What is Love?

So I have stayed away from the bloggy world for a while.  But I’ve thought about it, frequently.   About what I wanted to tell you and what God has been teaching me.  I just couldn’t quite articulate it.   But today I’m going to give it a whack.

We all have these expectations in our heads, wherever they come from, of what things “should” look like.  Maybe our parents taught us, or we saw it in an ad, or on television, or a neighbor modeled it for us.  Expectations of what a family is, what a successful marriage looks like, how a grown man should act, what toys girls should like, how boys should dress, what a husband does, what a wife does.  “When I grow up I’m never going to do that.”  “When I can make my own decisions, I’m doing it that way.”  Whatever that looks like to you, you’ve got an idea in your head about that sort of thing.  And maybe you know that Leave It To Beaver is not an accurate representation of what a family is in real life, but you figure it ought to be somewhere between that and the Simpsons.

Well, for most of my life I’ve had very strict concepts of what I thought things were supposed to be.  At least, how I wanted things to be for me.  I didn’t WANT to spend my life being shuttled around the world at the Air Force’s whim and told which career I was going to have and which country of whom I was supposed to be killing the members of that week.  I have no issue if YOU go out and do that stuff, you go on your merry little way, but that’s not what I want.  So of course, when I had the opportunity to do that, I tried it and said no thank you.  I also had firm ideas, if not a trifle vague, about what kind of husband I’d marry, where I’d live, whether I’d have children, how I wanted to dress.  I thought, “This is my life and I am an adult now and I get to pick.”  If I don’t want to eat collard greens or rutabagas or beets, I don’t have to.  If I don’t want to wear long flowy dresses and makeup and whatever’s “cool” right now, I don’t have to.  (We saw how well that went when I chose to succumb to peer pressure in the form of parachute pants… oh my gosh, could I not have chosen to bow to major fashion trends when chunky necklaces or cute scarves were the rage?  Why did I pick parachute pants?)  I really thought that what was right for me was just right, and screw you if you didn’t agree with it.  This was me.  (Isn’t that just charming?  I mean, really, how could you not love an attitude like that?)

Enter God and his Agenda.  Yeah, just being a new Christian I didn’t realize He has one.  When I accepted Christ and said, “God, I have no idea what I’m doing in life, but clearly I’m screwing it up, could you just take it over for me?” I thought that was more like, “God, I don’t like where this is going so could you only send me nice pleasant things from now on?  Thanks so much buh-bye.”  Yeah…. Homey don’t play that.  When you choose to give your life over to Christ He gives you the things He knows you need, not the things you think you need, and sometimes those things are wildly different. 

In the very beginning of my shiny new Christian life, I prayed, “Lord, send me a love.  Somebody good.”  I’d had relationships before, but nobody who really blew me away, nobody who I really knew was “the one.”  So I gave it up to God and said, “Lord, if you want me to be married to someone, you are going to literally have to bring him to my door because clearly I cannot pick them.”  And I left it at that, and of course I met Dallas and the rest is history.  (Maybe he would say, “and the rest is all downhill from there.”  Or “and that’s where my life spiraled completely out of control into this nightmare.”  Couldn’t say, you’ll have to ask him.)  Certainly he wasn’t what I expected.  I had in my mind that I’d fall for a guy a few years older than me (Dallas is younger), much taller (he’s only a few inches taller), with a nice career (I made more money than him for a while), probably a lot like Dad (he is and he isn’t), not necessarily a hunk but someone who didn’t have warts and horns readily apparent (he’s a hunk, he’s mine, and keep your hands to yourself).  But I knew in my heart without a shred of doubt that this was the man God wanted for me, so down the I aisle I merrily skipped, while he was none the wiser to this wild bag of emotional, hormonal, and judgmental cacophony to which he’d just hitched himself.  FOREVER.  And ever.  And ever.

As we moved along together in this life, God was teaching me ever so slowly and patiently (well maybe not patiently, I know He’s got those oh-my-gosh-will-she-never-learn-this-FINE-let’s-do-it-again moments) that His ways are not my ways.  I’ve always thought my ways were pretty good.  Not perfect, but they were MINE, and if they were mistakes, they were my mistakes.  When God tells us to love our neighbor as ourselves I thought I understood that to mean the physical nature of serving people.  Like helping the homeless, donating clothes, caring for widows and orphans, sharing the gospel, etc.  And I loved people; I loved my family and my friends and those whose company I really enjoyed, not necessarily for what they could do for me but how well I got along with them.  How nicely they treated me, how much we had in common, how well we “clicked.”  Everybody else that I either didn’t know or didn’t WANT to know was just kind of doing their own thing in life, and they were on the periphery.  Let them figure their own selves out, I’ve got enough on my plate, thanks ever so.  There was no animosity, really, just an absence of close interest.

But I have come to see the profound and tragic error of that, and remember when I said if you can’t be a shining example, then be a horrible warning?  Well, I’m your horrible warning.  Let me tell you, when God says “love them” He does not mean “love them the way you think they ought to be loved.”  He means “love them the way I love them.”  There’s a difference.  There are people in this world that I found I could. Not. Stand.  They annoyed the poo out of me and it wasn’t because they were obnoxious people, it was because they didn’t rise to the standard to which I thought they ought to adhere, given what I thought was expected, based on my experience, be it taught from snazzy advertisements, well-meaning adults, or my own narrow-mindedness.  You’re a grown man; act like it.  You’re an elected official with years of experience, why are you acting like you don’t have to obey the same rules we all do?  You’re a wife and a mother and this is how you should be expected to behave in this setting, so why are you not?  You’re a perfectly intelligent coworker with a college degree, why are you not understanding this concept that is so clearly laid out before you?  You’re in customer service, for pete’s sake, why are you not just bubbling over with joy at the anticipation of serving this morose and ungrateful line of patrons before you?  Want me to respect you?  Do something worthy of respect and then we’ll see about it.

Seriously is that not just a delightfully charming perspective?  Who would NOT want to be my close and personal friend?  Yes, when you lay it out like that it sounds just exactly about like what it is; pure, unadulterated snottiness.  I liked what I liked and whatever I didn’t like I had no use for.  Just go away, I’m busy living my life over here.  I had such derision for people who did not act the way I thought they should, based on what my perception was.  In some cases to the point of unbridled hostility, and while I shudder to admit that, now I see it for what it was.   God truly convicted me of this, and I prayed, “Lord, help me love them the way you love them.  Help me see what you see.”

People, I have missed so much, for so long, and it breaks my heart.  By focusing on what people were NOT, I missed what they ARE.  I missed who God made them, with His clear intentions and perfect plan.  When I worked at the homeless shelter, I ceased to see people who had deliberately made unfortunate choices in life, who’d succumbed to temptations and hurt themselves in the process, and I saw THEM.  I saw people who’d been mistreated, who’d been weak, who’d endured hardship and unkindness and yet were still getting up each day ready to face whatever comes next.  People who weren’t afraid to be humbled and admit they’d screwed up and needed Jesus in their lives.  People in whom I invested because I truly cared about their story, their wants and needs, their hurts, these people that God made EXACTLY THIS WAY ON PURPOSE and that God had allowed to go through who knows what horrors, just to teach me a lesson in love.  I began to see what a prideful wench I was, and how much I had missed out on.

Do you ever fold laundry and leave it in nice piles to be later taken to drawers and closets?  Do you ever see trash cans full of trash, ready to be taken out and dumped?  Dishes ready to be washed, lawns ready to be mowed, steps ready to be swept?  Boys can’t.  I’m telling you, this is a uniquely female thing, to be able to see a dishwasher full of clean dishes ready to be emptied.  They also don’t see dirty floors or socks that need to go in the hamper.  The little pile of dried jelly on the counter?  Completely invisible.  The dry laundry on the line, ready to be brought in?  Purely there for ornamental reasons, and isn’t it lovely, wafting there in the breeze?  Children and teenagers also possess this unique blindness, this ability to remain completely unaware of the blatantly obvious things that need to be done around the house.

When we were newly married, and for a long time after, I held this blindness firmly against Dallas with a mighty hand and not-so-gently encouraged him to change this inescapable quality about himself, which clearly he’d developed intentionally purely as a way to torture my type-A tendencies, with all the compassion and understanding of Thor whacking with a hammer bluntly about the head and neck.  Let me tell you how this did nothing but confuse and stun the poor boy, who could not understand why his usually kind and loving wife (heh) would throw a rod and spiral into a meltdown over a pile of laundry.  It’s laundry, not a toxic waste spill.  I’ve learned that he just doesn’t see it.  Only girls see things like this; other women have confirmed my hypothesis.  Ask him or the kids lovingly, “Would you mind putting the clothes away or washing the dishes?” and they do it immediately and with a song in their hearts (kinda).  Maybe not that far, but not begrudgingly and not with the malice they might otherwise have toward me had I bullied them into it.  The difference is that I began to see him as he is, not how I wanted him or expected him to be.  Of course I see something that needs to be done and so I do it, doesn’t everybody?  Well, no.  They don’t.  Because God made them different from me, with qualities so perfectly unto themselves as to make them wholly unique and to be treasured.  Do I treasure this laundry-blindness in my husband and children?  Not necessarily, but I accept it.  They aren’t oblivious to the things I think are vitally important, purely in their malevolent intentions to annoy me and make my head spin 360 degrees; they’re just not always on my wavelength because THEY’RE NOT ROBOTS.

God has made each of us just exactly the way he wants us.  Teachable, malleable, unique, wonderful masterpieces of biology, whom He knew before He formed us.  Our life experiences have shaped us, but nothing comes to us that hasn’t touched the hands of God first, and God works everything for good, even the awful things of which you think nothing good could possibly come.  Did Leah, or Jesse, or David know that the SAVIOR OF THE WORLD was going to come from their lineage?  Well, probably not; they certainly weren’t around to see it.  But He did.  God had a unique purpose for their lives that was unlike anyone else’s in the history of time.  Did Leah have this chewing problem where she sounded like a cow masticating a sticky pile of cud when she ate?  Maybe.  Did Jesse pick his nose and wipe it on his shirt right in middle of pleasant conversation?  I don’t know.  David screwed up righteously, repeatedly, and with abandon.  And yet God made them all just how He wanted them, and used them for His glory.

I have missed the beauty of each person’s uniqueness in my life.  I have not loved them the way God loves them, and I regret it profoundly.  Don’t let this be you.  Have they sinned against you?  Forgive them as He forgave us.  Don’t just forgive their sins against you, FORGET THEM.  That’s what God chooses to do with our sins; He very purposefully forgets them.  He knows what they are just as well as we do; He just chooses to forget them, to erase them and let them go (LET IT GOOOO, LET IT GOOOO…. Elsa moment).  Don’t just look at people, SEE them.  Look at the wonderful qualities they have that God has placed within them, instead of focusing on what you think they’re missing.  Are they the most brilliant of creatures, the most socially pleasant and accommodating?  Probably not but neither are you (face it).  Are they far too dependent, far too oblivious, far too selfish for their own good?  I’d be willing to bet you can be a wee bit tad selfish as well. 

Really look at the waitress next time.  She’s somebody’s mother, sister, or daughter.  Yes, she might have every square inch of her body covered in tattoos and piercings, but God made her and He loves her.  Look at the customer service person next time you go shopping.  Is she a royal snot-and-a-half and would you like to poke her in the eye with a fiery torch?  Yes.  And she probably deserves it for not letting you use two coupons in the same transaction (I’m lookin’ at you, Michael’s).  But God made her and He wants to redeem her, and if you don’t show her Jesus she may never see Him.  Can Dallas not see a pile of laundry until it’s sat there a week?  No, he cannot.  But he has a million beautiful songs in his head, he understands things about politics I can’t or don’t care to, he loves flowering plants and trees and knows exactly where they’re going to go best, he loves his children with all that he is, he is the only one on this earth who is going to love me even as rotten as I am, and GOD CHOSE HIM FOR ME.  Therefore, I’m going to cut the boy some slack and ask him lovingly if he’ll put that laundry away for me.  I’m going to respect him as the head of our family and support him in the choices he makes even if I don’t always agree with him.  I’m going to submit to him in the way God intended wives should do, not by blindly accepting every decision he makes with ignorance and a lack of interest and fine-do-it-your-way-but-I-don’t-like-it, but by presenting him my opinion, my thoughts, and my advice in a loving way, speak up when I think he’s wrong, and not leave him to flounder by himself… but then TRUST HIM to make the best decision for our family and allow him to lead it.  I’m going to pray for him and love all the parts of him, forgiving the parts that rub me wrong. I’m going to tell him how I feel about things, not let them fester inside and grow into resentment.  Talking is hard.  Admitting you screwed up, you’re wrong, you’re unkind, you’re just as much as fault… it sucks.  No, it SUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKSSSS.  But it’s necessary and it’s what God always wants us to do, to ask for forgiveness when we screw up, to love our neighbor just as he is, and to forgive when others screw up.  It’s not easy, it’s humbling, it’s embarrassing, it’s against your better judgment as far as self-preservation of the ego goes.  Will I always get it right and have the right response to people?  Nope, I will consistently over-react, under-react, be selfish, be petty, be a snot.  But then I have to say I’m sorry, and ask for forgiveness, and truly try to love as God loves.  I’ll never really get there, but that’s what God has asked us to do while we’re on this earth, and nothing else.  He didn’t say “judge this sin worse than that one and treat this person accordingly,” He said “love them.”  He didn’t say “By your actions show this person the error of his ways so that he will realize he’s a blithering idiot and act completely different to please whatever ludicrous expectation you have in your head about how he’s supposed to act,” He said “love him the way I love him.” 

I’ve missed so much and I can’t get it back.  I can’t take back hurtful words I’ve said in anger, or dirty looks, or the way I’ve treated people unkindly.  I can’t erase the fact that I didn’t forgive them their slights against me and forget their sins when I should have, and I held on to the hurt.  All I can do is what God asks of us – say I’m sorry, ask for forgiveness from those I’ve hurt, repent, and ask God to help me love them.  If I ever made you feel less than you were, or not good enough, or not just exactly what you were meant to be, I’m sorry.  Please forgive me.  There, you can use that, you don’t even have to come up with your own.  You can write it down if you can’t speak it.  You can say it in the dark where you don’t actually have to look them in the eye.  You can write it in icing on a cookie cake to make absolutely sure they see it.  But the people that God has brought into and out of your life, even for a nanosecond, God made them and he loves them.  He wants you to love them too, and in order to do that you have to see them as the wonderful, purposed creations they are.  They aren’t here to lick the peanut butter knife and put it back in the jar because they know that will completely wig you out (not to say I know anybody who does this; I’m just sayin’).  They aren’t here to ask you repeatedly what you just said because they know that will drive you insane and make you want to whack them with the nearest blunt and/or pointy object.  They don’t strew their dirty clothes around the house purely in a calculated mission to make your OCD buttons blink red at a panicky tempo.  Love them for the disorganized and germ-laden person they are and hire a maid.  Does she have this annoying tendency to not get ready until the last possible second and make you late to every function you have ever been to or will ever attend (read: not me.  Maybe.)?  Tell her you have to leave half an hour before you really do and get on with life.  He can’t find his own butt with both hands and a flashlight?  Draw that boy a map and LET IT GO.  He’s that way.  Barring a lab accident that may also have the effect of changing him into a supervillain, at this point he isn’t going to change.  He is what he is, now love him for what he is and forgive him for what he isn’t, and move the heck on.

Do I mean that for people whose husbands are abusive, or whose wives spend every dime they make with reckless abandon, or whose parents are alcoholics and drug addicts?  Love them for the whack-jobs they are and leave them to go to Hell in a handbasket or similar containment device?  No.  Use your brain, that’s what God gave it to you for.  Use social services, ask for help, go to counseling, get exercise, eat right, make a move.  Toxic relationships have no place in a healthy life. Don’t just sit there and accept it and endure it.  But oh, don’t MISS it.  Don’t miss loving the people God brings into your life.  Make today your turning point and ask God to help you; you can’t do it on your own.

So that is your horrible warning for the day, my friends.  From the bottom of my biscuit to yours.