A Galatians 2:20d sermon on the personal, voluntary, substitutionary love of Christ — the fire that fuels faith, identity, transformation, and obedience.
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The Love That Fuels the Christian Life
*"Who Loved Me and Gave Himself for Me" — Galatians 2:20d*
Paul closes Galatians 2:20 with a phrase that is easy to read past and dangerous to miss. It is the final clause of a verse many believers can recite from memory, but it is not a footnote. It is the fire beneath the entire verse.
> "The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, **who loved me and gave himself for me**." > — Galatians 2:20, NIV
You can have all the right rules in place and still be spiritually cold.
You can maintain the structure, keep the routine, defend sound doctrine, attend worship, serve faithfully, avoid scandal, and still lose the warmth of affection for Christ.
That is a sobering thought.
But it is also one of the great dangers Paul confronts in Galatians.
The Christian life is not sustained by religious machinery. It is not powered by external structure alone. It is not made alive by moral resolve, disciplined habit, or law-keeping. Those things may have a place when rightly ordered, but they cannot be the engine.
A person may have the appearance of spiritual order and yet be inwardly operating from fear, guilt, pride, resentment, comparison, or sheer duty.
That kind of Christianity becomes mechanical.
Then exhausting.
Then cold.
And when Christianity becomes cold, it usually does not begin by denying doctrine. It often begins more subtly. The person still believes true things, but the truth has stopped warming the heart. The person still obeys, but obedience has become detached from love. The person still serves, but service has become a burden. The person still believes Christ died for sinners, but the wonder has faded:
> "He loved me and gave himself for me."
This final phrase in Galatians 2:20 is not a decorative ending.
It is the fire underneath the entire verse.
Paul has already said:
> "I have been crucified with Christ…"
That is union with Christ in His death.
He continues:
> "...and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me."
That is the reality of new life.
Then he says:
> "The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God…"
That is the manner of Christian living.
But then Paul tells us why faith has an object worth trusting, why obedience has warmth, why the crucified life is not sterile duty, and why the believer can live from grace rather than toward acceptance:
> "...who loved me and gave himself for me."
This is the love that compels.
Not sentimental love.
Not vague religious affection.
Not an abstract doctrine kept at a distance.
But the personal, voluntary, substitutionary love of the Son of God.
---
The Setting: Why Galatians 2:20 Matters So Much
Galatians is not a calm theological essay written for people casually interested in religious ideas.
It is a rescue letter.
Paul is writing to churches being tempted away from the sufficiency of Christ. False teachers had entered the picture and were pressing the Galatian believers toward a distorted gospel. They were not necessarily denying Jesus outright. That is what makes the danger so deceptive. They were adding to Him.
Christ plus circumcision.
Christ plus law-observance as the basis of acceptance.
Christ plus ethnic boundary markers.
Christ plus human performance.
Paul sees clearly what is at stake. If anything is added to Christ as the ground of justification, then Christ is no longer being trusted as sufficient. Grace is no longer grace. Faith is no longer faith. The gospel is no longer the gospel.
That is why Paul says later:
> "If righteousness could be gained through the law, Christ died for nothing!" > — Galatians 2:21, NIV
That sentence is severe because the issue is severe.
Paul is not attacking obedience. He is attacking the use of obedience as a ladder into righteousness. He is not dismissing holiness. He is destroying the idea that holiness can be produced by returning to the law as the engine of the Christian life.
Galatians 2:20 stands at the heart of that argument. Paul is saying:
My old life under the law as a system of self-justification is over. My former attempt to establish righteousness by religious performance has been crucified. I do not live from that old center anymore. Christ lives in me. The life I now live is lived by faith. And the One I trust is the Son of God who loved me and gave Himself for me.
That means the Christian life is not merely a shift from bad behavior to good behavior.
It is a death and resurrection.
The old "I" is crucified. Christ now lives in me. Faith is the means. Love is the fuel.
If we miss that, we will turn Galatians 2:20 into a slogan while continuing to live by the very self-effort Paul says has been crucified.
---
The Danger of a Mechanical Christian Life
A mechanical Christian life is not always obvious from the outside.
In fact, it can look impressive.
The mechanical believer may be disciplined. The mechanical believer may be dependable. The mechanical believer may be doctrinally informed. The mechanical believer may serve more than others. The mechanical believer may know the right vocabulary. The mechanical believer may avoid obvious moral collapse.
But inwardly, the engine is grinding.
Why? Because the life is being powered by something other than the love of Christ.
Perhaps it is powered by fear:
> "If I do not keep this up, God will be angry with me."
Perhaps by pride:
> "I am not like those weaker Christians."
Perhaps by guilt:
> "After all God has done, I better pay Him back."
Perhaps by reputation:
> "People expect me to be faithful."
Perhaps by control:
> "If I keep all the rules, I can manage my life."
Perhaps by habit:
> "This is just what I have always done."
These motivations may keep a person moving for a while, but they cannot produce the warmth, joy, humility, and endurance of gospel-shaped obedience.
They can produce motion.
They cannot produce life.
This is why a believer may continue doing right things while growing increasingly resentful, anxious, proud, brittle, or cold. The actions remain, but the affection has drained away.
It is possible to have the structure of marriage without tenderness. It is possible to have the structure of ministry without love. It is possible to have the structure of obedience without joy. It is possible to have the structure of doctrine without worship.
So it is possible to have the structure of Christianity while losing sight of Christ Himself.
That is why Paul's phrase matters:
> "Who loved me and gave himself for me."
The heart must be brought back to Christ's love, not as a sentimental afterthought, but as the living center of Christian identity and obedience.
---
Why We Prefer Mechanics Over Affection
The human heart often prefers mechanics because mechanics feel safer.
Rules can be counted. Routines can be tracked. External behaviors can be measured. Religious performance can be compared.
Mechanics allow us to say:
> "I did this." > "I completed that." > "I followed the plan." > "I checked the box." > "I maintained control."
There is a kind of counterfeit peace in measurable religion.
But love is different.
Love makes us dependent. Love humbles us. Love requires the heart to receive what it cannot control. Love brings us out from behind our religious machinery and forces us to stand before Christ personally.
That is uncomfortable.
It is easier to manage a system than to be mastered by grace.
It is easier to maintain a checklist than to be melted by the Son of God who gave Himself for us.
This is why many drift from affection into duty. Duty feels manageable. Love feels vulnerable. Duty can remain external. Love reaches into the heart. Duty may leave pride intact. Love crucifies pride because it reminds us that we are not self-made, self-saved, or self-sustained.
The Christian life becomes cold when we retreat from love into control.
But Paul will not let us do that.
He brings the believer back to the personal love of Christ.
---
"Who Loved Me": The Personal Appropriation of the Gospel
Paul says:
> "...who loved me..."
This is remarkable.
Paul could have said, "The Son of God loved the world." That would be true.
He could have said, "The Son of God loved the church." That would be true.
He could have said, "The Son of God loved sinners." That would be true.
But here he says:
> "He loved me."
This is not self-centeredness. This is faith.
Paul is not shrinking the gospel into selfish individualism. He is personally receiving what the gospel announces. He is not denying the breadth of Christ's love. He is applying it to himself.
There is a difference between general awareness and personal appropriation.
A person can say:
> "Christ loves sinners."
And yet remain distant.
A person can say:
> "Christ died for the world."
And yet remain unmoved.
A person can say:
> "God is gracious."
And yet never rest in grace.
But Paul says:
> "The Son of God loved me."
This matters because abstract truth does not warm the heart until it is personally received.
Bread on the table does not nourish until eaten.
Medicine in the bottle does not heal until taken.
A rescue announced from far away does not comfort the drowning man like the hand that reaches him where he is.
So the gospel must come all the way home.
The believer must be able to say, not arrogantly but humbly:
> "Christ loved me."
This is especially powerful when we remember who Paul was.
Paul had been a persecutor of the church. He had opposed Christ's people. He had been zealous in religion but blind to the Messiah. If anyone understood the emptiness of self-righteous religion, Paul did.
And yet he says:
> "He loved me."
Not merely:
> "He used me."
Not merely:
> "He forgave me."
Not merely:
> "He tolerated me."
But:
> "He loved me."
That love became the anchor of Paul's identity.
The man once driven by religious achievement is now grounded in the personal love of the Son of God.
---
The Difference Between Self-Centeredness and Gospel Appropriation
Some may object: Is it selfish to say, "Christ loved me"?
No.
It would be selfish to make yourself the center of the gospel. But it is not selfish to receive the gospel personally.
Self-centeredness says:
> "I am the center."
Faith says:
> "Christ came for sinners, and I am one of them."
Self-centeredness uses Christ to inflate the ego.
Faith receives Christ in humble need.
Self-centeredness says:
> "I deserve this love."
Faith says:
> "I am amazed by this love."
Self-centeredness turns salvation into self-importance.
Faith turns salvation into worship.
Paul's "me" does not magnify Paul. It magnifies Christ. The wonder is not that Paul is lovable in himself. The wonder is that the Son of God loved him and gave Himself for him.
The personal nature of the gospel does not make the believer proud when rightly understood. It makes the believer low, grateful, and secure.
Low because such love was undeserved.
Grateful because such love was freely given.
Secure because such love was proven at the cross.
---
What Kind of Love Is This?
The love of Christ is not mere sentiment.
It is not emotional softness. It is not generalized kindness. It is not divine politeness. It is not God having pleasant feelings toward humanity from a safe distance.
The love Paul speaks of is covenantal, sacrificial, intentional, and self-giving.
It is love that moves toward the undeserving.
It is love that acts at cost.
It is love that does not remain in heaven as an idea but enters history in the person of the Son.
This matters because the word "love" has been weakened in our world.
Sometimes love means attraction.
Sometimes love means affirmation.
Sometimes love means emotional intensity.
Sometimes love means usefulness.
Sometimes love means, "I enjoy you as long as you make me happy."
Sometimes love is reduced to sentiment without sacrifice, approval without holiness, or desire without covenant.
But Christ defines love by the cross.
> "This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us." > — 1 John 3:16, NIV
Love is not merely declared. It is demonstrated.
Paul says the same thing in Romans:
> "But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." > — Romans 5:8, NIV
God's love is not proven by our circumstances always becoming easy. It is not proven by our emotions always feeling warm. It is not proven by God giving us every outcome we desire.
God's love is proven at the cross.
That is where the believer must look when feelings fluctuate, circumstances confuse, suffering comes, and guilt accuses.
The cross says:
> "He loved me."
---
"And Gave Himself": Love Takes Action
Paul continues:
> "...and gave himself..."
The love of Christ is demonstrated in the gift of Christ.
He did not merely give advice. He did not merely give teaching. He did not merely give miracles. He did not merely give moral example. He did not merely give compassion from a distance.
He gave Himself.
This is the measure of His love.
The language points to voluntary surrender. Christ handed Himself over. He offered Himself. He gave His own life.
This is essential because, from the outside, the crucifixion looks like something done to Jesus.
Judas betrayed Him.
The religious leaders condemned Him.
Pilate sentenced Him.
The soldiers crucified Him.
The crowd mocked Him.
Rome executed Him.
Humanly speaking, Jesus was handed over by many guilty hands.
But Galatians 2:20 takes us behind the visible machinery of betrayal, politics, cowardice, and violence. Paul says the Son of God "gave himself."
That means Christ was not merely a victim of history.
He was the willing Redeemer.
Jesus Himself said:
> "No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord." > — John 10:18, NIV
This does not remove human guilt. Judas was guilty. The leaders were guilty. Pilate was guilty. The crowd was guilty. The soldiers were guilty. Our sins made the cross necessary.
But Christ's death was not forced upon Him against His will.
He gave Himself.
He did not stumble accidentally into redemption.
He did not lose control of His mission.
He did not get trapped by circumstances.
He did not become a martyr by surprise.
He willingly surrendered Himself in love.
That makes the cross not merely tragic, but glorious.
Not merely sad, but saving.
Not merely unjust — though it was unjust from the human side — but divinely purposed.
The Son of God gave Himself.
---
The Cross Was Not an Accident
The voluntary nature of Christ's death is vital for our understanding of love.
If the cross were merely an accident, it might make us sad.
If the cross were merely political tragedy, it might make us angry.
If the cross were merely the death of a noble teacher, it might inspire sympathy.
But if the cross is the willing self-giving of the Son of God, then it reveals love beyond measure.
Christ saw the cost and came anyway.
He knew the betrayal and came anyway.
He knew the mockery and came anyway.
He knew the nails and came anyway.
He knew the wrath-bearing agony and came anyway.
He knew the grave and came anyway.
He gave Himself.
This means the believer never has to wonder whether Christ was reluctant to save. The cross was not divine hesitation. It was divine love in action.
The Son did not have to be coerced into redeeming His people. He loved and gave Himself.
This is why the Christian life cannot be fueled by cold duty. At the center of our faith is not a reluctant transaction but a willing Savior.
---
"For Me": The Substitutionary Heart of the Gospel
Paul's phrase reaches its deepest clarity in the final words:
> "...for me."
Christ loved me.
Christ gave Himself.
Christ gave Himself for me.
This means substitution.
He gave Himself in my place, for my sin, under the judgment I deserved, to accomplish what I could not accomplish, to bear what I could not bear, and to secure what I could not earn.
This is where the gospel becomes unmistakably good news.
Christ did not merely die near sinners. He died for sinners.
Christ did not merely suffer as an example of courage. He suffered as a substitute.
Christ did not merely show love. He accomplished redemption.
Isaiah 53 gives us the language:
> "He was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities…" > — Isaiah 53:5, NIV
And again:
> "The LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all." > — Isaiah 53:6, NIV
The New Testament confirms this repeatedly.
Christ died for our sins.
Christ bore our judgment.
Christ offered Himself as the once-for-all sacrifice.
Christ redeemed us from the curse.
Christ reconciled us to God.
The "for me" matters because without substitution, the cross becomes only an example. And if the cross is only an example, it cannot save. It can only crush.
---
Why "Example Only" Is Not Enough
We must be careful here.
Christ's death is an example. Scripture does use the self-giving of Christ as a pattern for Christian love, humility, and sacrifice.
But it is not merely an example.
If the cross is only an example, then the message becomes:
> "Look at how much Jesus loved. Now go love like that so God will accept you."
That is not good news.
That is unbearable law.
A perfect example can show us what love looks like, but it cannot remove guilt. A perfect example can inspire us, but it cannot justify us. A perfect example can expose our selfishness, but it cannot atone for sin.
Imagine watching an Olympic athlete perform a flawless routine. You are amazed. You applaud. You are inspired. But then someone turns to you and says, "Now you must perform exactly like that or you fail."
Inspiration immediately becomes condemnation.
That is what happens if the cross is reduced to example only.
We do not merely need to be shown perfect love.
We need to be saved by perfect love.
Christ did not only die to show us how to give ourselves. He died because we had not given ourselves to God. He died because we were guilty. He died because sin required atonement. He died because justice had to be satisfied. He died because love moved Him to take the place of sinners.
The gospel is not:
> "Jesus died. Now try harder."
The gospel is:
> "Jesus died for me."
That changes everything.
---
Substitution Removes the Crushing Burden
If Christ gave Himself for me, then the crushing burden of self-salvation is removed.
I do not have to atone for my sin.
I do not have to establish my righteousness.
I do not have to pay the debt.
I do not have to carry the judgment.
I do not have to prove that I am worthy of love by religious performance.
Christ has given Himself.
That does not make obedience irrelevant. It makes obedience possible. It makes obedience a response rather than a payment.
This is the difference between slavery and sonship.
The slave obeys to avoid rejection. The son obeys from belonging.
The slave works for acceptance. The son works from acceptance.
The slave fears punishment. The son rests in love.
The slave says, "If I do enough, maybe I will be received." The son says, "Because I have been received in Christ, I now want to honor my Father."
Substitution transforms the emotional structure of obedience.
---
The Love of Christ Fuels Identity
Galatians 2:20 is deeply concerned with identity.
Paul says:
> "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live…"
The old self is no longer the controlling center. The old identity built on law, performance, sin, pride, and self-rule has been crucified with Christ.
Then Paul says:
> "...but Christ lives in me."
The believer's life is now defined by union with Christ.
But this identity becomes warm and personal through the final phrase:
> "Who loved me and gave himself for me."
Many people are trying to build identity from unstable materials.
Achievement.
Approval.
Appearance.
Moral record.
Family name.
Productivity.
Usefulness.
Intelligence.
Influence.
Religious discipline.
Control.
But all of these can collapse.
The believer's deepest identity is not built from within. It is received from Christ.
I am one loved by the Son of God.
I am one for whom He gave Himself.
I am one whose old life has been crucified with Christ.
I am one in whom Christ lives.
I am one who now lives by faith.
That identity is not fragile because it does not rest on my performance.
It rests on His love.
This is the end of both pride and despair.
Pride dies because I needed the Son of God to give Himself for me.
Despair dies because the Son of God did give Himself for me.
The cross tells me I am more sinful than I wanted to admit and more loved than I dared to hope.
---
The Love of Christ Fuels Transformation
The love of Christ does not merely comfort the believer. It transforms the believer.
Paul's argument in Galatians is not that grace makes holiness unnecessary. His argument is that only grace can produce true holiness.
Law can command, but it cannot give life.
Fear can restrain, but it cannot transform.
Guilt can pressure, but it cannot produce love.
Pride can perform, but it cannot worship.
Only the love of Christ can change the heart at its root.
When the believer sees that Christ loved him and gave Himself for him, obedience begins to change in character.
It is no longer merely duty extracted under threat. It becomes response awakened by grace.
Think of the difference between paying taxes and buying a meaningful anniversary gift.
Both require action. Both may cost money. Both may involve effort.
But one is obligation under penalty. The other is response within love.
Externally, both involve giving.
Internally, they are entirely different.
So it is with obedience.
Two people may do the same outward act. Both may serve. Both may give. Both may pray. Both may resist temptation. Both may attend worship.
But one may be paying religious taxes while the other is responding to Christ's love.
The action may look similar.
The heart is entirely different.
The love of Christ turns obedience from tax-paying into gift-giving.
---
The Love of Christ Fuels Faith
Paul says:
> "I live by faith in the Son of God…"
Faith is not faith in an abstraction. It is faith in the Son of God who loved and gave Himself.
The object of faith matters.
Faith is only as strong as the One trusted.
The believer does not live by faith in faith. The believer does not live by faith in emotional intensity. The believer does not live by faith in favorable circumstances. The believer does not live by faith in personal discipline.
The believer lives by faith in the Son of God.
And who is He?
The One who loved me and gave Himself for me.
This means the cross becomes the permanent evidence that Christ is trustworthy.
When guilt accuses, faith says:
> "He gave Himself for me."
When suffering confuses, faith says:
> "He loved me at the cross, even if I cannot understand this providence."
When temptation entices, faith says:
> "The One who gave Himself for me is better than this sin."
When obedience is costly, faith says:
> "The One who surrendered Himself for me is worthy of my surrender."
When emotions cool, faith says:
> "His love is not measured by my present feeling, but by His finished work."
Faith feeds on the demonstrated love of Christ.
That is why we must return to the cross again and again.
---
The Love of Christ and the Distant Believer
Some believers feel distant from God.
The distance may have come through sin. It may have come through neglect. It may have come through suffering, disappointment, distraction, or slow spiritual drift.
The distant believer often thinks the way back begins with frantic religious repair:
> "What must I do to make God receive me again?"
There may indeed be repentance needed. There may be confession. There may be renewed obedience. There may be hard steps to take.
But the deepest return begins not with self-punishment, but with gospel remembrance.
> "The Son of God loved me and gave Himself for me."
The distant believer does not return by earning love back. He returns because love has already been demonstrated.
The cross is not the reward for the near.
It is the rescue of the far.
So come back.
Not because your repentance purchases His love, but because His love leads you to repentance.
---
The Love of Christ and the Weary Believer
Some believers are weary.
They are not trying to rebel. They are tired.
Tired of serving.
Tired of fighting sin.
Tired of carrying burdens.
Tired of praying without visible change.
Tired of being needed.
Tired of holding things together.
Tired of trying to be faithful.
The weary believer often assumes the answer is to dig deeper. Try harder. Find more discipline. Push through.
But weariness is often a sign that the soul has been running on self-generated strength.
The weary believer needs to hear:
> "The Son of God loved me and gave Himself for me."
Christ's love is not merely the entry point into the Christian life. It is the sustaining warmth of the Christian life.
You are not sustained by the intensity of your service.
You are sustained by the love of the Savior.
This does not mean you will never be physically tired, emotionally burdened, or spiritually pressed. Paul himself knew suffering deeply. But it means you do not have to be the source.
The One who gave Himself for you will sustain you.
---
The Love of Christ and the Obedient but Joyless Believer
Some believers are obedient but joyless.
They are doing many right things, but their hearts have grown cold.
They serve, but resent it.
They obey, but feel little delight.
They show up, but inwardly sigh.
They maintain the house, but it feels like a museum, not a home.
This condition is dangerous because it often looks admirable from the outside. The obedient but joyless believer is often praised. They are dependable. They get things done. They carry responsibility. Others may assume they are spiritually healthy because they are visibly active.
But inside, the engine may be seizing.
The answer is not to abandon obedience.
The answer is to recover the love beneath obedience.
Ask:
Have I lost sight of "He loved me"? Have I turned obedience into payment? Have I begun serving to prove something? Have I replaced communion with productivity? Have I confused usefulness with intimacy? Have I become more aware of duty than grace?
The obedient but joyless believer needs the heart re-anchored in Christ's love.
Not less obedience.
Better fuel.
---
The Love of Christ and the Unbeliever
For the unbeliever, this phrase clarifies Christianity.
Christianity is not first a moral system.
It is not merely a philosophy.
It is not a club for respectable people.
It is not a self-improvement program.
It is not a call to clean yourself up so God might be impressed.
It is the announcement of a Savior:
> The Son of God loved and gave Himself.
The gospel says you need more than advice. You need atonement.
You need more than inspiration. You need rescue.
You need more than moral reform. You need new life.
Christ did not come merely to improve sinners. He came to save sinners.
He gave Himself for sin. He died. He rose. He calls you to repent and believe.
Do not settle for religious structure while missing Christ.
Come to the Savior who loved and gave Himself.
---
The Love of Christ Redefines Our Love
Once we see Christ's love, we must also allow it to redefine ours.
Love is not merely sentiment.
Love is not merely warm feeling.
Love is not merely affirmation.
Love is not merely politeness.
Love is not merely avoiding conflict.
Love is not merely enjoying someone's presence.
At the cross, love is defined as voluntary self-giving for the good of another.
That does not mean love is foolish. It does not mean enabling sin. It does not mean ignoring wisdom, truth, justice, or proper boundaries. Christ's love is holy love.
But it does mean Christian love cannot be reduced to convenience.
Christ loved by giving Himself.
So we must ask:
Am I loving others only when it is easy?
Am I serving only when noticed?
Am I forgiving only when it costs little?
Am I giving myself for the good of others, or merely maintaining a safe image of goodness?
Am I offering people an example from a distance, or am I practicing real self-giving love?
The love of Christ not only saves us.
It reshapes us.
---
The Full Movement of Galatians 2:20
The verse now comes together as one unified reality:
> "I have been crucified with Christ…"
The old self under sin, law-condemnation, and self-rule has died in union with Christ.
> "...and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me."
The Christian life is not self-improvement but indwelling life.
> "The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God…"
This new life is lived by ongoing dependence, not autonomous effort.
> "...who loved me and gave himself for me."
The faith that lives, obeys, endures, and loves is fueled by the personal, voluntary, substitutionary love of Christ.
This is the crucified life.
Not lawlessness.
Not legalism.
Not self-salvation.
Not religious machinery.
But union with Christ, life from Christ, faith in Christ, and love because of Christ.
---
Final Reflection
The question is not merely whether your Christian life has structure.
Structure matters.
Doctrine matters.
Discipline matters.
Obedience matters.
Service matters.
But none of these can replace the love of Christ.
So ask honestly:
Has my obedience become mechanical?
Has my service become exhausting?
Has my faith become cold?
Am I doing right things while losing sight of Christ Himself?
Am I trying to push the car uphill while forgetting the engine?
Have I forgotten the wonder of this sentence?
> "The Son of God loved me and gave himself for me."
Return there.
Return to the cross.
Return to the love that did not remain abstract.
Return to the Savior who did not merely command from a distance, but gave Himself in your place.
The Christian life is not fueled by cold mechanics.
It is fueled by the personal, voluntary, substitutionary love of Christ.
He loved me.
He gave Himself.
For me.
And that love compels.
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