We spend a lot of our energy convincing others of the love of God. In fact, for the most part, we seem to be convinced of it for others— fully believing that the grace of God covers every sin of theirs and that their Heavenly Father profoundly loves them. For many of us who are familiar with church, it would be a simple thing to biblically prove that God loves His people. 

But sometimes we find ourselves distant, anxious, and unsteady in His presence. We know that Jesus makes it possible to be in His throne room and that He is sufficient to cover sins. We just don’t think God wants us there. 

I went to Him cautiously, thinking that He was accepting, but displeased. I went to Him reluctantly, convinced He rolled His eyes when I showed up. I went quietly, on my best behavior, not wanting to take up any space where I already felt unworthy. If you’ve ever felt like me, give the Bible a chance to convince you otherwise— His presence is the safest, most joyful place to be, and He really does want you there. 

First, it is commanded that we go to Him. He is the one who commands it. Matthew 11:28-30 starts with this: “Come to me, all…” This is an imperative command. A deliberate instruction. Jesus is commanding that all come to Him. He says the same thing in John 15, commanding us to abide in Him. But how can we come to Him? 

Second, we know the holiness of God, and that our sin makes it impossible to go to Him on our own. The Father knew that too. Since the beginning, He has been making ways for us. Establishing covenants, using men as mouthpieces, dwelling in tents made by human hands, leading in pillars of cloud and fire, honoring sacrifices, responding to prayers, and finally, coming down Himself. The story of the Bible is one of God constantly seeking broken people. He subjected Himself to human life and death—why? For His glory and our participation in it. That we might be called sons and daughters. So He commands that we come to Him, and He made it possible to come to Him. 

Third, it was the joy of Christ to hang on the cross on our behalf. Hebrews 12:2 says that Jesus went to the cross “for the joy set before Him.” The joy of bringing us to the Father was great enough to justify the torture of the cross. He called it “joy” to endure the cross when He saw our communion with Him on the other side. In fact, Hebrews calls Him the “author” of our faith in this sense. He chose the cross in order to choose you, and He wrote it that way. 

So we have a command to come to Christ, the path to Him accomplished by Christ, and a declaration that it was His joy to bring us to the Father. Maybe He does want us to come— and still, there’s more. 

Jesus “knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust.” (Psalm 103:14) He is not shocked by our weakness. 1 John says that “if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.” We are even told that His power is made perfect in our weakness. That we are hidden in Christ. Seated with Him in the heavenly places. So when the Father sees us, He sees the sufficiency of Christ. 

The deeper our need for forgiveness, the more the worthiness of Christ is put on display. His sacrifice was enough to accomplish not only our sinlessness before Christ, which is a miracle in itself, but it was enough to accomplish His delight in us as well. 

To go to Him anxiously believing that He is secretly disappointed is to reject the truth that the blood of Jesus is enough to cover your failures. This weight on our shoulders is enough to keep us from His presence, which is the very point of Jesus’ sacrifice in the first place. Why would He command you to come to Him, give His life to make it possible, call it joy to endure the cross, and then hide you in Christ and include your life in His glory if He didn’t want you in His presence? Even delight in your coming to Him? 

I’ll submit to you what I have been leaning on for life: The Father is greatly pleased when you trust the blood of Jesus enough to walk into His throne room with confidence. This confidence does not come from faith in yourself, but complete knowledge of your complete unworthiness, matched and exceeded by the sacrifice of Jesus on your behalf. He knows your frame. He knows your weakness. He knows your sinfulness— much better than you do, actually, for He felt the whole weight of it— and He has covered it to the uttermost, accomplishing not only your righteousness but joyful communion with your Father. I can personally testify to what a life lived with Jesus is like. Living this broken, messy, heartbreaking and difficult life can take a toll on any soul, no matter how resilient it might be. The Bible, and our Lord, does not diminish the difficulty of life. In fact, He often warns us about how hard it is. But if no one has ever held your hands and looked you in the eyes, and through tears promised you that He really means what He says, then let me be the first. There is nothing that compares to the embrace of Jesus. There is no sweetness like the Gospel. There is no freedom like His friendship. There is no greater joy than sitting at His feet. There is no Father who is tender like Him. I know this stuff can be hard to believe— trust me, I do. And I know that this life can harden hearts into believing that there is no ultimate good. But I can look at you with confidence and say that I believe Him. His Word truly is life, He really does love you, and He really does know what He is doing. He is trustworthy. His will is the greatest adventure you could ever know, friend. So here’s my final plea to you: go sit at His feet. Go to Him first, go to Him quickly, and go to Him often. He is so pleased when you do.