I've
been thinking a lot about the love of God this summer. Looking
up Bible verses that talk about love, writing them down in my
journal, thinking hard about what the words really mean. What
does it really mean that the God of the Universe loves me? And
how does that love change things?
I
was listening to a Christian radio program on my way home from work
not long ago. A woman, a missionary I think, was talking about
reaching out to people with the love of God. She talked about
the verse in II Corinthians that says: "For Christ's love
compels us us because we are convinced that one died for all, and
therefore all died. And He died for all, that those who live should
no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was
raised again" (II Cor. 5:14,15). She knew the love of God.
She had experienced it for herself and it changed her. Christ's love compelled her to spend her life investing in
people, sharing the Gospel with them, loving them. My thoughts
on love began to take a different angle.
The
next day, I was on my way to my nephew's first birthday party.
Doing some freeway praying. Lately, I've sort of developed a
new habit. Most mornings, during my time with God, I'll write a
prayer in my journal that goes something like this: “God, I lay
down my expectations. Turn my heart towards gratitude, towards trust
in You. I open my hands to receive love from Yours in any way you
choose to give it.” Singleness. Deferred hope. Some way, somehow,
love from His hand.
In
place of those expectations, in place of those dusty dreams, where
there has been sorrow and confusion and disappointment, I lay them
down to make room for something else.
Redirect
my heart.
I was thinking about what the woman said about how Christ's love compels us and I was thinking about long singleness and a redirected heart. These are the words that came
out of my mouth: “God, give me the capacity...to know the love of
Christ...”
I
stopped. Tears in eyes. Seeing something crystal clear that had been
nothing but blurry for years. “God, give me the capacity to know
the love of Christ that passes knowledge that I may be filled with
the fullness of God.” My life verse. The one I chose
when I was a teenager.
My whole life, I've wanted nothing as much as I've wanted to know that love. Experience it for myself. Feel loved by the God of the Universe. He's teaching me love in unexpected ways. Ways I wouldn't have chosen. Ways higher than mine.
It's
like coming full circle. I'm back where I started, all those years
ago, asking Him to let me know, grasp and understand His love for
myself. He's answering my prayer of so many years, just
differently than I thought. Through teaching me to lay down
expectations. Through deferred hopes and dreams collecting
dust. He's actually answering my prayer in the very best
way. It
isn't what I thought. It doesn't look like what I thought it would
look like. It's Love, yes. Perfect and complete all by itself. Love that always looks outside of itself, that can't help but change forever everything it touches.
So
how does the love of God change things? Change me? God, may the
love of Christ compel me to meet a new person at church on Sunday
when I feel shy and introverted. May the love of God compel me to get
out of bed when my alarm goes off instead of hitting the snooze
button so that I'll have time to spend with You before work. May the love
of Christ compel me to trust you when my heart feels broken. And so much more.
Ultimately, my story of striving, singleness, my story of love--it comes down to trusting the heart of the Father. The relentless,
tireless, tender love of Him. Today. Tomorrow. In all the little,
insignificant moments that make up a lifetime. And here's the thing
about His love: it can't be contained. If I know it, if I really do,
it will fill me and seep out of me, spill over onto the length of my
shadow and everything in its space.
