Love is
patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It
does not dishonor others, 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. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are
tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. (I
Corinthians 13:4-8)
Since I mentioned love yesterday, it seems appropriate to delve a little further, to return to this well-known, well-loved, but perhaps not well-considered description of the subject. I call it a description rather than a definition because it doesn’t tell us what love is so much as it describes what it looks like. If I tell you that I am 5’4” tall and overweight, but that I don’t smoke, does that define me?
So, love is patient. Are you screaming yet? Patient? Why did we have to start out with a hard one. Why couldn’t love have been … fun? Or thrilling? I suspect love wouldn’t have much strength if it were fun or thrilling. There’s a more important thought. Love has to be patient because there is something wrong with the beloved. The loved one is imperfect, flawed, broken, or does not come up to our standards in some way. In short, those we love are ultimately not acceptable to us and since we love them, we deal with them when they’re at their worst. Even those who assume people are basically good are likely to consider those they supposedly love to be exceptions to that generalization, at least at times.
Similarly, love is kind. Why would we need to be told that if it were not tempting to be unkind, and not because of a flaw in ourselves (though that is there as well) but because there is a flaw in the beloved? As I consider these this morning, it comes to mind that both patience and kindness take for granted that we have judged the beloved and found him/her lacking in some way. What’s more, Scripture doesn’t rebuke us for judging, or worse yet judging someone we love. Instead, it seems to assume that our judgments in the matter are correct. There is something wrong with the beloved. He/she doesn’t live up to our standards, and our standards are not wrong.
Later in the passage, it tells us that love keeps no record of wrongs. It’s not that there are no wrongs to be recorded. It says also that love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. There’s a tough one in our society. We’re supposed to “accept” one another just the way they are, not judging them, and we’re supposed to celebrate them in their diversity – no matter what sort of diversity that might be. Of course, that makes love impossible, because love must distinguish between good and evil, which means love must judge. And as the saying goes, all that is needed for evil to prevail is for good to stand by and do nothing (because it’s too busy not judging.)
Since I mentioned love yesterday, it seems appropriate to delve a little further, to return to this well-known, well-loved, but perhaps not well-considered description of the subject. I call it a description rather than a definition because it doesn’t tell us what love is so much as it describes what it looks like. If I tell you that I am 5’4” tall and overweight, but that I don’t smoke, does that define me?
So, love is patient. Are you screaming yet? Patient? Why did we have to start out with a hard one. Why couldn’t love have been … fun? Or thrilling? I suspect love wouldn’t have much strength if it were fun or thrilling. There’s a more important thought. Love has to be patient because there is something wrong with the beloved. The loved one is imperfect, flawed, broken, or does not come up to our standards in some way. In short, those we love are ultimately not acceptable to us and since we love them, we deal with them when they’re at their worst. Even those who assume people are basically good are likely to consider those they supposedly love to be exceptions to that generalization, at least at times.
Similarly, love is kind. Why would we need to be told that if it were not tempting to be unkind, and not because of a flaw in ourselves (though that is there as well) but because there is a flaw in the beloved? As I consider these this morning, it comes to mind that both patience and kindness take for granted that we have judged the beloved and found him/her lacking in some way. What’s more, Scripture doesn’t rebuke us for judging, or worse yet judging someone we love. Instead, it seems to assume that our judgments in the matter are correct. There is something wrong with the beloved. He/she doesn’t live up to our standards, and our standards are not wrong.
Later in the passage, it tells us that love keeps no record of wrongs. It’s not that there are no wrongs to be recorded. It says also that love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. There’s a tough one in our society. We’re supposed to “accept” one another just the way they are, not judging them, and we’re supposed to celebrate them in their diversity – no matter what sort of diversity that might be. Of course, that makes love impossible, because love must distinguish between good and evil, which means love must judge. And as the saying goes, all that is needed for evil to prevail is for good to stand by and do nothing (because it’s too busy not judging.)
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