Team Wrecking Ball celebrates Valentine’s Day 2011 in Siem Reap, Cambodia
Today is Valentine’s Day. Swatches of red and pink have been
vomited over all of America on this day of love. Men buy roses and other last
minute, seemingly romantic gifts like heart-shaped chocolates and teddy bears
the size of an 8th grader. Parents negotiate with children on which
valentine cards are appropriate for both the girls and boys in their children’s
classes and just how much money they are willing to spend on the darn things
anyway. I can’t help but smile, I really love this holiday.
Yesterday, I did a little last minute shopping myself for
friends and family, getting their favorite candies and trinkets to show I care.
Suddenly, as I pass the card section and see a group of men, an array of
ages and socioeconomic backgrounds, it hits me: no man anywhere is doing this for
me. My feelings of happiness and generosity sink as my voice turns shaky inside
my throat even though I’m not actually speaking. I race to the self-checkout. I
desire zero human interaction at this point as I try not to think about the
pitiful reality staring me in the face.
People often say that Valentine’s Day is actually “singles
awareness day” when girls drink too much wine and eat too much chocolate only
to wake on the 15th even more depressed than the 14th
because of their caloric intake the night before. As kids, Mom always made
Valentine’s feel like a family holiday, giving little gifts and goodies,
celebrating all those we love, not just romantically. We left notes around our
pink and red heart-decorated house and I’d strategically sneak Red Hots from
the glass jar with the red lid. I love Red Hots. Because we celebrated this way, I never felt lonely when the holiday rolls around sans a
significant other, at lease not until that moment around the Hallmarks.
The next morning, this morning, which is Valentine’s Day, I
opened the greatest love letter of all, the Word of God. This morning, I am not
thinking about fairy tale romances or loneliness, Prince Charming or that guy
at the gym who always stares. I am not thinking about who is or isn’t buying me
flowers. No, I’m thinking about TRUE LOVE. Anyone who doesn’t
love remains in death. True love means dying, but it doesn’t end there:TRUE LOVE brings LIFE. Long before
Cupid started shooting his arrows, Christ gave the gift of true love and life.
And this is how we know
what love is: Jesus Christ laid down His life for us and we ought to lay down
our lives for our brothers. 1 John 3:16
Talk about a game-changer. The moment I begin to feel sorry
for myself is the moment I pervert what love really is. Love isn’t about me;
it’s about me laying my life down for someone else because that is what Christ
did for me, for the world. So, here’s to you, World, I’m not going to love you because I love
what you do for me, I am going to love you because Christ first loved me and
called me to live a life of love. I may not actually ever lose my life over it,
but I will make sacrifices, put your needs above mine, and love you. Today and
forever. Even if it takes a little pink and red candy-filled holiday to remind
me.
When blood and water hit the
ground
Walls we couldn’t move came
crashing down
We were free and made alive
The day that True
Love died
Now Jesus is alive,
He is alive
-True Love, Phil
Wickham
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