It’s today’s verse ya’ll!
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Ain’t no way the Good Lord done stuffed us full o’ fear — He went and gave us plumb power, a big ol’ heap o’ love, and a clear-as-a-bell noggin. So hitch up yer britches and stand tall — faint-hearted ain’t in our family recipe.
Listen here, young’uns: don’t just flap yer gums ’bout lovin’ — that ain’t worth spit. Show folks with deeds, not jest yer tongue. If ya wanna be a proper neighbor, git off yer porch, lend a hand, and be honest as a hound with fleas. That’s love, clear as moonshine.
God done plumb showed His love — He sent His one-and-only young’un down yonder into this here mess so we could git livin’ through Him. Ain’t nothin’ fancier than that kind o’ kindness.
Jesus sez, “Love the Lord with all yer heart, soul an’ noggin — every last lick o’ ya. That’s the big’un. Next one? Love yer neighbor like you’d love yer own hide.”
Reckon we love ‘im good an’ proper — ’cause he done fell fer us first. Like a pawpaw pullin’ a stray pup outta the mud, he went first, so we answer with our hearts. Bless his boots; we love ‘im right back.
Well, bless it — the Big Man upstairs, plum full o’ mercy an’ crazy ’bout us, done whooped life back into us with His kin Jesus, even when we was stone-cold dead in our own mess. Ain’t ’cause o’ nothin’ we done — ’twas pure grace what saved us.
Love don’t leave no room for frettin’. True, plum-perfect love shoos fear off like a hound after a rabbit — ’cause fear’s about gittin’ whooped. Whoever’s still skeered ain’t learned love’s full measure yet.
Don’t need a mess o’ rules: don’t be cheatin’, don’t be killin’, don’t be stealin’, don’t be lyin’, don’t be hankerin’ after your buddy’s stuff. All that boils down to one — love your neighbor like you love your mama. Love ain’t gonna hurt nobody; that’s the law done right.
Cover a feller’s whoops and you’re lookin’ for love; yap it again and you’ll split up tight pals quicker’n a squirrel scamperin’ from a coonhound.
Listen up, kinfolk: if the Big Boss up yonder loved us so durn much, we best love each other right back. Ain’t nobody ever seen Him. When we love one another, He moves into our hearts and His love gets all settled and real.
I swear on my granny’s cast-iron skillet: none o’ it — death, life, angels, devils, now, later, up on the ridge or down in the hollow, nor no power — can yank us loose from Jesus’ love.
Who in tarnation kin pry us from the Good Lord’s love? Be it trouble, heartache, persecution, hunger, no britches, close calls, or swords — naw. Through Him that loves us, we’re more’n conquerin’ varmints, whoopin’ n’ grinnin’ all the way.
