Friday night, I sat on a park bench in downtown Byron Bay, with a cardboard sign that read “What’s your definition of love?” My team did it together, with each of us holding a different sign. We were hoping to elicit responses and start conversations and just provoke thought really. We fully expected to be cussed at, or told we were crazy or have some drunk fool get in our faces. Yeah, some of that happened. Some of it happened more than once (I promise I was safe, Mom!). But there were a few surprising responses and moments…
Like Ronald*. He was maybe in his late ’50s or early ’60s. He walked past my sign, came back and asked me some questions, had a phone call so left, came back and chatted some more, took another phone call, then came back 30 minutes later to finish the conversation. His big thing was that God is love, but who/what is God.
Of course, there were the drunk responses. I heard a lot of “My definition of love is sex,” although not always put that delicately. There was a lot of “I don’t know, what do you think?” And I did get laughed at a good bit.
But that was ok. Because my definition of love made it ok.
My definition of love is someone who would willingly and without hesitation die for me. Would die for me, knowing how much I would hurt him, but doing it anyway. The only one who ever did that was Jesus. And I told that to everyone that passed by or asked me.
I told them yeah, God is love, and I can’t believe in a God that is love not giving us a way to be with Him for all eternity. I told them His love is enough to cover any sin, no matter what the elders in your church say. I told them I would give up anything or anyone for Jesus because He’s the only one who ever truly and completely loved me.
Jesus loves Ronald. Jesus loves Lana. Jesus loves Todd And Jesus loves you. HE is the definition of love.
*note: all names have been changed
