Love

The way we love sometimes makes us forget that we are already beloved.

Have you ever written a list of reasons why you love someone? “I love the way her hair smells.” “I cannot help but smile when he smiles.” “I adore how she listens to me as an equal.” It is invigorating to have someone who loves us. And, it can be wonderful to actually name all the ways in which that love is expressed; however, if we turn that list around it can become dangerous.

What I mean is that conditional love can creep in if we turn these statements around on themselves. I will love her when she smells good. I will love him when he smiles. I will love her when she listens to me. This type of love is dangerous, and the crazy thing is that it’s even more worrisome if we do this to ourselves… I say if, but really I mean WHEN WE DO THIS TO OURSELVES.

I will be okay when I am good… when I am serving… when I am achieving… when I am significant… when I am capable… when I am reliable… when I am happy… when I am strong… when I am at peace. Each one of us is susceptible to this type of thinking on some level. It will be alright when (fill in the blank) and I will be okay once I (fill in the blank). And, because we are each vulnerable to this way of living our lives, we end up believing that love is not something that is innately present, but something that is to be sought or achieved both within and outside our selves.

We all fall prey to the same belief that one day I will figure it out… I will love myself. This is so dangerous because we believe that there is something missing inside and so, we spend our lives trying to fill some interior hole with all sorts of things that don’t belong (alcohol, sex, drugs, shopping, overeating, or escapism). Some people even fill that hole with seemingly good things like exercise or religion or service. It’s not always a vain pursuit, but this pursuit of and belief in conditional love harms our lives in some pretty significant ways. The good news is that even in this misguided journey we will often find a new place of understanding, but the price of that path is often years of our lives and deep anguish to our souls and the lives of those closest to us.

John the Baptizer did not know he was loved in today’s reading. He did not believe he ought to be baptizing Jesus. He believed it was something outside of himself that would make him alright. Then, God from the depths of those baptismal waters and the height of those billowing clouds cried out something. The words of belovedness echoed down from on high and fell upon Jesus, but they fell upon John the Baptizer and they fell on us too! You are my beloved. YOU! Not when John made the paths straight and cried out in the wilderness, but always he was beloved. Not when you are good, serving, achieving, significant, capable, reliable, happy, strong, or at peace, but right now you are God’s beloved, with you God is well pleased.

When Jesus heard those words shock waves rippled throughout all time and space to amplify what is built into our very nature. In the beginning what God created was not just good, but very good. What God continues to create is still good. And it is not just some simplistic varnish that gets overlain atop our lives when we remember that Jesus loves us. No, God Incarnate, God with us, came and dwelt among us and we receive through Jesus the ultimate statement of how God feels about us. In the beginning we were seen as very good in God’s eyes, but through Jesus the Almighty says, “You are my beloved.” I LOVE YOU. Right here, right now, and just as you are.

In the name of our ever-loving God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Tell Us Plainly

This Sunday we celebrate the Good Shepherd, but won't he tell us plainly?

This coming Sunday's Gospel reading comes from John 10, as we celebrate Good Shepherd Sunday. While at some point my thinking and preparation for Sunday night's sermon will inevitably turn towards the many examples of Jesus being our Good Shepherd, I am struck today by the words of some faithful Jews: "How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly." My focus zeroes in on these words because so often my anxious prayer to God sounds eerily similar to that of these religious leaders who are my spiritual ancestors.

About this time three years ago when I was discerning where my first call to ordained ministry would be I prayed, "GOD, just tell my plainly where I am to go." As my fiancee and I discerned a call to marriage I wanted God to just give me a simple sign. Way back when I wanted to know if I ought to go to seminary out in Austin, Texas I pleaded with God to let me know in a clear way. I imagine that whenever I face a stressful stretch of life my instinct will be to pray, "Do not keep me in suspense. Let me know what I am to do." But, doesn't this way of praying deny the act of faith?

When I was going through my rage against the Church and God phase in college I thought of the word faith as this phrase that simple-minded, religious folk used to keep themselves from thinking too hard or too much. Now I feel remorse that I thought that way, but I am happy that I struggled with how I define faith. To be faithful means that I will be in suspense. To be faithful means that I will not get the precise sign that I want or need. To be faithful requires that sometimes I walk in the dark, not knowing entirely that God is walking right beside me.

The life of a faithful follower of God will inevitably lead to moments when she does not know what the hell she is doing, and yet, somehow she still knows that God is leading her a step at a time. My hope is that I might be so wise as to have faith to not let my anxiety be my guide, but instead allow the Good Shepherd to call me onward. As sheep we will not know the reasoning of the Shepherd, we will certainly want to say "tell us plainly," and we will not like the suspense of walking by faith, but that is the great work of our lives (spiritual and otherwise) to trust that God walks with us, leading us wherever we go.