School Supplies

Just got the automated voicemail message from our public school principal… and apparently I have 14 forms I need to fill out and 37 school supply items I need to purchase so my daughter can continue her formal education.

BRB.

(JK.)

Debating whether to delete the message, throw on my comfies and watch a couple episodes of “The Crown.” (Queen Elizabeth doesn’t do these ignoble tasks; why should I?) The thought of filling out all those forms… and then braving the back-to-school aisle…

Please pass the Excedrin Migraine.

Every year, I endure the frenzied dash and mad grab for backpacks and their contents: pencil pouches, pocket folders, page protectors, spiral notebooks, index cards, glue sticks, scissors, rulers, graph paper, Post-It notes, and 12 types of writing utensils: No. 2 pencils, colored pencils, crayons, red/blue/black pens, highlighters, dry erase markers, fine-line and wide-tip Sharpies, gel pens, charcoal pencils, styluses… and scented markers. (Brilliant. Let’s provide both a distraction and a gateway to huffing at the same time.)

And I think… Do these kids really need all that stuff?

I’ve been buying school supplies for a quarter century now. So I consider myself a back-to-school veteran of sorts. I’ve done multiple tours: preschool, elementary, middle school, high school and college. And I’ve suffered flesh wounds in the Battle of Dollar General.

And you know what I’ve come to realize?

My daughter needs me to supply her with far more than index cards and safety scissors.

Along with a handful of highlighters, she needs me to highlight and celebrate all the ways she’s learning and growing. Not just academically and intellectually. But relationally and spiritually. In discernment, compassion, grit, grace.

Along with a ruler, she needs me to measure her against herself, not compare her to her classmates, teammates or siblings.

Along with pink erasers, she needs me to teach her to learn from her mistakes… but leave her failures where they belong: in the past.

Along with fine-line markers, she needs me to teach her the fine line between humility and insecurity… And the verrrrryyy fine line between confidence and arrogance.

Along with Post-Its, she needs me to guide and keep an eye on her social media posts… and help her avoid the pitfalls of constant comparison and FOMO. And the Insta-filtered-and-fueled onslaught of self-objectification… self-doubt… and self-pity. (#triplethreat)

Along with a PE uniform, she needs me to provide an example of physical fitness, emotional wellness and spiritual strength. (And given the escalation of gun violence across the country, I’m inclined to provide body armor too. But that’s another blog for another day.)

The supplies my daughter needs most can’t be rung up at a register at Target.

We can’t just give our kids all the “stuff” and sign them up for all the “things” (while we remain distracted/stressed/emotionally unavailable)… and think they’re gonna turn out ok.

They won’t.

(The latest mental health statistics prove it.)

Kids – even high school kids – need this critical trio of “supplies” from their folks:

A sense of security. Which requires a fair amount of structure… and a whole lot of comfort, counsel, and clear – reasonable – expectations.

A safety net. Something to hold onto – and help them up – when they stumble or fall. A deep faith. A close-knit family. A supportive team. A circle of real, true-blue, faithful friends… not fakers/takers/heartbreakers. A passion for art, music, theater, ____________. Or all of the above.

And (here’s the biggie)…

The gift of time.

Twenty years ago (when we were young, relatively clueless parents), our pastor bestowed this pearl of wisdom:

Kids spell love T-I-M-E.

Though many would deny this (especially 13 – 17-year-old boys, in my experience) it’s the gift they want most. Our precious time.

Face time. Yes, this does in fact mean face-to-face, phones down, no distractions. I’ve come to realize that my full and undivided attention is a gift I give far too infrequently. I… we… must do better. Our kids deserve it.

Game time. True confessions: I’m not the “fun” parent around here. I’m the taskmaster and the bad cop. But I’m learning to let loose a little more… and I’m realizing that being silly and playing games and goofing around is pretty much every kid’s love language.

Down time. Kids need a break sometimes. Often, actually. Just like us, they need to unwind/rest/breathe/be still. (And contrary to popular belief, boredom can be a blessing.)

Hang time. If they want to invite friends over, count yourself blessed… and say YES.

(Just do it.)

Crunch time. Life is tough. Kids are pretty resilient but they have to learn how to meet challenges, fight through adversity… and face consequences. Consequences are good teachers. Parents who do an end run on behalf of their kids aren’t doing them any favors. They’re only delaying the inevitable setback… or suffering. Every once in a while, we all need some hard truth and tough love – pruning – so we can grow and bloom and flourish.

Quiet time. Actual silence. No Spotify or Netflix or YouTube videos. No earbuds or airpods or wireless speakers. No noise whatsoever. Because quiet invites…

Peace.

And that’s something you can’t buy in the back-to-school aisle either.

Wishing everyone a happy, healthy, fully-supplied school year!

Wendy

P.S. If you – like me – find yourself feeling under-stocked and ill-equipped to supply your kiddos with everything they need, I encourage you to go straight to the Distributor:

And my God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.

 

 

 

 

 

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The Intersection of Politics & Religion

The way I see it, there’s a four-way stop at the intersection of politics and religion.

In order to move forward, everybody in every lane needs to come to a full and complete stop, look both left and right (double-check those blind spots) and proceed with caution…

Otherwise there’s bound to be a horrific crash.

(With casualties.)

Don’t get me wrong… I’m not saying the two shouldn’t intersect. I’m simply saying we should be cautious. I cherish the far-reaching rights our democracy has afforded us, including freedom of speech. We are a country of ideals and ideas. (And yes, a handful of idiots too. < Let’s just try to ignore them.) You have the freedom to believe what you like and speak your mind about it, anytime, anywhere. And so do I. And that’s a good thing.

But we need to be careful or we’re going to lose the graces of mutual respect and collective strength in all of our clamoring to be heard and heeded.

Once upon a time, common courtesy was…

Common.

*sigh*

In the heartbreaking aftermath of 9/11, we witnessed something truly extraordinary. The profound comfort and consolation our country found in this one (big) little gift:

Togetherness.

(Remember that?)

Somehow that solace succumbed to an outbreak of sputtering, spewing, ranting and reviling in the public square. Cable news became a round-the-clock purveyor of angry rhetoric, relentless accusations, and irresponsible/inflammatory/biased/bombastic reporting. And the emergence of social media provided a platform for all sorts of strife.

It’s an alarming cultural shift…

And it’s effectively eroding the “United” in our States.

There’s a rising tide of “us” versus “them,” rather than “we the people.” And it’s threatening to flood/drown/destroy America the beautiful… from sea to shining sea.

I know there are some folks that share my faith who struggle to accept those who have rejected it. (And as much as I’d love for everyone I know to experience the amazing grace and peace I’ve found in Jesus, I willingly acknowledge that each one gets to decide for themselves who He is and what they believe.) Many of those same folks can’t fathom how other people who do share their faith can disagree with their positions and politics. Christians on both sides of the political spectrum seem stunned that their brothers and sisters could possibly oppose what they perceive is the “right” way to think and vote.

And that’s when they/we/I tend to get reckless, run a red… and T-bone a big blue Buick.  Underneath all the wreckage, there’s a mangled mass of pride, prejudice and judgment.

Not saying our deeply-held convictions shouldn’t influence our political views. Not at all. I’m simply saying we shouldn’t be trying to manipulate our theology – or worse yet, scripture – to “fit” our political views. (Though some try mightily, manipulating God is not an option… Thankfully, He cannot and will not be crammed or contorted into a manmade container.)

Abraham Lincoln said this during the Civil War, “Sir, my concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God’s side, for God is always right.”

And I daresay the only way to know what and where God’s side is… is to walk with Him.

Pray. Soak up His word. Follow His example. (If we really want to know WWJD, we can read His authorized biography in the Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke, John.)

In order to align with God’s cause, we’ve got to abide by His Book. We have to search it, study it, ponder it, pray it and (here’s the hard part) live it. The whole of it… not just the “sliver” we select to serve our purpose, promote our cause, advance our agenda.

There’s a notable difference between religion and a relationship with Jesus. One is subject to the whims of mere mortals. The other isn’t.

“Will Christians turn once again toward an approach that imposes its will on the rest of society? By doing so we would betray our founder, who resisted a temptation to authority over “all the kingdoms of the world,” and who died a martyr at the hands of a powerful state. In the words of Miroslav Volf, “Imposition stands starkly at odds with the basic character of the Christian faith, which is at its heart about self-giving—God’s self-giving and human self-giving—and not about self-imposing.” ~ Philip Yancey, Christians and Politics: Uneasy Partners

I think there’s some pretty clear directives in scripture about who’s supposed to do what around here. And I think some people (myself included, more often than I care to admit) think it’s their responsibility to do God’s job. But the older I get, the more I understand that I can’t possibly. (I don’t have enough foresight, strength or smarts. And besides that, I’m sorely lacking in mercy and patience.)

So I’ve decided to let God be Judge…

Jesus be Savior…

His Spirit be the One who corrects and re-directs.

(None of the above is in my job description.)

My mission is simply this:

Love God.

Love people.

(All of them.)

Whether we agree or not.

In middle age, I’m finally learning something I wish I’d learned a long time ago:

How to lovingly disagree.

Loving well doesn’t mean never getting angry. Jesus did… particularly in the face of hypocrisy, injustice and greed. At one point, He got so furious He flipped over tables in the temple and drove out hucksters trying to turn a profit in the name of religion. (Hmm. A handful of media-mogul/mega-church preachers might want to keep this in mind.)

Absolutely, there’s a time to fight for what you believe in.

But I’m convinced that some people want to fight about everything. They don’t choose their battles; they invite – or incite – conflict. (Not sure why. Attention-getting? Anger problem? Power grab?) They’re habitual pot-stirrers/troublemakers/flame-throwers… and that’s not doing anybody (including them) any good.

But here’s the beautiful thing. We don’t have to take the bait.

We can simply ignore the insults/irritation/idiocy and just keep swimming…

Surfing…

Scrolling.

And if we choose to engage in meaningful, constructive conversation – and why bother with anything else? – we need to…

Listen.

Really listen.

And learn the fine art of loving disagreement.

Or we’re going to do ourselves in.

If a house is divided against itself, that house cannot stand. ~ Jesus 

Listen, we don’t have to agree to stick together. We don’t have to share political views to care about one another. We don’t have to see eye-to-eye on every issue to stay united. We don’t even have to like each other… to be respectful and kind.

May we pledge ourselves to remaining…

Indivisible.

May we celebrate both our diversity and our unity.

To those with whom I vehemently disagree, I just want to say this (loud and clear):

I’m happy to be stuck with you!

Wendy

P.S. “In essentials, unity. In non-essentials, liberty. In all things, love.” ~ St. Augustine

The Only Question That Matters

In 100 years, you and I will both be dead.

And the only thing that’ll matter is our answer to this question:

Who do you say that I am?

(Jesus asking.)

He really wants to know what you think of him. (Well, technically, he already knows. But maybe you aren’t really sure?) Now before you quit reading because I’m getting all Jesus-freaky again… let’s switch places.

What are your big questions? Do you ever wonder…

Who am I?

What is the meaning of life? 

How did I get here? (And the followup: How do I get outta this mess?)

Where can I find a little peace?

Good questions. Hard questions. (Trick questions?)

Any idea where to get an answer key? Amazon sells some, but I’m not sure they’re what you’re looking for. If however, you like to do algebra in your free time, you’re all set.

Many years ago, I had the enormous joy (and occasional splitting headache) of teaching Sunday School to a giggly gaggle of first- and second-graders. Early on, I noticed they were eager to answer questions. I’d ask for responses, and a bunch of waving, wiggly hands would fly into the air. At my invitation, they’d gleefully pronounce their answers.

Love!

Jesus!

The Bible!

God/The Guy Upstairs/Art! (Slight misinterpretation of Our Father – who’s Art – in heaven.)

Me, me, me!

No matter my question, most of the time I got one of the above answers. I heard other guesses too:

The Bible!

A prince(ss)!

Pastor Clem!

Pray, pray, pray!

Every once in a while, a “creative problem-solver” would offer an alternative answer:

Holy buckets!

Grape juice and crackers! 

This little light of mine!

The zombie apocalypse!

And you know what? Most of those kiddos’ answers were. Spot. On. (Minus the zombies.)

Who am I?

A prince(ss)!

What are human beings that you think about them; what are human beings that you pay attention to them? You’ve made them only slightly less than divine, crowning them with glory and grandeur. ~ Psalm 8:4-5 (CEB)

What is the meaning of life?

Love.

…And [that you may come] to know [practically, through personal experience] the love of Christ which far surpasses [mere] knowledge [without experience], that you may be filled up [throughout your being] to all the fullness of God [so that you may have the richest experience of God’s presence in your lives, completely filled and flooded with God Himself]. ~ Ephesians 3:19 (AMP)

How did I get here?

Me, me, me!

We’re all like sheep who’ve wandered off and gotten lost. We’ve all done our own thing, gone our own way. ~ Isaiah 53:6a (MSG)

How do I get outta this mess?

Jesus.

The payment for sin is death. But God gives us the free gift of life forever in Christ Jesus our Lord. ~ Romans 6:23 (NCV)

Where can I find a little peace?

Pray, pray, pray.

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything; tell God your needs, and don’t forget to thank him for his answers. If you do this, you will experience God’s peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will keep your thoughts and your hearts quiet and at rest as you trust in Christ Jesus. ~ Philippians 4:6-7 (TLB)

Turns out the Bible is the answer key for…. well… pretty much everything.

Don’t believe me? Open it up and read it for yourself. (#justdoit)

Now, back to the original question…

Who do you say that he is?

(One of these days, you’re gonna have to answer that one.)

If it’s multiple-choice, you’ve got plenty of answers to choose from:

A. Brilliant teacher.

B. Religious zealot.

C. Obscure Jewish carpenter who happened to gain a lasting and faithful following. (Pretty impressive sans social media and cable news.)

D. None of the above.

E. All of the above.

Some people simply say he was a preacher or prophet. Some say a pretender… or pariah.

I’ve noticed that most people (including myself) tend to define him based on what they’ve heard about him rather than what he’s revealed – in scripture, in nature, in love.

Jesus is who he says he is:

The Way.

The Truth.

The Life.

(And no one comes to the Father except through him.)

He told people straight up that he’s the Son of God and the Son of man. The Good Shepherd and the Lamb of God. The bread of life and the light of the world. The Savior, Healer and Messiah.

He’s all that. (For real.)

And if you don’t believe him, you must think he’s a brazen liar or a total loon.

As I’ve gotten to know him better, finding him in the pages of scripture and talking to him in prayer and inviting him into my everyday, I’ve discovered he’s also…

My rescuer.

My confidante.

My favorite artist.

My freedom fighter.

My solace.

My trail guide.

My fallout shelter.

My lighthouse.

My life coach.

My joy bomb.

My hidden treasure.

Jesus is the brilliant writer who’s woven together hiStory and mine.

He’s the One who sees my every failure, flaw and frailty… and adores me still.

He’s the One who gave me life… and laid his down. (Not only for me, but you too.) He endured betrayal, wrongful conviction, taunting, torture. He suffered the worst imaginable death penalty surrounded by mockers and murderers. He bore the weight of every last sin, unbound hatred, darkest despair…

Bloody hell.

But perhaps the worst anguish was caused by the One he trusted most. Forsaken by his own Father, Jesus died utterly, excruciatingly alone.

Because love will sacrifice everything for its beloved.

And that’s who you are.

You know why there’s an epidemic of identity crises in our culture? Because we haven’t discovered our own backstory.

Who am I?

Here’s a clue: “I Am” shows me who I am.

And he explains everything else too.

I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen, not only because I see it but because by it, I see everything else. ~ C.S. Lewis

Without God, things are pretty tough to explain.

Why is the earth’s orbit precisely timed and mapped to sustain life? Who thought up the Leafy Seadragon and Magnificent Frigatebird? How does the human eye work? What prevents all the clouds in the atmosphere from breaking open at once and flooding the entire planet? If there was a big bang, who triggered it?

How could mere mortals account for all the inexplicable coincidences and rapturous wonders of life? How could human beings possibly pull off all the death-defying rescues, stunning mercies, miraculous recoveries? How is it we get glimpses of amazing grace and transcendent glory and true love? Do we really think we can take credit for all that?

If we’re going to take credit for anything, we should probably start with our mistakes. And we’d do well to remember that there are villains in this story too. (Which is why God really shouldn’t get blamed for all that’s hateful/horrifying/heinous/hellish.)

Not interested in a theological debate here… I know I’m not smart enough to outwit the shrewd intellect of someone determined to disbelieve. In fact, I’m often surprised when people expect me to be able to articulate the marvelous mysteries of the Christian faith or the unfathomable wisdom of my God. If I – with my feeble mind and limited vocabulary – were able to oblige, my God would not be worthy of my awe, wonder and worship, would He?

I can’t explain him. I can’t even wrap my mind around a fragment of who he is. I just know… he is.

Savior. Son of God. Creator. King.

The one who loves me most and best.

It’s the one-question final exam of life. And your answer will resound for all eternity.

Who do you say that he is?

As for me, I have no doubt.

He is…

RISEN.

Wendy

P.S. Please don’t judge Jesus based on the people who claim to follow him… including me.  We fall (woefully) short. If you want to get to know the real Jesus, you can read a firsthand account of his life written by one of his closest friends here.

Collateral Damages

How the hell did we get here?

(Actually, I think I just answered my own question. Hell led us here… and we followed.)

Yesterday, pending legislation which would have required medical practitioners to provide care for newborns (who survive an abortion attempt) was voted down.

Sorry, kid. Can’t help you. RIP.

A measure intended to prevent infanticide was blocked by 44 senators who voted against it. (I won’t list them here, but feel free to look them up, call them up and vote them out.)

Here is H.R. 4712 (the bill also known as the Born-Alive Abortion Survivors Protection Act):

This bill amends the federal criminal code to require any health care practitioner who is present when a child is born alive following an abortion or attempted abortion to: (1) exercise the same degree of care as reasonably provided to any other child born alive at the same gestational age, and (2) ensure that such child is immediately admitted to a hospital. The term “born alive” means the complete expulsion or extraction from his or her mother, at any stage of development, who after such expulsion or extraction breathes or has a beating heart, pulsation of the umbilical cord, or definite movement of voluntary muscles, regardless of whether the umbilical cord has been cut. Also, a health care practitioner or other employee who has knowledge of a failure to comply with these requirements must immediately report such failure to an appropriate law enforcement agency. An individual who violates the provisions of this bill is subject to a criminal fine, up to five years in prison, or both. An individual who commits an overt act that kills a child born alive is subject to criminal prosecution for murder. The bill bars the criminal prosecution of a mother of a child born alive for conspiracy to violate these provisions, for being an accessory after the fact, or for concealment of felony. A woman who undergoes an abortion or attempted abortion may file a civil action for damages against an individual who violates this bill.

So… exactly what part of this is objectionable?

I welcome real reasons, thoughtful comments and legitimate objections. I truly do. (Thus the “comments” section upper left.)

But I recoil when I hear the tirades claiming this measure is an overt attempt to violate reproductive rights or privacy/protection/personal choices related to women’s healthcare. This has little or nothing to do with women’s rights or their bodies… because the person in question (the survivor) is living outside and apart from said woman.

This is not a conservative or liberal issue, people. This is an ethics issue.

We have anti-cruelty laws in place to protect voles, for heaven’s sake. (Rodents.)

Oh wait, I forgot… the loophole is (in the words of the governor of Virginia) an assurance that “the infant would be kept comfortable…”

While they (mother and doctor) decide whether or not (s)he should be left to die.

What have we become?

I’m no doctor, obviously. But 35 years ago, I began a rigorous pre-med program at Northwestern (which I later abandoned due to said rigor and an ongoing love affair with words). At the time, I planned to become a pediatrician but based on the later discovery of my revulsion at the sight of bodily fluids – blood, mucus, stomach contents, etc – I think I made the right choice. (Paper and pencils have never once triggered my gag reflex.) At some point in my studies, I stumbled across the Hippocratic Oath, part of which reads:

Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death.

Tread carefully indeed. A sobering reminder…

Above all, I must not play at God.

(Mic drop.)

Once upon a time, every physician took this solemn oath, swearing to uphold it for every patient, in every circumstance.

More and more med schools are abandoning that practice too. It’s outdated, they argue.

Apparently so.

Nelson Mandela once said, “There can be no keener revelation of a society’s soul than the way in which it treats its children.” 

Lord, have mercy on our soul.

He knew we’d end up here.

You are headed for trouble! You say wrong is right, darkness is light, and bitter is sweet. You think you are clever and smart. And you are great at drinking and mixing drinks. But you are in for trouble. ~ Isaiah 5:20-22 (CEV)

This is what happens when we make ourselves gods and goddesses. We worship the self, drink to our shrewdness, celebrate our selfishness/satiation/sin. And in so doing, we make the whole world darker and more destitute.

“It’s the greatest poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you wish.”  – Mother Teresa

Yes, it is.

The littlest ones have become the collateral damage in our pursuit of happiness. Apparently now, it’s the newborns who survive a botched abortion and must suffer the consequences of their parents’ “choices.” Especially those babies deemed “defective.”

In his book The Disappearance of Childhood, Neil Postman wrote, Children are the living messages we send to a time we will not see.” 

So, what messages are we sending, exactly? (With the ones we allow to live, I mean.)

It’s a haunting question.

One that kept me up last night.

One that ought to keep us (praying types) on our knees. And compel everyone who cares about human rights to vote accordingly. Because we’re on a very, very slippery slope.

In this country. In the world. In history.

Even so, God is good.

Even when a child dies at the hands of a doctor… by the choice of his/her own mother… His love cannot be terminated.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” ~ Matthew 19:14 (NIV)

Whether welcomed into the world or ripped from it, every child is wrapped in love.

Because… little ones to Him belong.

And heaven belongs to them.

Wendy

P.S. A brilliant author and illustrator once wrote: “A person’s a person, no matter how small.” (I couldn’t agree more, Dr. Seuss.)

 

 

 

 

Crazy Little Thing

Love is in the air.

It wafts through February with not-so-subtle notes of fresh-cut roses, chocolate truffles and pricey cologne.

(And occasionally, a hint of desperation.)

Valentine’s Day looms, casting its candlelit shadows and sultry melodies, rendering hopeless romantics everywhere… lovestruck.

Quick PSA: If you haven’t procured a token of affection for your sweetheart, you’ve got about 24 hours to bring the magic. And a giant teddy bear with big brown eyes and a red velvet bow is – sadly – devoid of magic… unless the object of your affection possesses the emotional maturity of a third-grader. (In which case you have have much bigger problems than finding the right Valentine’s Day gift.)

Since there seems to be a fair amount of confusion (and endless debate) about what love is and isn’tI thought I’d try to sift through some sentiments/platitudes/poems/prose and toss a few of the fantasies/fallacies/falsities/fables.

(In honor of Saint Valentine, of course.)

Love is never having to say you’re sorry. (Erich Segal)

I disagree. Humility and mercy are pretty essential to love’s survival. Say sorry, mean it, make amends… start again.

Love is blind. (Friedrich Nietzsche)

Nope. True love gazes intently, sees clearly… and loves anyway.

Love is friendship set on fire. (Jeremy Taylor)

Don’t really think so. I get the gist but… fire burns down. Love builds up.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. (William Shakespeare)

Smoke vanishes. Love sticks around.

Love is a game and true love is a trophy. (Rufus Wainwright)

If love is a game to you… you’re a player. (And a jerk.) Thank u, next.

Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same. (George R. R. Martin)

Wrong. Love shouldn’t be toxic. Ever. (If it is, run for your life.)

Love is a flower; you’ve got to let it grow. (John Lennon)

Sweet sentiment… lousy analogy. Flowers wilt. Love is ever green.

Love is a serious mental disease. (Plato)

No, psychosis is a serious mental disease. Love, on the other hand, heals.

Love is a battlefield. (Pat Benatar)

Wrong. Life is a battlefield. Love is a bunker.

Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired. (Robert Frost)

I’m thinking this sounds an awful lot like objectification. (And isn’t that what we tell our daughters to avoid at all costs? Thought so.) It’s devotion – not desire – that lasts.

Love is a reciprocal torture. (Marcel Proust)

Nope. Love doesn’t inflict pain. It endeavors to ease it.

Love is like a fart. If you have to force it, it’s probably s&*#. (Smart, Alec.)

Actually, I have no idea who said this. (I just really wanted to attribute one of these quotes to the aforementioned fictional character.)

While these sayings are oft-quoted (and make catchy memes), none of the above is actually, well, true.

And I daresay it’s not what love is that matters most. It’s what love does.

Love rescues.

Love rights wrongs.

Love banishes fear.

Love bears the worst… and believes the best.

Love never double-crosses or quits or falters or fails.

Love lasts. Forever and ever. Amen.

That’s real love. And there’s only one like that.

God’s.

(But you already knew that, didn’t you?)

God’s love is pure… profound… perfect.

And nothing in the entire universe can stop it.

For I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from his love. Death can’t, and life can’t. The angels won’t, and all the powers of hell itself cannot keep God’s love away. Our fears for today, our worries about tomorrow, or where we are—high above the sky, or in the deepest ocean—nothing will ever be able to separate us from the love of God demonstrated by our Lord Jesus Christ when he died for us. (Romans 8:38-39, TLB)

It’s utterly indestructible, startlingly tender.

It can be shunned, mocked, betrayed, rejected or reviled… and it isn’t deflected, deterred or destroyed. In fact, it isn’t dimmed or diminished in the slightest.

In love, God fixes His adoring gaze on us – even at our ugliest and worst. (Which, let’s be honest, is often far more unsightly than what we allow to seep out into the public eye.)

Love refuses to be spurned. It simply… waits.

It doesn’t flinch in the face of rejection or rage. (Or even turn away.)

Because with God, there’s no such thing as “irreconcilable differences.”

In fact, there are no conditions for God’s love whatsoever… and no reciprocation necessary.

Crazy, isn’t it?

Who could possibly love like that?

Not a single soul on this spinning blue ball has the grace and guts to love that way.

Love is… and love does…

because…

I AM.

Love isn’t just God’s idea. It’s His very nature. It’s who He was, who He is… and who He will always be.

And since He’s the inventor of love, He’s the one who gets to decide what defines and distinguishes it from all of its imitators: attraction, affection, camaraderie, chemistry, compatibility, flattery, obsession, esteem, loyalty, lust. It isn’t just sweet talk. It’s truth. And it’s true blue.

He shows us the essence of love by example.

Quite simply, He lives it.

(In epic proportions.)

Who He is… is what LOVE is:

Incredibly patient, exceedingly gentle, consistently kind. Strong and steady and wholly unselfish. Refreshing, resilient, restorative, relentless.

God lives and breathes love. And let His only Son die to prove it.

Because love will sacrifice everything for its beloved.

Jesus bore the shame and blame and excruciating pain, and He did it for those who were inflicting it. (You and me and all the rest of humankind.) He did it with no guarantee that we’d ever appreciate – or even acknowledge – His incomprehensible sacrifice. He did it, knowing we might never return His affection and adoration. (Or pass it on.)

My beloved friends, let us continue to love each other since love comes from God. Everyone who loves is born of God and experiences a relationship with God. The person who refuses to love doesn’t know the first thing about God, because God is love—so you can’t know him if you don’t love. This is how God showed his love for us: God sent his only Son into the world so we might live through him. This is the kind of love we are talking about—not that we once upon a time loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to clear away our sins and the damage they’ve done to our relationship with God.

My dear, dear friends, if God loved us like this, we certainly ought to love each other. No one has seen God, ever. But if we love one another, God dwells deeply within us, and his love becomes complete in us—perfect love!

This is how we know we’re living steadily and deeply in him, and he in us: He’s given us life from his life, from his very own Spirit. Also, we’ve seen for ourselves and continue to state openly that the Father sent his Son as Savior of the world. Everyone who confesses that Jesus is God’s Son participates continuously in an intimate relationship with God. We know it so well, we’ve embraced it heart and soul, this love that comes from God.

God is love. (1 John 4:7-16, The Message)

Turns out that crazy little thing called love is… a crazy big thing.

The biggest – and best – thing ever.

Wendy

P.S. Be(Love)d.

 

What Love Isn’t

My dear reader,

If you’re in love – or looking for it – I’m writing to you today. With the hope that maybe I can clear up a few misconceptions.

‘Cause we live in a crazy, confused, capricious world. And we sure as heck can’t rely on its loudest voices to tell us the truth about love. (On Valentine’s Day or any other day of the year.)

Our only hope for anything remotely resembling “happily ever after” is this:

We’ve got to keep the true in true love. (And denounce the dirty, degrading and rapidly mutating lies.)

In any relationship, at any age or stage, under any circumstance…

Here is what love isn’t:

Love isn’t impatient. If someone hurries you or hounds you or pushes you or pressures you to do anything, (s)he loves self, not you.

Love isn’t harsh or unkind or casually cruel. Sarcasm and snarky comments included. (It may seem witty at the time, but hurtful never really is.)

Love isn’t jealous or possessive or aggressive.

It isn’t arrogant either. If (s)he’s full of him(her)self, there’s no room for you.

Love isn’t rude. (Tone and tenor matter. More than most people think.)

Love isn’t demeaning or demanding. If you’re always the one giving in or giving up, get out. Now.

Love isn’t easily angered. Do you really want to be close to someone who might detonate at any moment? Rage-shrapnel is the toughest (and most painful) to remove.

Love isn’t easily offended either. It doesn’t keep a tally of missteps and infractions. The person who says “you owe me” rarely gets paid.

Love isn’t bitter. Forgive early, often, and liberally. (Mercy is a beautiful thing.)

Love isn’t gratified by another’s downfall or degradation. And it isn’t dishonest.

Love isn’t flimsy or fickle.

It isn’t fleeting.

Or unfaithful.

Because love isn’t chemistry. And chemistry isn’t commitment. (And commitment doesn’t have an expiration date.)

Love isn’t quick to assume or accuse. It isn’t cynical, suspicious or slanderous.

Love isn’t insecure.

It isn’t desperate.

Love isn’t controlling. Or clingy.

Love isn’t skittish. It doesn’t jump and run at the slightest pang. Or buckle under pressure. Love sticks around, hunkers down, rolls up its sleeves and gets to work. It digs deep and doesn’t quit. It holds on tight ’til challenges are met, conflicts resolved, obstacles overcome, crises weathered and storms ceased.

Love isn’t readily available (even – especially – on Tinder) and it cannot be store-bought. Though Hallmark, Fannie May (and florists and jewelers everywhere) would suggest otherwise. Especially today.

Love isn’t manmade. (In fact, nothing could be more divine.)

Love isn’t a coward.

Or a quitter.

Love holds on tight. For always.

Love… wins.

How can I be sure about all this?

God said so.

Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Corinthians 13:4-7)

See? Told you.

Here’s another translation:

So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love. 

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.

 

Yeah, that’s the good stuff.

True love.

If you don’t have it, I hope you find it. And if you’ve found it, I hope you cherish it.

Here’s to the real thing,

Wendy

P.S. If you’re desperate for love this Valentine’s Day (and who isn’t?), allow me to introduce you to its inventor and its essence, Jesus.

Be His.

Hello, love.