Love One Another

There are some days in ministry when everything is light and joy.  Baptisms, engaging scripture, sharing the Lord's Supper, all suffused with the presence and grace of God.  There are some days in ministry when everything is painful and disheartening.  Conflict, misunderstanding, ultimatums, all heavy wtih the reality of human brokenness.

Unfortunately, the difficult days hook into your soul with vicious strength, making it hard to remember the joys.  With the piercing pain of these trying days come the companions of fear, self-doubt, anger and anxiety.  They pour in to me, a dark cocktail of emotion that leaves bitterness in it's wake.

On the difficult days of work, I am thankful for the former difficult days in my personal life.  Because in the darkness of the hard days, I remember the Spirit holding me close and whispering a question to me:

"What does Love look like?"

Is love the closed fist, the furitive glance, the secret communications, the selfishness, the self-centeredness?  Is love the need to win, the cruel word, the dismissive negligence, the act of exclusion?  On days such as this, when cloudy skies mirror the turmoil deep within me, I hear the Spirit whispering in the wind:

"What does Love look like?"

When the Spirit murmurs this to me, I realize that question is not just meant to apply to the people around me, but also to myself.  The writer of the Epistles of John spoke a lot about love, and stridently focused on it as a defining aspect of the Christian Faith.  "God is Love," the apostle wrote.  Ancient church tradition says that when John was very old and frail, he would be carried into the small gatherings of the faithful and all that he had the strength to say was "Little Children, Love One Another."  

If I truly believe this, that God is love, and that I am called to be a representative of that Love to not only the world but also my congregation, how should I respond?  If Love is more than acts kindness or sweetness, but is instead rooted in God, what is expected of me?

Grace.  And patience.  And dogged commitment to a gospel of reconciliation, transformation and forgiveness.

So when the days are hard, are dark, are painful, I remember what Love looks like.  And I try my damndest to speak like that, to act like that, to pray like that, to preach like that, to teach like that, to live like that.  Even when it would be so much easier to do otherwise.

Friends, what do you think Love looks like?

Confusion

I've been watching a YouTube series called the Lizzie Bennet Diaries (go here, I dare you), which is an adaptation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice as told through video-blogging.  I was surprised by how much I've loved it, especially considering how much I DIDN'T like the book.  Admittedly, I didn't catch the fact that the book was satirizing social conventions of the time period and was subversively feminist, but I walked away from the read convinced that Mr. Bennet was the only character of any worth.  This put me at odds with...most of the known universe, as P&P is considered a classic of literature and a love story for the ages.  But several weeks before Christmas, on a Friday off, I found Lizzie Bennet and watched her videos for 6 hours straight.  Seriously.

The series is coming to an end this Thursday (WAAAAH!) but last week was "Darcy-Day" when Lizzie and Darcy finally admit their love for one another and kissed.  It was passionate and lovely and I watched the video more than once.  I even texted my mom "DID YOU SEE THE NEW VIDEO?" because I wanted to share my glee with someone.  And as I'm wont to do, I promptly started to over-analyze my feelings for the show and the penultimate video.  Of course, it's satisfying to see things turn out "happily-ever-after," even if its for fictional people.   And yes, Darcy was a "good actor" (translation - SOOO CUTE!), so watching a cute guy week after week has its perks.  But then I started to consider - am I watching this episode on repeat for some other reason?  Like, perchance, that I miss this kind of lovey-dovey-intimacy and enjoy participating in a moment infused with that kind of feeling (however removed)?

My 6 year wedding anniversary is coming up in June and I am confused about these wistful feelings that I find myself bombarded by.  As a natural consequence of time gone by, would I still feel these yearnings for new romance and heated first-kisses if Cliff WASN'T in prison?  (You know, like the "7-Year-Itch.") Or are these yearnings a consequence of my long-and-despised sexual dormancy caused by Cliff's imprisonment?  I don't know if I'm supposed to take these feelings in stride as a natural, biological response or if I should be examining them more closely for implicit meanings or movements of the heart.  I have no answer for this yet, but I do know that when I watched the video for the first time I turned my head away when Darcy and Lizzie kissed.  It seemed too private to watch.

I thought, perhaps, that time would ease the pain of separation.  I thought that privation would teach my body to quit yearning for touch.  I thought that focus would prevent me from breathless longing.  But time has healed none of these open wounds.  Fortunately, however, I have learned to let the love, passion and tenderness of others (like Darcy and Lizzie) to be a balm to my wounds instead of astringent.  Just for a moment, I can rest in the bliss of love and not hurt.  That's something I'd guess; only a year ago, the joy of others was a stab in my blistered heart.  I'll give thanks, then, for the tools that time does provide me with - I'll take perspective even if I still would prefer healing.

On an unrelated note, does anybody own the Pride and Prejudice mini-series?  I've got a....friend....who's interested.