“But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you. (Luke 6:27-31)
No,
I don’t live up to this standard. I can’t even say I consistently try, but that
doesn’t mean it’s not a good standard; just that it isn’t an easy one. The inspiration
for today’s post came from chapter seven of Life Without Lack, which discusses
our love. One of the things Prof Willard wrote about was the charge made by
some people when they are dealing with a spiritual or psychological counselor: “You
only love me (to the extent that you do) because it’s your job.”
I’ve
struggled with this for years, and my charge runs up the ladder to God. “God is
love. God doesn’t have a choice but to love me. That’s His job description.
It’s not He loves me – it’s that I’m part of the herd and He loves the whole
herd. I don’t matter any more than that.” This “Socialist God” who cares for the
collective only cares for individuals to the extent that they are part of the
collective. He doesn’t love me the way I want to be loved by Him. If even the true
and living God doesn’t love me as I think he should (if He did, I would be His
god) the Socialist God is worse, because it would be wrong for that God to love
in a way that gives the appearance of privilege – not without the permission of
the community. That love is reduced to mechanics. Neither do I love God as well
as He might justifiably claim I should.
I
suspect you can see how quickly that hole gets very deep, and the problem is
that it is both true and false. God does love us as part of His creation, part
of the whole, as it were. Because He is God, and He is perfect, He must love
us. It is part of His job description, and ours. That doesn’t mean that we are
the nameless, replaceable cog in the machine who has no value to Him beyond
that. It doesn’t mean He doesn’t love us, and it doesn’t mean that we don’t
love Him or others.
As
I read what Professor Willard said about the complaint that pastors or
counsellors only loves because it’s their job, I imagined myself facing that
charge. My love seems to me to be severely lacking. I’ve been told by others
that they think my love is severely lacking and I’ve told them that theirs is,
too. But that isn’t really the right answer. What came to mind as a better
answer (perhaps still not right, but better) includes four basic elements:
Acknowledgement.
They could be right. I might not be loving well. What’s wrong with admitting that
you might be able to do better.
Listening.
What are their suggestions for how I might love them better?
Wisdom.
Their request may or may not be reasonable. It could be absolutely correct, or
it could be toxic. It could be immoral or unethical. It could involve making them
my god. Or, it could involve getting something from the bottom shelf at a grocery
store, or not calling them names. Is the request reasonable? Actionable? Appropriate?
Would it be an act of love in my mind?
Application.
Doing whatever it is my wisdom says to, whether they are friend or foe.
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