The Theology of a Yellow Baseball Cap
Grace, Particular Love, and the Illogical Mercy of Jesus
It’s August, and it's hot (hard to even imagine in February). I’m sitting on a bench at the county fair, people-watching. A woman at a picnic table across the midway has a bright yellow baseball cap that says JESUS LOVES ME BEST. Obvious snark, I think.
But I keep watching. I notice that most of the people she’s with appear to have profound intellectual disabilities. I see her extravagant enjoyment of everything, her utter lack of self-consciousness. Finally, I decide she’s probably absolutely serious about the hat.
And it’s sweet, right? Not great theology, maybe, but sweet.
I’ve thought a lot about that woman since then, and that hat. And I think she may be the most profound theologian I’ve ever read.
Grace is a huge New Testament concept, and at root, it’s about us being God’s favorites. St. John said he was the disciple Jesus loved. But I’ll bet Peter thought he was. And Mary Magdalene thought she was. And Mary of Bethany. And Jairus’s little girl.
My logical mind jumps in, though: we can’t all be Jesus’s favorite.
It’s not logical, but it makes perfect heart-sense. Which of my kids is my favorite? That’s like asking which I like better: fresh-squeezed lemonade, homemade penuche frosting, or fresh salmon grilled on a cedar plank over an open fire. They’re each sui generis, unique, in a class of their own. And each one is my absolute favorite.
Jesus has explored you and knows you–the secret hope, the lurking anxiety, your childhood, your DNA–because he’s crazy about you. He was there as you floated in the warm dark of your amniotic sac. He is intimately acquainted with each of your quirky little habits and ways of being–because you are his Best Beloved. And if my finite mother-heart can have several favorites, Jesus’s infinite mother-heart has room for infinitely more.
T. S. Eliot says April is the cruelest month. Personally, my money’s on February. Especially this one. Christmas was forever ago, who knows if the daffodils will ever come, and there’s so much fear everywhere. Here in the Pacific Northwest, the days are dark. Wet. Cold. Muddy. And to top it off, there’s Valentine’s Day to remind us of our existential loneliness.
But here’s the thing. JESUS LOVES ME BEST.
And you, too, O Best Beloved.
That’s not a Dollar Store sticker for Sunday School. That’s deep Reality. We’re seen, known, loved–and the sepia-tones of February, with all our littleness and loneliness, transition to the Technicolor of the Kingdom. Jesus hangs delicate veils of fog for me in the tops of the tall firs on my morning wheelchair “walks.” Jesus made a dog just for me: Jack, who loves me with all his anxious, slobbery heart. And Jesus whispers to me through the Scriptures, assuring me of his compassion and patience, his tremendous kindness and faithful love; and encouraging me to reorient my thinking–toward gratitude, toward wonder, toward hope–because his kingdom is oh-so-near. Even in February. Even this February.
JESUS LOVES ME BEST.
Going Deeper
Have no time?
As you brush your teeth or wash your hands, look in the mirror and say, Jesus loves me best. . . . I am his Best Beloved.
Have 60 seconds? (Or more?)
Soak in one of the Scriptures underpinning this essay:
Jesus says:
Arise, My love, My beautiful one!
Come away with Me!
Look! The winter has passed;
the rains are over and gone;
the pomegranates have appeared in the land;
the time for pruning and singing has come. . . .
Arise, come away, My darling, My beautiful one,
come away with Me!
O My dove! In the clefts of the rock,
in the secret place of the steep pathway,
let Me see your face,
let Me hear your voice;
for your voice is sweet,
and your face is lovely. (Song 2.10-14)
I say:
O YHWH, You have explored me, and You know me, intimately and experientially.
You know when I sit down and when I stand up;
You understand my thoughts from afar.
You sift and measure my path and my lying down
and are intimately acquainted with all my ways.
You squeeze me in from behind and in front [this is a hug!];
You place your hand on me.
Too amazing is this knowledge for me.
It is high; I cannot attain to it. . . . (Psalm 139.1-16)
Jesus says:
Can a woman forget her nursing child,
and have no compassion on the son of her womb?
Even these may forget, but I will not forget you!
Look, I have inscribed you on My palms.
Your walls are continually before Me. (Isa. 49.15, 16)
Jesus says:
Behold, I extend peace to her like a river,
and the glory of the nations like an overflowing stream.
And you shall nurse, you shall be carried on the hip and cuddled on the knees.
As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you. (Isa. 66.12, 13)
I say:
You are who You are: a God compassionate and gracious,
slow to anger and abounding in lovingkindness and faithfulness. (Ex. 34.6)
Jesus says:
The time is fulfilled:
the kingdom of God is near!
Reorient your thinking,
and trust [this] good news! (Mark 1.15)
Jesus says:
You are precious in My sight;
you are honored, and I love you. (Isa. 43.4a)
