My girlfriend will sometimes say, “I’m already in my blankets. I can’t do that.”
And my immediate thought is, surely I’m worth more to you than two extra minutes of warmth?
Not because the blankets matter. It’s because in that moment, I’m comparing myself to the thing she’s choosing over me.
Then it hit me.
Is that how we treat Jesus?
Surely He is worth more than two hours of scrolling reels.
Surely He is worth more than that YouTube video that I know I didn’t need to watch.
Surely He is worth more than the comfort, convenience, and distractions that constantly win my attention.
The thing is, it is rarely about the thing itself. The reels aren’t the problem. The blankets aren’t the problem. The question is what wins when there is a choice to be made.
I think that’s often how God works.
The thing you want to hold on to most dearly is often the very thing He asks you to surrender—not because He needs it, but because He wants to know whether you love Him more than that thing.
Relationships are expressed through choices.
If I can feel disappointed over something as trivial as blankets, what about Christ, who cares about my eternity and desires my salvation?
If I can think, surely I’m worth more than two minutes of warmth, then surely Christ can ask, am I not worth more than this distraction, this comfort, this habit?
The things we struggle most to let go of often reveal what we value most.
Maybe that’s why God sometimes puts His finger on the very thing we want to keep. Not because He wants to take it away, but because He wants to know whether it has taken His place.
Jealous God.
Jealous Tanaka.
