Thinking a little more on this love stuff, I am going to venture along the thought that if man had a choice, he would not love. It hurts way too much. You can see it in people, the desire to kill this unhindered desire to love. It's apparent in those who have ventured out a little bit only to be crushed with unbridled sorrow. It's like putting your toe in the water only to be attacked by piranhas-- that it hurts is putting it mildly. Uncertain of the glories of the prize, they measure only the great risk and, out of fear, shut their hearts up. It takes a while, and the heart refuses to hear. I think the most effective measures I've seen involve:
The way I see it, everyone gets to suffer. But those who love, even when it hurts, end up as they should be, chiseled into something strong, while those who run from love's sorrows remain the lump of sludgy clay, with a few dents in the wrong spots. It's dangerous. It's ugly.
Love takes guts, responsibility, a willingness to take the low road sometimes (meaning you get gypped and someone else gets to breeze by). It's more fun and carefree not to love, but it's selfish. And you hurt people in the process, even when you don't see it and they won't show it-- we're all trying to cover up in some way. It's hard to see this when you're young and the world is lying before you. But every day you choose to be selfish instead of selfless, instead of loving, a piece of that world crumbles and eventually you're off limits, painted into the corner.
I'm sitting on the floor typing this while snacking obsessively on Cap'n Crunch Berries. After a soccer game all I wanted was something sugary-- the orange sufficed by the Crunch Berries beckoned. Needless to say, this isn't coming from some fabulously romantic setting. But I love people. I've had the shit kicked out of me for it, and I made the attempt to shut down-- my personal route was numbness. I wish I could put into words what it was that convinced me the cost of numb safety was too great, too high, but let it suffice that now I believe it.
I wonder if the famous love chapter in Corinthians, when it says love bears all things, it means love keeps on loving even after it hurts. Now, that doesn't mean lay yourself down in front of someone who's cruel or doesn't care-- that's not love. And it doesn't mean be nice to the guy who refuses to respect women or the girl who loves to tease-- that certainly isn't love either. Sometimes love means removing yourself. Sometimes it means saying what you know will unravel your relationship. If loves bears all things, though, it will go through the pain of loving, even after it's been crushed again and again.
I love the exhortation to speak the truth in love. It seems people only ascribe to one half or the other. One set of people love to speak truth, and they do so without regard, without tact, they dig deep into a person's skull to see them cry out in pain. Others just like the 'in love' part, being nice no matter what the person needs, never saying something that might offend.
Neither option is okay. Speaking the truth in love means telling the truth, and doing so in love, with love as motivation, shaping the action of telling the truth, which everyone needs to hear, even if they know it (especially if they know it!)
I've been in Seattle now for over a year and sometimes it feels like an extinguished flame. The culture here is all about being nice, even at the cost of truth. People are allowed to go on in habits that eventually destroy them, hurting others in the meantime, because nobody in the place to say something steps in and takes the risk. Friends fall over themselves to let someone know how awesome they are, but when the times comes for correction of a blind spot... silence. No recognition of the rough edges. Maybe it's done out of fear- if you know your own gritty patches, maybe nobody else will notice if you pretend not to notice theirs. And suddenly look, we're all wonderful people who just keep the blinders on because...it's easier. There's the Christian version of this, the one that says "Oh, no body's perfect." Obviously. Therefore, we sometimes need to speak up and be spoken to. It's hard to know when to speak, that's true. But wouldn't it be amazing to have friends who could take it if you spoke at the wrong time, knowing it came out of love?
I let out a sigh here, because life could be so much more. Speaking truth is like watering the grass, like a sunny day breaking through the fog or a cold beer on a hot day at a ball game. It clears away the dead patches and makes way for life. Truth- surely every soul thirsts for it like an oasis in Death Valley. Funny thing about desert springs-- without them you'd die. So without truth, death must have the upper hand. Truth takes a risk, just like love. They must go hand in hand. Well, I'll end off with CS Lewis, naturally...
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. but in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell."
- Numbness, so that you just don't feel anything, pleasure or pain, at least not past a certain point. There are the little thrills, the adrenaline of the moment or of other things, but no ecstasies of love or unquenchable sorrows.
- Distraction. Being so busy with things that keep you moving, be it sports or cross stitching or socializing, if you don't have time to think you don't have time to take action when the possibility of greater love comes, or realize how empty your starved heart has become.
- Just not caring. You can get there, it's totally possible. And you can ride high on the waves of admiration for your 'confidence' which is thinly disguised arrogance and a strong source for self-loathing, which only feeds on itself.
The way I see it, everyone gets to suffer. But those who love, even when it hurts, end up as they should be, chiseled into something strong, while those who run from love's sorrows remain the lump of sludgy clay, with a few dents in the wrong spots. It's dangerous. It's ugly.
Love takes guts, responsibility, a willingness to take the low road sometimes (meaning you get gypped and someone else gets to breeze by). It's more fun and carefree not to love, but it's selfish. And you hurt people in the process, even when you don't see it and they won't show it-- we're all trying to cover up in some way. It's hard to see this when you're young and the world is lying before you. But every day you choose to be selfish instead of selfless, instead of loving, a piece of that world crumbles and eventually you're off limits, painted into the corner.
I'm sitting on the floor typing this while snacking obsessively on Cap'n Crunch Berries. After a soccer game all I wanted was something sugary-- the orange sufficed by the Crunch Berries beckoned. Needless to say, this isn't coming from some fabulously romantic setting. But I love people. I've had the shit kicked out of me for it, and I made the attempt to shut down-- my personal route was numbness. I wish I could put into words what it was that convinced me the cost of numb safety was too great, too high, but let it suffice that now I believe it.
I wonder if the famous love chapter in Corinthians, when it says love bears all things, it means love keeps on loving even after it hurts. Now, that doesn't mean lay yourself down in front of someone who's cruel or doesn't care-- that's not love. And it doesn't mean be nice to the guy who refuses to respect women or the girl who loves to tease-- that certainly isn't love either. Sometimes love means removing yourself. Sometimes it means saying what you know will unravel your relationship. If loves bears all things, though, it will go through the pain of loving, even after it's been crushed again and again.
I love the exhortation to speak the truth in love. It seems people only ascribe to one half or the other. One set of people love to speak truth, and they do so without regard, without tact, they dig deep into a person's skull to see them cry out in pain. Others just like the 'in love' part, being nice no matter what the person needs, never saying something that might offend.
Neither option is okay. Speaking the truth in love means telling the truth, and doing so in love, with love as motivation, shaping the action of telling the truth, which everyone needs to hear, even if they know it (especially if they know it!)
I've been in Seattle now for over a year and sometimes it feels like an extinguished flame. The culture here is all about being nice, even at the cost of truth. People are allowed to go on in habits that eventually destroy them, hurting others in the meantime, because nobody in the place to say something steps in and takes the risk. Friends fall over themselves to let someone know how awesome they are, but when the times comes for correction of a blind spot... silence. No recognition of the rough edges. Maybe it's done out of fear- if you know your own gritty patches, maybe nobody else will notice if you pretend not to notice theirs. And suddenly look, we're all wonderful people who just keep the blinders on because...it's easier. There's the Christian version of this, the one that says "Oh, no body's perfect." Obviously. Therefore, we sometimes need to speak up and be spoken to. It's hard to know when to speak, that's true. But wouldn't it be amazing to have friends who could take it if you spoke at the wrong time, knowing it came out of love?
I let out a sigh here, because life could be so much more. Speaking truth is like watering the grass, like a sunny day breaking through the fog or a cold beer on a hot day at a ball game. It clears away the dead patches and makes way for life. Truth- surely every soul thirsts for it like an oasis in Death Valley. Funny thing about desert springs-- without them you'd die. So without truth, death must have the upper hand. Truth takes a risk, just like love. They must go hand in hand. Well, I'll end off with CS Lewis, naturally...
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. but in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell."
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