Meanderings of Morgs. Journaled on the day. V-day. Good morning, V-day. Pink ink. Never been a fan of pink, but for V-day I guess it can slide.
February 14th – A day dedicated to celebrating love. And what better love to celebrate than Yours? You who emptied Yourself. You who subjected Yourself to shame and destruction and despair. To rescue and pursue a people whose only contribution was idolatry and rejection. Out of pure love, grace, and sheer mercy did You come. You took on our disgrace – You became disgrace in order for us to be rid of it. You became sin and took on the wrath and the agony of separation from Your Father so that we could be adopted into Your family. You died a criminal’s death and then AROSE, bringing darkness to light. How good You are! Your goodness is more than I can fathom. You look at us and see perfection. Wholeness and purity. Your creation no longer in darkness but wrapped and bathed in Your light. Radiant.
I have been learning to love. To truly love. What is love, you ask? How does one love their neighbor in the same manner that they love their own body? More than their own body?
To lay down your life.
What does laying down my life look like?
Getting out of bed to spend time with the Father before teaching preschool. A preschool consisting of a few children but mostly wild animals. Wild animals that climb all over me and wipe their snot and tears on me and try to steal my watch and don’t really want to learn “head shoulders knees and toes” because they’d rather just whack each other with sticks. Sometimes, this is the last thing I want to wake up and do. But that is love. Love for the Father overflows in love for His children. Because when I am clambering around in my Father’s lap seeking His attention and beating my fists against His strong chest and wiping my tears on Him, He does not turn away. He loves.
Showering with a bucket with water from a well in a dark bathroom that I try to avoid at all costs. Dripping and freezing and wishing for my clean, warm bathtub at home that I don’t have to share with anyone else and I…. wait. But what about those who suffer, caked in dirt and filth in an Indian HIV hospital, not even able to lift their own heads? What about the slum children in Nepal who scavenge for recyclables through floating trash in a polluted river? Hoping that the filthy film on top of the water doesn’t add to their excruciating fungal infections? What about the woman in Thailand with the gaping, infected wound who lived under a tarp and couldn’t even afford a bandage? What about the Ethiopian shepherds who got turned away from the well because there wasn’t enough clean water for them? And what about the kids at the Rwandan preschool who are provided with porridge in the mornings and then they go home to a place that might not feed them for the rest of the day? What if they go home and a parent isn’t there and the house is empty and stays empty for days and they don’t know if anyone ever even cared if they continued existing?
What about them?
And then I am thankful for my bucket shower with water from a well that the Lord has so graciously provided. To love the things He gives because He is love and He gives favor.
I have learned that love is embracing those who are suffering because that is how the Father shows love to us. We came to Him dirty, disgusting, defective, and He took us in anyway. We had nothing to offer. He didn’t care. He died. He died for mankind.
He gave me purity, wholeness, a crown of beauty and radiance. He offers it to you as well.
Love is not consumption of what another being has to offer to you. Love is not gorging on things and money and materials in order to fill a void that is unfillable apart from the Void Filler. Love is not saying I need you now, you must be mine now, I want to possess and possess and possess.
Those who suffer and mourn and weep and tarry are dear to the Father. Love gives. Love gives everything. Love dies for it’s neighbor. That is love.
