Love is patient, love is kind, and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails...
The first-century Christian apostle Paul wrote that. If you are a Christian of biblical faith, God inspired it. It’s what is meant by agape love, God’s perfect love, a love He calls us to aspire to, a love so comprehensively perfect that we might be forgiven for the feeling that—for most of us at least—love is impossible. But a biblical distinction is made between romantic or sexual love, filial or brotherly love—notions of love we can relate to—and the pure love of God that He calls us to accept and reflect, the gift that He alone can give.
So intrinsic is the purity of this love to God that we are assured that it is the very nature and substance of His identity. Clearly, but sparingly, we are informed that God is spirit and God is light; but as if to trumpet it from the mountain tops, God’s inspired scribes also announce with clarion conviction and authority that, “God is love, and the one who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.” And more than that, “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear…”
It appears clear, then, that we are to understand that the opposite of love is not hate, but fear. What fills the void that is the absence of a love relationship with God is fear. What makes our lives less than what God wants them to be is fear. Reflecting that same understanding, the 14th-century Sufi poet, Hafiz, wrote,
Fear is the cheapest room in the house.
I’d like to see you living in better conditions…
God wants to see more love and playfulness in your eyes,
For that is your greatest witness to Him.
Jesus made clear that all of God’s teachings could be reduced to His desire that we should first love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength; and then to let that same love overflow to our relationships with others—all others, including even our enemies. We can love God and others in this way, we are assured, because He first loved us. And because in faith we can accept and abide in that love, we can let it overflow back to God and others.
But how do we really know? How can we be sure? How can we trust enough to give ourselves over to God in this way? William of St. Thierry, like other medieval Christian writers and contemplatives, had great respect for the intellect and knowledge. “He respected the fact that the intellect knows,” we are told, “however, he believed that love knows, too, and that finally the person knows God through loving him.” Love knows.
But walking this path of love leads inextricably to God’s love replacing more and more of what passes for ours, to our will, even our identity, being replaced more by His. For most, this renewal or transcendence of identity, this leaving much of who you were behind, can, in its own way, be a fearful path to walk. It is difficult enough (and often for good reason) to entrust our romantic or brotherly love to others who may not extend to it the care, respect and reciprocity that it deserves. But how much more difficult to comprehend and accept is His promised sense of freedom in surrendering more completely our love, our will and control to His, to trust more completely in the leadership of His Love and His way for our lives. Comprehending this truth, Meher Baba, a 20th-century Indian spiritual master, wrote:
True love is no game for the faint-hearted and weak,
It is born of strength and understanding.
[And quoting Hafiz,]
Only a person with his life up his sleeve
Dares kiss the threshold of love.
Love knows. But it is not an easy lesson to learn; it is not an easy path to walk.
© Gregory E. Hudson 2007
