A CRAZY THING CALLED LOVE
If in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure, then... [pass] into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.—Kahlil Gibran
I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. My heart pounds and my stomach churns. I’ve lost weight. I cry everyday. I am happy one moment and in despair the next. I’ve been pacing the neighborhood like a madwoman. I can’t concentrate on my studies. I am filling pages and pages in my journal.
It must be love.
No, there is no handsome suitor on the scene!—despite Pippin’s best efforts.
I mean the agape love, the Christian love, which the King James Bible quaintly calls ‘charity.’ I memorized I Corinthians 13 last year and review it every week. I’ve been reciting ‘charity suffereth long’ with a little more insight.
Many years ago, I had trouble loving one of my siblings. I was lying in bed crying because I hated so much. I whispered aloud my prayer: ‘God, I want to love him, but I have no love. You have to give the love to me.’ In the strangest sensation I’ve ever had, a warmth immediately descended and spread over my body like a golden light. I was immediately quieted, and found that I loved. It was wonderful and inexplicable, and I still thank God for it.
I share this story because it did more than anything else to help me understand that I can always love. God’s love is endless, and he will give me all I need.
When working in a classroom last year, I made a special connection with a particular boy. He was a delightful and quietly affectionate child, but very lonely and unhappy. We had a special friendship that we shared in the classroom and on the playground.
I was so excited to see him this year, and his smile was huge when we first met. But over the next few days I began to see changes in his demeanor that made me heartsick. He was hurting so much from the divorce that had ripped his family to raw shreds.
Love hurts. Love hurts a lot.
I went home everyday and cried. There was so little I could do, and I wanted to do everything for him. I was not his parent, I was not his teacher, I was not a counsellor. I spent as much time as I could with him, but it seemed so little. It seemed like nothing.
I envied Catholics and Jews the idea that grace could be earned, even for others. I wanted so much to earn happiness for this boy. I begged God to let me do anything. After many tears and prayers, God gave me peace to rest in his love for this child and in the freedom of God’s own grace.
But I still wanted to pay somehow. So God gave me a love that would cost.
A multi-family event almost ended in a debacle when one family disagreed with the way I was organizing the event. A series of misunderstandings came to light, that led to cold, circular arguments by email.
‘I had no idea,’ I told my family in the midst of this, ‘what I was talking about when I prayed God for clarity and graciousness for that business meeting.’
It has not been easy to love people when I feel unappreciated and attacked by them. But if I Corinthians 13 teaches us anything, it’s that love is not a fluffy, warm thing surrounded by a border of hearts and roses.
Love is dirty and messy and real and tangible, like washing feet.
‘Charity suffereth long and is kind’ anyway. It doesn’t mean letting people walk all over you, which is the tendency of this retiring and non-confrontational introvert. But it does mean being as gracious and winsome as possible when differences arise, even when I am hurt and angry—because it’s not about me and my feelings, but about allowing Christ to make himself manifest through the love and unity of his followers.
And that has been a challenge for me. Lots of dishes and floors are being scrubbed here. :-)
This entry was written several months ago, and I finally decided to post it.
• Sometimes I am as grumpy as Paul in this painting. ‘Jesus, let me do some of the washing! I’ll wash everyone’s feet! Let me do it!’ •
November 26, 2013