had overcome our faults, learned to obey perfectly, or become worthy of His affection.

But because He loves us, He doesn't want us to continue doing the things that are hurting us and the people around us.

Think about how you would feel if someone you loved was making choices that were slowly destroying their happiness. Would you stop loving them because of those choices? Or would your love make you want to help them find a better way to live?

That's what Jesus wants to do for us. He invites us to come to Him with our faults, our regrets, and the things we've struggled to overcome. We can ask Him to show us where we've been wrong, confess those sins, and trust Him to forgive us and give us the desire and strength to turn away from them.

And when we stumble, we can come back to Him rather than running away in shame.

God promises something far better than simply helping us become a little more disciplined. He promises to give us new hearts and new desires (Ezekiel 36:26–27). As we get to know Jesus and learn to trust Him, He begins changing the way we think, what we love, and how we treat other people.

That's what I see happening in the story of Zacchaeus, and there's something else I don't want to miss. Zacchaeus had gone looking for Jesus, but Jesus already knew his name and was already looking for him.

I love that thought.

God made a wonderful promise through the prophet Jeremiah: "If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me." (Jeremiah 29:13, NLT)

Zacchaeus wanted to see Jesus, so he climbed a tree. He probably had no idea how much that simple decision would change his life. He just wanted to get close enough to see Jesus. And Jesus stopped beneath that tree and called him by name.

I wonder how many people are waiting to become better before they begin seriously seeking God. They know there are things in their lives that need to change, but they don't know where to begin. Perhaps they're even afraid of what Jesus might think if He knew everything about them.

But He already knows, and He wants them to come to Him anyway.

When I think about Zacchaeus sitting in that tree, I realize I don't have to wait until I've become the person I want to be before I begin getting to know Jesus. I can come to Him today, just as I am, and ask Him to help me become the person He created me to be.

God already loves me. I don't have to change to earn His love. But as I come to know Him, His love begins changing me.

And perhaps the most wonderful part of the story is that Zacchaeus wasn't the only one looking forward to their meeting.

Jesus wanted to see him, too.

Have you ever wondered why God gives us commandments if He really wants us to be free?

After all, if someone loves me, shouldn't they let me make my own decisions? Why should God tell me what I can and cannot do, especially when some of those things might seem perfectly harmless?

I've heard people describe Christianity as a life filled with rules and restrictions. You can't do this, you shouldn't do that, and if you want God to be pleased with you, you'd better do what He says. But is that really what God intended?

I think we can begin finding the answer by going back to the very beginning of human history, when Adam and Eve lived in the Garden of Eden.

Try to imagine what their lives must have been like. Everything around them was beautiful. The trees produced wonderful fruit, the animals lived together peacefully, and there was no sickness, suffering, or death. They had meaningful work to do, a beautiful home to enjoy, and the freedom to explore the wonderful world God had created. Best of all, they could spend time with God Himself.

The Bible tells us that God placed Adam in the Garden and gave him permission to eat freely from its trees. There was only one restriction. He was not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. And God explained why. If Adam ate from that tree, he would die (Genesis 2:16–17).

I've sometimes wondered why God placed that tree in the Garden in the first place. If He knew that eating its fruit would bring death, why didn't He simply keep it out of their reach?

But then I think about what it means to love someone. Suppose I wanted someone to love me, but I made it impossible for that person to do anything other than what I wanted. I controlled every decision, prevented every disagreement, and never allowed that person to walk away. Would that person really be free to love me?

Of course not. Love means something because it is freely given. And for Adam and Eve to freely choose to trust God, they also needed the freedom to reject His instructions.

That doesn't mean God wanted them to disobey. Quite the opposite. He had given them everything they needed for a wonderful life, and His warning was meant to protect them from something they had never experienced—death.

Then one day, Eve found herself near the forbidden tree. The serpent began talking to her, questioning what God had said. At first, Eve repeated God's instruction. She knew they were not supposed to eat from that tree, and she knew God had warned that disobedience would bring death.

But the serpent contradicted God. He told her that she wouldn't die. Instead, eating the fruit would open her eyes and make her like God, knowing good and evil (Genesis 3:1–5).

Think about what Satan was suggesting. He was telling Eve that God was keeping something wonderful from her. According to the serpent, God's restriction wasn't intended to protect her. It was preventing her from becoming something greater than she already was.

And Eve believed him. She looked at the fruit, decided it was desirable, and ate it. Then she gave some to Adam, and he ate it too.

Both had been warned about the consequences. Adam, in particular, was not deceived in the way Eve had been (1 Timothy 2:14). Yet he chose to disobey God's instruction.

And everything changed. For the first time, they felt shame and fear. When God came looking for them, they hid among the trees. The loving Creator whose presence had once brought them happiness was now Someone they were afraid to face. And when God asked what had happened, they began blaming others.

Before long, Adam and Eve found themselves outside the Garden that had been their home. The ground would now produce thorns and thistles. Life would involve hardship, sorrow, and eventually death (Genesis 3:16–24).

I sometimes try to imagine what it must have felt like to look back toward the Garden they could no longer enter. Behind them was a world where suffering and death had begun, and struggles they had never imagined. And somewhere beyond the entrance to the Garden was the beautiful home they had lost.

I wonder whether they finally understood why God had warned them not to eat that fruit. He hadn't been trying to keep them from something wonderful. He had been trying to keep them from something terrible.

And that makes me think differently about God's commandments. What if His instructions aren't restrictions imposed by Someone who wants to control every part of my life? What if they're warnings from Someone who understands the consequences of choices I may not fully understand?

A loving parent doesn't warn a child to stay away from a dangerous cliff because the parent enjoys making rules. The warning comes from knowing what will happen if the child falls. And the child doesn't become more free by ignoring that warning. He may have the freedom to step over the edge, but he doesn't have the freedom to choose what happens afterward.

I think that's one of the most important things we can learn from Adam and Eve. God gives us the freedom to make choices, but He doesn't promise to remove the consequences of those choices. Sometimes those consequences are far greater than we ever imagined.

Adam and Eve wanted something the serpent promised would make their lives better. Instead, their decision brought suffering and death into a world where neither had existed before.

Yet even after they disobeyed, God didn't stop loving them. When He came into the Garden, He called out to Adam. He spoke with them about what had happened, provided clothing for them, and gave them the first promise that the serpent would ultimately be defeated (Genesis 3:9, 15, 21). The God whose warning they had ignored was already working to rescue them from the consequences of their choice.

Now consider something Jesus did many centuries later.

A wealthy young man came to Him with an important question. He wanted to know what he needed to do to inherit eternal life. The young man had been careful to keep God's commandments, at least as he understood them. But he sensed that something was still missing. Evidently, he didn't understand that his love of what he owned had become an idol.

The Bible tells us that Jesus looked at him and loved him (Mark 10:21). I think that's an important detail. Jesus knew what was in this young man's heart. He knew how strongly the man was attached to his wealth, and He understood that his possessions had become more important to him than the life God wanted to give him.

So Jesus invited him to sell what he owned, give to the poor, and come follow Him. But the young man was unwilling. He went away sorrowful because he had great possessions (Mark 10:17–22).

And Jesus let him go.

I've often wondered what happened to that young man afterward. Did he ever reconsider? Did he eventually realize what he had walked away from? The Bible doesn't tell us. But it does tell us that Jesus loved him. And even though Jesus knew the young man was making a terrible choice, He didn't force him to stay.

That's the kind of freedom God gives us. He tells us the truth about what leads to life and what leads to death. He warns us about things that will hurt us and invites us to trust Him. But He doesn't force us to love Him or accept what He offers.

And His commandments are not arbitrary rules designed to make life difficult. When God tells us not to steal, He's protecting people from being robbed. When He tells us not to lie, He's protecting the trust that makes loving relationships possible. When He tells us not to commit adultery, He's protecting the faithfulness and security that marriage was intended to provide.

And when He tells us to love one another, He's showing us the kind of life He created us to enjoy. Jesus said that all God's commandments are founded upon love for God and love for one another (Matthew 22:37–40).

That helps me understand why obedience matters. I don't obey God to convince Him to love me. He already loves me. I want to learn to obey Him because I'm beginning to understand that He loves me and knows what is best for me. And when I don't understand one of His instructions, I can choose to trust the One who gave it.

That doesn't mean obedience will always be easy or that every temptation will suddenly disappear. Sometimes I'll struggle, and sometimes I'll make wrong choices. But I can ask Jesus to help me. He doesn't merely tell me how to live. He offers to change my heart so that I begin wanting what is good (Ezekiel 36:26–27).

When I think about Adam and Eve looking back toward the Garden they had lost, I realize how much they must have wished they had trusted God. They had been free to choose, and they had made a terrible decision. But God hadn't abandoned them. From the moment they fell, He began revealing His plan to rescue the human family and restore the life they had lost.

And one day, when Jesus has finished His work of rescue, the earth will again become the beautiful home God intended it to be. The Bible promises a world without death, sorrow, crying, or pain (Revelation 21:1–4).

I find that promise especially wonderful because it means God hasn't changed His mind about what He wants for us. He still wants us to live.

And perhaps that's what I need to remember whenever I read something in the Bible that tells me not to do something I might otherwise want to do.

God isn't trying to keep something good from me. He's trying to protect me from the things that would destroy the life and happiness He wants me to enjoy.

His commandments are not the opposite of freedom. They help me understand how to use my freedom without destroying myself or hurting others. And because He loves me, He leaves the choice in my hands.

More: Lessons From the Helen Keller Story

We've been looking at what God is really like, and the more I discover about His love, the more I find myself wanting to know Him personally.

But how do I do that? How do I develop a friendship with Someone I can't see?

After all, it's possible to know quite a lot about someone without ever becoming their friend. I can read books about a famous person, learn about their childhood, study what they've accomplished, and even memorize some of the things they've said. But that doesn't mean I know them personally.

I wonder whether that's sometimes what happens with our relationship with Jesus. We learn the stories about His life, hear sermons about His teachings, and become familiar with what Christians believe. But somehow, we never get around to developing a personal friendship with the One we've been learning about.

There's a little story near the end of Jesus' ministry that has helped me think about this differently. It's about a blind man named Bartimaeus.

Bartimaeus was sitting beside the road near Jericho, begging. The Bible doesn't tell us how long he had been blind or what had happened to his eyes, but it does tell us that he was unable to see and depended upon the generosity of others to survive.

One day, he heard a large crowd approaching. When he asked what was happening, someone told him that Jesus of Nazareth was passing by (Luke 18:35–37).

Bartimaeus had apparently heard about Jesus. Perhaps people had told him about the miracles He had performed, the sick He had healed, and the kindness He had shown to those who needed His help. Whatever he knew, it was enough to convince him that Jesus was Someone worth calling out to.

So he began shouting, asking Jesus to have mercy on him. The people near him weren't pleased and told him to be quiet, but Bartimaeus refused to stop. In fact, the more they tried to silence him, the louder he called.

I wonder what he was thinking. Here was the One Person who might be able to give him his sight, and the crowd was trying to prevent him from getting His attention. Bartimaeus wasn't about to let that opportunity pass.

Then something wonderful happened. Jesus stopped.

Think about that for a moment. Jesus was on His way to Jerusalem, where He knew He would soon face terrible suffering and death. There was a large crowd traveling with Him, and countless things must have been occupying His thoughts. Yet when He heard a blind beggar calling for help, He stopped and had the man brought to Him.

When Bartimaeus learned that Jesus was calling him, he threw aside his cloak, jumped to his feet, and went to Him (Mark 10:50).

Then Jesus asked him a question. "What do you want me to do for you?" (Mark 10:51, NLT)

At first, that might seem like a strange thing to ask a blind man who had been crying out for mercy. Surely Jesus already knew what Bartimaeus needed. But Jesus gave him the opportunity to ask for what he wanted.

And Bartimaeus knew exactly what to say. He wanted to see.

Jesus healed him, telling him that his faith had made him well. Suddenly, the man who had been sitting beside the road begging could see the world around him.

I wish I could have watched his face at that moment. Imagine seeing sunlight, trees, people, and the faces of those who had been standing nearby. After living in darkness, what must it have been like to see?

But there's something about this story that I find even more meaningful than the miracle itself. The Bible tells us that Bartimaeus immediately began following Jesus along the road (Mark 10:52).

He had received what he had asked for. His eyesight was restored. He could have gone home, found work, visited friends, or simply spent the day enjoying the wonderful gift he had received. Instead, he followed Jesus.

The Bible doesn't tell us why Bartimaeus chose to follow Jesus rather than return home, but I like to imagine that he wanted to know more about the wonderful Person who had just given him his sight. He could now see the world around him, but perhaps what interested him most was getting to know the One who had made that possible.

He could finally see Jesus. And he wanted to keep seeing Him.

And isn't that how we begin getting to know someone?

We spend time with them. We listen to what they say and watch what they do. As we become better acquainted, we begin to understand what matters to them, what makes them happy, and what makes them sad. I think the same principle applies to our relationship with Jesus.

Of course, I can't walk beside Jesus on a dusty road in Palestine the way Bartimaeus did. I can't sit beside Him on a hillside or watch Him reach out to touch someone who needs healing. But I can read the stories of His life in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

And when I read them, I can do more than simply learn what happened. I can begin paying attention to the Person Jesus was revealing Himself to be.

How did He respond when someone interrupted Him? What did He do when people were afraid? How did He treat those who had sinned? What made Him angry, and what brought tears to His eyes?

And I can discover something about Him by looking at the world He created. Paul tells us that God's invisible qualities can be seen in the things He has made (Romans 1:20). Think about the astonishing variety of His creation. He could have made a world with very little color, few sounds, and only the things necessary to keep us alive. Instead, He gave us flowers in countless shapes and colors, magnificent landscapes with mountains and waterfalls, birds that sing, and the wonderful harmony of music. He created a three-dimensional world filled with beauty we can explore from every direction. I sometimes wonder whether we appreciate just how artistic our Creator really is. He didn't merely make a world where we could survive. He filled it with things that bring us happiness, inviting us to discover something of His creativity, generosity, and love.

Of course, the world we see today has been terribly damaged by sin. There are things in nature that are beautiful and things that are frightening, so I can't look at everything around me and assume that it perfectly represents God's original intentions. Creation can help me appreciate His power and creativity, but I need the Bible to understand His character more fully. And when I want to know how He feels about people, I especially need to look at Jesus. The same One through whom everything was created came into this world to show us what His Father is really like (John 1:1–3, 14).

And I can talk to Him. That may sound rather obvious, but I think sometimes we make prayer more complicated than it needs to be. We worry about finding the right words or saying things in a particular way, as though God might not listen unless we pray correctly.

But Jesus already knows us. He knows what we're thinking, what we're struggling with, and what we're afraid to tell anyone else. I can talk with Him about those things. I can thank Him for the good things that happened during my day, ask for help when I'm confused, and tell Him when I'm disappointed or afraid. I can admit when I've done something wrong and ask Him to forgive me and help me change.

And I can ask Him to help me understand what I'm reading in the Bible. In fact, I think one of the simplest prayers I can offer is, "Jesus, please help me get to know You. Show me what You're really like and help me learn to trust You." Or simply, "Jesus, help me!"

And when I want to hear what Jesus has to say, I can open my Bible and read His words. I can ask Him to help me understand what He's teaching me and how it applies to my life. Sometimes what I read may challenge something I've believed or reveal an attitude I need to change. But as I learn to trust Him, I begin understanding that His guidance comes from Someone who loves me.

But getting to know Jesus involves more than reading about Him and talking with Him. It also means learning to trust Him enough to follow where He leads.

That's what I find so meaningful about Bartimaeus. When Jesus gave him his sight, he didn't simply thank Him and return to his old life. He began following Him.

As I learn more about Jesus, I'll discover things in my own life that need to change. Perhaps I'll realize that I've been holding onto anger toward someone who hurt me. Maybe I'll recognize that I've been dishonest, selfish, or unwilling to forgive.

When that happens, I have a choice. I can ignore what Jesus is showing me, or I can ask Him to help me begin living differently.

Jesus told His disciples that those who love Him will keep His commandments (John 14:15). He was not telling them to earn His love through obedience. He was describing what happens when we come to love and trust Him. We begin wanting to live the way He teaches us because we're discovering that His way is good.

Just as a friendship grows through time spent together, my relationship with Jesus can grow as I continue learning to listen to Him, talk with Him, and follow Him.

There have been days when I don't feel particularly close to God. There are prayers that seem unanswered and things in the Bible that I struggle to understand. Sometimes I may even wonder whether I'm making any progress at all. But a friendship isn't built on feelings alone. It's built on learning to know and trust someone over time.

Jesus has promised that He will never abandon those who come to Him (John 6:37; Hebrews 13:5). I find that especially comforting because I know how easily I can become distracted. I can begin the day intending to spend time with God and then become so occupied with other things that I hardly think about Him again.

But I don't have to give up because I failed to spend as much time with Him as I intended. I can turn back to Him, ask for His help, and continue getting to know Him. Jesus isn't looking for an excuse to end our friendship. He wants it to grow.

And that brings me back to something I love about the story of Bartimaeus.

When Bartimaeus first heard that Jesus was approaching, he began calling for Him. The crowd tried to silence him, but he kept calling until Jesus stopped. Bartimaeus wanted to see, and Jesus gave him his sight. But the story didn't end there. Having received the gift he had asked for, Bartimaeus began following the One who had given it to him.

Think about that simple progression. He heard about Jesus. He called out to Jesus. He received help from Jesus. And then he chose to follow Jesus.

And perhaps that's what makes following Jesus so important. Paul tells us that as we behold the Lord, we are gradually transformed to become more like Him (2 Corinthians 3:18).

And as Jesus changes my heart, something wonderful begins to happen. Other people can begin discovering what He is like through the way I treat them. Jesus told His disciples to love one another as He had loved them (John 13:34–35). That means learning to be patient when someone frustrates me, offering kindness when another person is having a difficult day, and treating people with respect even when I disagree with them. I may never know how much a simple act of kindness means to someone who has been hurt or rejected. But perhaps that person will begin wondering what makes me different, and eventually become interested in getting to know the Jesus who is changing my life. God doesn't merely want me to experience His love. He wants others to experience something of His love through me.

The more I study how Jesus treated people, the more I begin wanting to treat people the same way. His patience makes me want to become more patient. His compassion makes me more aware of the suffering around me. And His willingness to forgive challenges me to forgive those who have hurt me.

I don't change myself simply by trying harder to be good. I change as I come to know and love Jesus and allow Him to change my heart.

I wonder whether that might be a beautiful way to begin our own friendship with Jesus. We don't have to understand everything about the Bible before approaching Him. We don't have to solve every theological question or become perfect people before asking Him to help us.

We can begin right where we are, with whatever understanding we have, and ask Him to help us get to know Him better. And as we spend time with Him, we will discover that the God we once may have feared is Someone we've been longing to know all along.

Perhaps one day, when we finally stand face to face with Jesus, we'll discover that the friendship with Him that we've been developing here on earth was only the beginning. Imagine what it will be like to look into His eyes, hear His voice, and know that the One who has been helping us through every difficulty is finally standing right in front of us.

That's what I look forward to, and in the meantime, I want to keep getting to know Him.

The more I come to know Jesus, the more I discover how much He loves me and how completely I can trust Him. And as that friendship grows, I find myself falling more and more in love with the God I may once have been afraid of.