Apr 2013
Like a low hanging branch, or the sound of a gunshot, the thought startles me and seizes my attention:
"What if I'm MEANT to be still, hungry and tired most of the time?"
It makes sense if you think about it for more than a few seconds:
"If I'm made to love with a sacrificial love, then no matter the amount of a thing I possess, I will give more than I can afford and trust God to replace what I need."
If I only ever give to the beloved from my excess, from my "extra", what does this say about the quality of my love? The beloved will only receive what I do not keep for myself.
Cheap.
But if I give from deep within my personal stores, from that which sustains me, it shows an entirely different kind of love. It says that the beloved matters more than my own entertainment, comfort and rest.
Dangerous.
Dig as deeply as you wish in most human hearts; lift the heavy blankets and layers of fabric, the stacks of wet newspaper, moldy photo albums, jewelry, old ticket stubs, stained sheets and once worn bride's maid dresses...cast aside the ribbon-bound greeting cards, the scribbled promises and panting pleas, and you will find beneath it all something cheap: love extended from personal excess.
But look no further than the quiet servant, to the one whose name no one knows, and there before you, without guile, disguise or adornment, without shame, motive, nuance or intricacy, burns a glaring love. Fueled by the mystery of the Great Other, relentless in its devotion to the beloved, all consuming:
Dangerous.
"If the Great Other does not replenish my stores....I will die. To love another with sacrificial love then, is simply to trust the Great Other."
I become the conduit for love which flows in from outside the clamoring, panicky and CHEAP efforts of those who hoard their resources. I daily empty my stores, I become still, I become hungry and I become tired as I see to the needs of the beloved. I make room for the Great Other to replace what is needed....and so love flows.
"What if I'm MEANT to be still, hungry and tired most of the time?"
It makes sense if you think about it for more than a few seconds:
"If I'm made to love with a sacrificial love, then no matter the amount of a thing I possess, I will give more than I can afford and trust God to replace what I need."
If I only ever give to the beloved from my excess, from my "extra", what does this say about the quality of my love? The beloved will only receive what I do not keep for myself.
Cheap.
But if I give from deep within my personal stores, from that which sustains me, it shows an entirely different kind of love. It says that the beloved matters more than my own entertainment, comfort and rest.
Dangerous.
Dig as deeply as you wish in most human hearts; lift the heavy blankets and layers of fabric, the stacks of wet newspaper, moldy photo albums, jewelry, old ticket stubs, stained sheets and once worn bride's maid dresses...cast aside the ribbon-bound greeting cards, the scribbled promises and panting pleas, and you will find beneath it all something cheap: love extended from personal excess.
But look no further than the quiet servant, to the one whose name no one knows, and there before you, without guile, disguise or adornment, without shame, motive, nuance or intricacy, burns a glaring love. Fueled by the mystery of the Great Other, relentless in its devotion to the beloved, all consuming:
Dangerous.
"If the Great Other does not replenish my stores....I will die. To love another with sacrificial love then, is simply to trust the Great Other."
I become the conduit for love which flows in from outside the clamoring, panicky and CHEAP efforts of those who hoard their resources. I daily empty my stores, I become still, I become hungry and I become tired as I see to the needs of the beloved. I make room for the Great Other to replace what is needed....and so love flows.
