Too often, I stumble through this life proclaiming the title ‘Christian’, but forget why I do. In the back of my mind, without fail, is the underlying reason: because I love Jesus. But how often do I stop and actually think about why I love Jesus?

When I think about my husband, I know why I love him. I go throughout my days and I see new reasons, or am reminded of old reasons, and I’ll stop and think to myself, ‘yes, that’s why I love that man.’ Sadly, and ashamedly, I can go days or weeks without stopping and saying, ‘yes, that’s why I love my Savior.’ Today, I am putting that to bed. I am going to pause, daily, and reflect on why I love my Jesus, and why I have chosen to submit my life to Him. May I offer you two such reasons today?

The first comes from Mark 15:12-14:

Pilate answered and said to them again, “What then do you want me to do with Him whom you call the King of the Jews?” So they cried out again, “Crucify Him!” Then Pilate said to them, “Why, what evil has He done?” But they cried out all the more, “Crucify Him!”

I love my Jesus because He stood there. Because He stood, bravely, before a large crowd who relentlessly shouted that He should be murdered. He stood, as a spectacle, before the ones He’d created and listened as they cried and wailed that He should die. He stood there, hearing the intents of their hearts and reading their thoughts, as their words reflected the ugliness inside. And He stood, knowing the verdict, knowing the ending, and selflessly gave Himself up to the sentence.

This savage and bloodthirsty crowd could not and would not be satisfied until they saw the blood of Jesus running down His face, back, and arms. They would not be satisfied until the final breath escaped His body and they could shout a victorious cry up to the heavens. And Jesus knew. My Jesus knew. He knew what they wanted and He knew what they would do. He knew the pain and agony He would experience; why else did He sweat blood the night before? Still, He stood there. He watched as they welcomed a convicted criminal back into their open arms so that He, though He’d done nothing wrong and everything to save, would die a shameful, humiliating, excruciating pain upon a rugged cross.

The second reason I love my Jesus comes from Luke 23:34:

Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.”

I love my Jesus because He spoke for me. So often, we take these words for granted and don’t let the full impact fill our minds. First, Jesus spoke on behalf of all sinners, but especially the ones directly in front of Him. He asks God the Father to forgive these people for torturing Him; for humiliating and mocking Him. For spitting on Him, for rejecting Him, for hating Him. Even after all they’ve done, He pities them, and longs for them to be in heaven with Him one day. How can you not love someone with a heart like that? How can you not love someone who had no sin of His own, yet loved these people who put Him there enough to die a criminal’s death? My Jesus suffered so much, and still He loved those who hated Him.

In the second place, though, and perhaps a more heart-wrenching detail is that Jesus spoke at all. Jesus had been up all night; He’d been slapped around, spit upon, and had a crown of thorns beaten into His head. He’d been scourged–literally had His back torn to shreds by Roman soldiers trained to inflict the most pain possible. He’d had nails, literal nails, driven into one hand, then another, then His feet. And He’d been positioned upon that cross so that He couldn’t speak–couldn’t breathe–without pushing down on those nails in His feet and pulling up on those nails in His hands. It is within this context that Jesus speaks…and asks that the sins of the world be pardoned. Notably, this is the first of Jesus’ seven sayings upon the cross. The first. He doesn’t cry out because of His own anguish. He doesn’t speak on His own behalf at all. Instead, the first thing Jesus does is inflict more pain so that He can show us, tell us, just how much He loves us.

How can I not love this Jesus? How can I not love the One who died that cruel death for me? How can I not give my entire life, no matter the sacrifice, into His service? How can you not?