WHY SHOULD HE LOVE ME SO?

Formative. Almost determinative.

It’s one of my early childhood memories, the kind that take on foundational importance. The details are a bit fuzzy, but the core is solid.

This formative, almost determinate moment took place during my Dad’s first pastorate, in a little old church in Stilesville, Indiana. While they had hired him to preach, and that only part-time, mind you, it seemed like every job that somebody wasn’t already doing fell to him, whether he could do it or not. So it was that, even though he didn’t read music, he became the choir director, because he sang bass in a barbershop quartet. Even though he’d never done it before, he ran the youth group, because he had teenage sons. And even though he wasn’t a soloist, he sang a solo several times a month, because he had the nerve.

Maybe it was on a Sunday night – that’s usually when he got to (translation: had to) sing – when I heard the song that lately has come rolling back through my mind like an 18-wheeler.

Love sent my Savior to die in my stead.
Why should He love me so?
Meekly to Calvary’s cross He was led.
Why should He love me so?

And the refrain:
Why should He love me so?
Why should He love me so?
Why should my Savior to Calvary go?
Why should He love me so?

When I was eight, it was just another song my Dad sang, not so different from most: nice enough, to be sure; and the people who heard him sing it obviously liked it, even though, as Dad said afterward, it was just a little out of his range.

Forty-four years later, I have discovered it’s completely out of my range.

Musically speaking, the song is certainly not daunting; but then, unlike my Dad, I had lots of musical training. He saw to it that I did. But there is no training, musical or otherwise, that can put the event the song refers to within our range.

Why, indeed, should He love me so?

That’s a question that just won’t go away, if you’ve pondered the crucifixion of God’s Son. All the logic of theological expertise and all the wisdom of the wise leave us staring awestruck into the marred countenance of Unexplainable Love, incarnate from the Virgin Mary, crucified under Pontius Pilate, Who suffered and was buried, and on the third day rose again.

Why should He love me so?

I can’t describe it, except to point to the cross. I can’t figure it out. What did He see in me that would move Him to endure such horror, such unspeakable agony for my salvation?

Why should He love me so?

There are no words left to speak.

Why should He love me so?

There is only a life left to offer. Here I am, Lord. Take me. I’m Yours.