The Hope of Love

Love is fragile. It is incredibly sensitive. It is an intangible think of substance. It can be stronger than death enduring to the depths of the grave yet at the same time as translucent and mystical as a vapor. It can meander itself into the core of who you are – attach itself to your deepest desires and hopes and then in a moment rip you to shreds. It looks logic and reason in the face and says, "I dare you."

Love speaks to the very essence of why we were created. To know deeply and be deeply known. This interaction between two souls, whether it be friends, family, or a spouse does something to us. It invites and sometimes forces us unto the uncomfortable place of risk. 

But I don't like risk. 

It hasn't worked out very well for me in the past. Life has afforded me, as it has most of us, a heap of disappointments. Some great, some small. Broken families, people leaving, death, misunderstandings, inaccurate perceptions of reality; all these things causing the same pain in the core of our beings. The pain of hope lost. 

As hope shattered through the affairs of life lived in a fallen world, I found myself putting on the only armor that made sense to protect against the pains and disappointments that life inevitably brought.

The armor of denial. 

If I don't want or expect this person to show up, it won't hurt so bad when they don't. If I don't let myself get attached to this individual, it won't be so bad when they leave. If I don't let this person know me deeply and intimately, I will be safer from the pain and disappointment they might bring. If I don't desire love or allow it in my inner most being, I'm safe from the possibility of pain and brokenness.

All of these things done in the name of safety… in the name of life.

But this isn't life. 

         

C.S. Lewis says this about love:

"Love,

There is no safe investment. 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 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. I believe that the most lawless and inordinate loves are less contrary to God’s will than a self-invited and self-protective lovelessness…We shall draw nearer to God, not by trying to avoid the sufferings inherent in all loves, but by accepting them and offering them to Him; throwing away all defensive armor. If our hearts need to be broken, and if He chooses this as a way in which they should break, so be it. What I know about love and believe about love and giving ones heart began in this. "

—

Love is a risk. Absolutely. To believe in love is maybe the most illogical, unsafe thing we could ever do. But I am beginning to agree with Lewis: "the most lawless and inordinate loves are less contrary to God's will than a self-invited and self-protective lovelessness." 

Our God is not only a God of love, but He IS love. To live life striving to never allow love free range in the name of self-protection is not of God. He doesn't delight in that. He certainly understands our hurt and heartbreak but rather than that giving us excuse to disengage He invites us to press into the pain and disappointments with Him. To lay our hearts in His hand and trust Him.

In that place He can be all that we need.

So, I am stepping back into the heartbreaks of life for a while with the Father and I am believing that something great awaits on the other side…. the hope of love. 

 

*all photos taken by my dear friend, Katuschka Rakovec