Love Part III

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.