IOW: Love is...

"Love is beautiful, but it is also terrible--terrible in its determination to allow nothing blemished or unworthy to remain in the beloved."

~ Hannah Hurnard ~

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I've turned and turned this quote in my mind over the past few days. Each time, my thoughts head in one particular direction, away from specifically writing about this quote, yet very much about the meaning of love.

About a month ago, in the midst of reading, A Dad-Shaped Hole in My Heart, by H. Norman Wright, I realized that I truly didn't know what it means to love another person--specifically my husband and children. Now before you say anything to the contrary, hear me out.

The realization came when I was working through one of the forgiveness exercises carefully woven into Wright's book. Like a wave of the sea crashing on my heart, I found myself before the Lord, forgiving my father for not loving me the way I needed to be loved...for not showing me, by example, how to love a spouse...for not responding to me and encouraging me as a daughter...for not teaching me how to love my own husband and children...and for not actively loving my family now.

Mind you, my father taught me many wonderful things, like how to never give up, to work hard, and to be confident in my abilities, and for that I am extremely grateful. However, as I went through this heart-wrenching exercise, I remembered some of descriptions of my own father's childhood and realized that he most likely never experienced love, either. It made perfect sense to me that this is why he had difficulty expressing love in the words and actions I longed to feel from him, too, even though he tried to make his love known through providing for our family and giving us many luxurious experiences.

The Lord used this little forgiveness exercise to bring me to a place of true and ongoing compassion toward my father. But the lesson didn't stop there. I continued sitting with the Lord, talking with Him about my relationship with my dad, as a another wave hit my soul. I realized, with a deep sinking in my gut, that I have only worn the mask of loving my own family, and even the Lord Jesus. No one else would be able to tell, but I knew that I knew that I knew in that moment that my understanding of love needed to undergo a radical transformation, a process that had to begin with humble confession and true repentance.

I sought out my husband, knelt before him while he was sitting on the couch, and tearfully apologized for not loving him the way he ought to be loved. Of course, he was shocked and a bit overwhelmed, wondering where I was coming from and going to with all this emotion. He accepted my apology, assured me that he hasn't never felt unloved by me, and rejoiced with me in my new commitment to love him (with respect, of course), and our children from that point forward.

The truth is that my acts and words of love have been all about me. Getting married, saying "I love you," and being busy finding time together, filled my need to belong to someone. Having children was merely the fulfilling a childhood dream to have another soul love me unconditionally, even if she was donned with little bows and sweet frilly dresses. But what, in all these years of so-called loving, have I given, without compulsion or selfish ambition? What have I laid down for my family, without picking up the banner of martyr-hood? Honestly, nothing. I am so easily irritated each time I have to put aside my own desires for my family's sake. I know in my head that what the loving thing is to do, but in my heart, my selfishness does battle with sacrifice.

But I serve a merciful God, who knows the state of my heart and woundedness of my soul. This awesome God of mine loves me too much to leave me just masking around with the pretense of love. He bestowed on me husband with a servant's heart, who continually demonstrates a love I never knew was possible--the side that doesn't not boast, is not easily anger, and never gives up. And the Lord gave me not just two children I hoped for, but four--doubling my blessings beyond my greatest hopes and dreaded fears. Through them, He is teaching me that love keeps no record of wrongs, rejoices in truth, and always hopes.

Most importantly, the more I grow in understanding of the crucification, the more I understand the power, dimensions, and all-encompassing freedom that is the love of God. Not only is He love, but He gives us the ability to love. Through the cross, His word, and the fellowship of others, He continually presses our hearts to the mirror, forcing us to see the reflection of His love. There is no greater love than this!

Hurnard said that "Love is beautiful, but it is also terrible--terrible in its determination to allow nothing blemished or unworthy to remain in the beloved." She is right. God's love for us is determined to not leave a single blemish or unworthy moment or thought in us. For that, I am eternally gratefully.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking,
it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts,
always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.

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