Love

If ever a word was overused and misunderstood, it's one greatly noised about during the Christmas season--love. We "love" chocolate. We "love" to shop. We love this, that, or the other. What we should really say is that we have an affinity for chocolate or that we enjoy this or that activity.

Real love is a pretty heavy subject that shouldn't be bandied about like a lumberjack's flapjacks. In fact, Scripture tells us that "love is as strong as death" (Song of Solomon 8:6). In God's economy, real love is forever. As in, God is love (I John 4:8). God is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). The conclusion? God=eternal; love=eternal. I hate to break it to you, but if you "fell out of love," you either fell prey to a lie from the devil ("You don't love them anymore!") or what you were feeling was not love (perhaps something more along the lines of lust?). Love might begin as a feeling, but as it grows to maturity it becomes more of a purposeful decision, one from which there is no turning back, just as one does not come back from death.

Among the many poems about love, a fascinating subject even among non-believers, one in particular comes to mind. Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnet 43. It begins with a rewording of Ephesians 3:17-19 (no wonder it's her most well-known work--it borrows from the divine!). The scripture passage itself reads, "...that ye ... may be able to comprehend ... what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height,' and to know the love of Christ ..." Verse 19 goes on to clarify why we need to know all the facets of the love of Christ, "that ye might be filled with all the fullness of God." Paul is telling us that in order to be filled with God-ness, we must first understand His love, that which is His essence. Back to Browning's Sonnet 43. In lines 5-6 Browning gives a snapshot of a love that reflects the divine:

"I love thee to the level of every day's

Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight."

That is the essence of real love: it doesn't consist just of the "biggies," but rather of the many little things, the ordinary daily things that make up life.

Psychologists tell us that marriages don't usually crumble from one event (though it might exacerbate the crumbling or act as the straw that broke the camel's back). Rather, they fall apart little by little, from the eating away of the marital fabric by a myriad of small "inconsequential" things. Song of Solomon says, "... the little foxes ... spoil the vines" (S of S 2:15). Conversely, it is the little things that shore up a marriage, that lay a framework for unshakeable love.

What does that kind of love look like? Maybe a look at how the Good Shepherd handles things sheds light on some of the specifics . . .

In Psalm 23 we read, "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures." The Good Shepherd knows His sheep need good fodder and He seeks it out for them. Translated into our daily life, the teacher at school looks for the best ways in which to teach a concept; a mother works into the late night hours to provide what her family needs; a husband works willingly, sacrificially, with his hands to make sure his family is provided for. That is love. Not just a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Disneyland, but the steady every-day sacrifices that say, "I value you, I know what you need and I will move Heaven and earth to get it for you."

That same verse in Psalm 23 says of the Good Shepherd, "he leadeth me beside the still waters." The Good Shepherd knows that sheep are covered with wool. Moving water, as opposed to still water, is more prone to splash up on them, wet their wool, make it heavy, and cause them to drown. Because of that, sheep are innately fearful of moving water. The Good Shepherd recognizes their fears and doesn't belittle them. Instead, He looks until He finds still water, water that doesn't provoke fear, and that is where He leads His sheep. His words and His actions are kind.

Believe it or not, I knew a sweet, wonderful man who did not live this with his wife. Instead of gently explaining to her his wants with regards to the composition of his food, he threw the soup bowl against the wall. With the soup in it. Would the Good Shepherd have done such a thing, allowed anger to provoke an action so startling that His little ewe was reduced to fearful shaking and trembling? (And yes, that marriage eventually suffered a great fracture.)

On the other hand, I know a woman who, as a young girl, was devastated when her father slammed out of the house in a fit of anger. His parting words trailed behind him, "It's never any fun to come home anymore!" The little girl had not been the catalyst for the stormy departure, but she decided to do all in her power to make home pleasant for her father. From that day forward, she would literally watch for him to come home from work, meet him at the door with his slippers, bring him water once he was settled in his recliner. Till the day he died, he never again stormed out of the house or repeated those angry, heart-piercing words. Little things, big results.

In this season when we celebrate the coming of the God of Love, let's take a cue from Him and examine our hearts. Whom do we love? Are we loving them like the Good Shepherd does? What are "small" things (which are really the big things!) that we can do to show that love?

Let's go shower this world with love. Real love. Not selfish lust, not changeable cravings, but a firm decision of real love--even when the recipients try our patience and project unlovable traits--and keep on loving, like Jesus, in the small things as well as the big.

Though the Samaritan woman at the well seemed to have a snarky attitude, Jesus kept at her till she "got" it. Reaching out in the small things ain't always easy, but the results are out of this world.

"Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy (the joy of receiving us unto Himself) that was set before him endured the cross ..." (Hebrews 12:2).