No
one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is
perfected in us…There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment,
and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love.
-I John 4:12 & 18
…yet, we still run. Even in this time of preparation, of
promise, in this time when we remember an event held up as one of the greatest
proofs of a loving gracious Deity, I am still afraid. There is something about
the Christian concept of Divine Love that is both wondrous and unnerving;
something so intimate, so knowingly
gracious, that it unearths all of my insecurities, my fears, my scars and
the brokenness of my heart. For me, sometimes the unearthing is relieving, but
frequently it is a painful process.
Which is what I think of when I hear the lyric:
Once in Israel
Not
trying to generalize in the least, this is just how I make sense of what it
means to be afraid in the presence of love. Be it the radical tendencies, the searching-and-knowing
nature or just the unfathomable-ness of the Love of God, I do not think I am
the only one who is unnerved (try
explaining to Uncle Larry just how deeply God loves him over the Christmas ham
this year, don’t forget the part about how deeply God loves Larry’s enemies, too).
Maybe that’s just my Uncle Larry, maybe that’s just me. But I wonder if
part of preparing for the coming Love, is recognizing our fear, our unnerved
responses (of whatever variety) examining them, and learning to hold them in our
advent waiting.
Having lived through several cycles of
reflection on the Love that came down at Christmas, I was at first a little
disheartened to be confessing, yet again, that familiar fear that keeps me
running. But as I reflected on the Bible verse above, I found myself wondering about just how it is that fear is ‘cast out’
of us. What if the casting out of fear is not always a single,
powerful moment, as I had previously imagined (perhaps because of the demon
possession imagery that frequently accompanies the verb ‘to cast out’)? What if
it, instead, is a slow drain or a steady tide that deposits more and more love
in us until our fear and pain are pushed out by that love?
Because, luckily for us, Love didn’t just come once in Israel
Divine Love, return again to us.
-Lindsey
This broke me open a little bit today. Thanks, Lindsey.
ReplyDeleteWhy am I running? What am I trying to hide from Love? Am I afraid to let go of my jealousies and resentments? My pride dressed up like humility?
I love that image of wave after wave of love filling us up and leaving no room for fear. The ocean can be powerful and terrifying. I am still most often afraid to submerge my whole body in it, but there is perhaps nothing I love more than getting my feet wet on the shore. The fears keep creeping back in, but the tide is tireless and eternal.
Fear of the freedom, joyfulness and boundlessness of God's love and grace may sound odd, but how does that threaten out comfort with rules and systems? How does that undermine our own quest for "RIGHTeous" living if, as you said, God loves our enemies and the unrighteous as much as God loves us?
ReplyDeleteLove is a risky business, and risking being loved by God feels riskier than most because, as you said, it's so utterly knowing. Thanks for your reminder that that fear is washed away, bit by bit, not just by our OWN efforts to love better (which can get implied in this verse), but rather by that very love offered TO us by God. What an astonishing gift!