Would You Still Love Me?

What limits do you place on loving me? How far does it go?

If I mess up, would you still love me?

If I forgot your birthday, would you shun me?

If I embarrassed you, would you kick me out of the family?

If I were caught speeding, would you turn your back on me?

If I bought the wrong item at the grocery store, would you forgive me?

If we disagreed on a point of policy, would you expel me for it?

If we could not agree on interpreting a Biblical passage, would you still be my friend?

If you did not like the clothes I wore, could I still come home?

If I failed my math test, would you still be seen with me?

If I did not do my chores, would you still feed me?

If I made a mess in the living room, would you banish me from home?

If you disapproved of my marriage partner, would that end our relationship?

If I did not like your favorite book, would you still talk to me?

If I chose not to attend your church, would you write me off?

If I turned my back on Jesus, would you turn your back on me?

If I told you I heard voices you cannot hear, would you turn me away?

If I got a tattoo, would you restrict my coming over?

If I made friends with folks at the bar, would you cast me aside?

If I sang at the honky-tonk, would you still let me sing at church?

If my car were dirty, old, and rusty, could I still park in your driveway?

If my language were not prim and proper, could we still hang out?

If we disagreed on questions of science, would that kill our relationship?

If I broke the law, would you find me irredeemable?

If I told an off-color joke, would that end our friendship?

If I held racist attitudes, could we still worship together?

If I were greedy, ambitious, and driven to gain powerf, would you have nothing to do with me?

If I told you a lie, would you ignore me evermore?

If I sought refuge in illicit drugs, would you disown me?

If I gave up my job and took vows of poverty, would you think less of me?

If I killed someone, could we still be family?

If I told you I can’t stay awake for a full meal, would you believe me?

If I told you I am allergic to your favorite food, would you tell me I was lying?

If I were addicted to tobacco, would you shut me out?

If I told you I process visual cues differently, would you shut me up?

If I asked you to call me by a nickname, would you submit to that?

If I told you I’m too nervous to attend your parties, would our friendship end?

If I cheated at cards, would you refuse to talk to me?

If I told you God spoke to me, would you write me off as crazy?

If I claimed ice-water made me sick, would you try forcefully prove me wrong?

If I claimed George Washington was an android, could we still be cordial?

If I were a convicted felon, could I still come home for Christmas?

If I spent my free time torturing birds, cats, and snakes, could I still come over for dessert?

If I joined a cult, would you have nothing more to do with me?

If I trained dogs to fight, could I sit by you in the choir?

If I worked for a crooked politician, could I still attend a family funeral?

If I married outside my race, could I still teach your Sunday school class?

If I told women to be silent in church, would you declare me a heretic?

If I told men to make room for women in church, would you excommunicate me?

If I made an herb poultice, would you burn me as a witch?

If I called you out on a racist joke, would that end our friendship?

If I challenged your understanding of Jesus’ comments on wealth, would that make us enemies?

If I denounced a beloved national hero for their misdeeds, could we still be friendly?

If I told you my eyes did not work together, would you call me a liar?

If I kicked a homeless person, would that end our relationship?

If I were double-jointed, would you call me an abomination?

If I told you I’m left-handed, would you call me sinister and demonic?

If I changed my hair color, would you be offended?

If I shaved off my all hair, would you kick me out of the house?

If I wove two or more fibers together, would you call me unrepentant?

If I planted corn, beans, and squash together, would you declare me a recalcitrant sinner?

If I amassed billions in wealth, would you throw me out as an unregenerate opportunist?

If I told you I don’t fit your mold of gender, would you treat me as an inhuman monster?

If I told you I am not sexually attrackted to the opposite sex, would you call for my death?

If we dig down deep, does your love look like Jesus?



©Copyright 2024, Christopher B. Harbin 



http://www.sermonsearch.com/contributors/104427/

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Gospel Is Not Conservative

God in the Hands of Angry Sinners

Our Language of Choice