Celebrating Passover with family we remember the plagues and miracles that led to the Israelite slaves being freed from Egypt, saying Da-yenu (it would have been enough) as we recount the many blessings and overabundances of God toward His people, dipping a finger in grape juice and blotting it onto a saucer; ten times, ten plagues.
Jesus saved me. Saved us.
Saves me from sin; paid the price, conquered evil, shed innocent blood for guilty me, gave me life eternal, heaven's paradise, promise of a secure future.
He saves me from fear. He leads me into peace; erases the nightmares, the panic, the worry, the me tormenting me and replaces it with calm, relaxed hope, leads me to trust.
He saves me from desperate control, my futile longing for life to happen my way; He shows me that He gets it, that He knows, understands, cares and has a better way.
He saves me from sadness, rescues my critical thoughts, my self-judgements, my unsure footing; He gives me a new song, a song of joy, praise, gratitude, worth. Value.
He writes me a love letter. Sixty-six books of intricate, detailed, passionate expressions of His unearned, unexpected, surprising love toward me, saving me from figuring out how, why, where alone. He promises to always be, to always be near, to always be here, to always be speaking, reminding, teaching, repairing, helping.
Any one of the ways God has shown His love toward me would have been enough. But the list of blessings is endless.