There’s an expression I’ve come to disdain. It’s one that rarely seems used in a positive way: Who cares?

When we say, “Who cares?” it’s generally because of the following:

• We want someone to say, “I care!” – “I’m really sad right now, but who cares?”
• We want someone to feel that what he or she is doing doesn’t merit our attention, praise, or even acknowledgment. – “I got an A on my research paper!” “Who cares?”
• We feel defeated before we’ve even begun. – “I need to complete this project, but it won’t win the prize, so who cares?”
• We think that because our problem is “small” (compared to someone else’s), it doesn’t matter. – “He said he’s not in love with me anymore. But…who cares?”

And the list could go on and on, both from the side of the “uncaring” listener and from the side of the speaker who wants someone to care but is so accustomed to an uncaring response that the individual wishes that he or she no longer cared.

I confess that I’ve had times, days, moments of feeling like no one cared or like I really didn’t care about what others were saying, doing, achieving, sharing. Don’t judge or pity. You’ve been there before too. I know you have. It’s called pride, and it’s in all of us at some point or another.

So this morning, when I gave ear to “the evil ick” (aka the devil) and ended up feeling oh so alone and unwanted (I’m fine, no e-mails with the address of your therapist are needed at this time!), I spent time in some serious carpet-smelling prayer, pouring out my heart to my Creator.

I got up from my prayer, dried my eyes, and grabbed my father’s Bible for some time in the Psalms. Now don’t think I’m being all mystical. What happened next wasn’t my father’s doing. I firmly believe he’s so intent on forever worship of God that he’s not distracted by earthly relationships. But I do believe God used something my father had written out at some point in time and allowed it to speak to my need today.

When I opened the Bible, a little 4 x 6 card fell out with the following hymn written in my father’s beautiful, meticulous handwriting:

Does Jesus care when my heart is pained
Too deeply for mirth or song,
As the burdens press, and the cares distress,
And the way grows weary and long?

Does Jesus care when my way is dark
With a nameless dread and fear?
As the daylight fades into deep night shades,
Does He care enough to be near?

Does Jesus care when I’ve tried and failed
To resist some temptation strong;
When for my deep grief there is no relief,
Though my tears flow all the night long?

Does Jesus care when I’ve said “goodbye”
To the dearest on earth to me,
And my sad heart aches till it nearly breaks—
Is it aught to Him? Does He see?

Refrain:
Oh, yes, He cares, I know He cares,
His heart is touched with my grief;
When the days are weary, the long nights dreary,
I know my Savior cares.

So to answer the question that I dread to be guilty of saying and that I dread to hear when I open my heart to share what is there—Who cares?—the last line of the refrain says it best and says it with confidence: “I know my Savior cares!”