It is no secret that I'm not a huge fan of the song "Reckless Love." That's a soap box I could stand on for hours, defining terms and breaking down how we can't allow our preference for a catchy tune to allow us to embrace what is, at best, shaky theology. I could quote Scriptures and cite evidence after evidence demonstrating that God's love is anything but reckless, and I have done so to exhaustion many times in the past. (I have refrained from doing so on this website, mainly because people's defenses of the song are largely emotional in nature, and so I would prefer to have a face-to-face conversation with them.)

It's no secret that I'm not a fan of the song, but it wasn't until my father passed away last week that I truly began to process the practical ramifications of such shaky theology. Prior to last week, my opposition to calling God "reckless" was more so a result of zeal for correct doctrine and sober worship; now, however, my opposition is from the stance of someone whose present hope and present joy is rooted firmly in the fact that God is not reckless. If I am wrong, my hope, my joy, and my peace is built on a house of cards, and my faith is in vain.