Three days ago I used a dry erase marker to write, “Love is patient and kind” on my bathroom mirror. I hoped that by writing it there, I’d be forced to mediate upon it while brushing my teeth or putting on mascara or the more common gnashing of my teeth when asked to give patience and kindness away.
There’s more than that sentence in I Corinthians. Things like, “Love does not envy or boast,” or “ Love bears all things, believe all things, hopes all things, endures all things,” but at the moment, those “things” were too much for me, and I knew that writing Love is patient and kind would be enough to refine me for the week. Maybe the month. Maybe the year. When I wrote that little sentence, I wanted to believe it, to let it soak into my heart somewhere, to eat it like Jeremiah says is chapter 15 verse 16.
“Your words were found, and I ate them,
and your words became to me a joy
and the delight of my heart,
for I am called by your name,
O LORD, God of hosts.”
When I wrote that sentence, I intended to put myself through the fire- let myself get a little burned, or a lot burned- in the hopes that my selfishness and lack of compassion would be turned to ashes, and from those ashes, something beautiful might be allowed to thrive.
Don’t get me wrong, I do nice things for people. I lend notes, I do favors, I do a lot of favors actually, and I give myself and time to those who need it. And all of this time, I was convinced that I was patient and kind, until a few months ago when I began to pray to be more compassionate towards others.
And the day came for me to be “kind” like usual, but I realized I was being selfish, and impatient, and I was doing something I absolutely had no heart to do, and though on the outside all appearance would suggest I was being generous; in my heart, my heels were shoved inches deep into the ground, and I was being dragged into kindness, screaming the whole time. And God opened my eyes to just how selfish I really am. God, yet again, revealed to me the true nature of my heart, and it wasn’t full of compassion and unconditional love.
I started to reflect over my past given favors, and it was simple to find a pattern. On most occasions, I absolutely did not want to do what was asked of me on the grounds that “they” never did anything for me. Selfish. I was thinking, “I always give, and I always do, but no one ever takes thought for me.” I was convinced that if others thought of me and what I wanted, they wouldn’t ask me to give so much or so often. They would realize that I was tired, or busy, or that they needed to take more initiative to get things done and not rely on me as their back-up plan, but apparently this didn’t happen because I was still being asked pretty often to do things that I just didn’t want to do.
When I realized that I have a tendency to do this, I couldn’t shake off the guilt, and not so much guilt as conviction. Conviction that in the MANY times I have had the opportunity to show the Lord’s love and compassion and to be a free hand to those who needed it, I’ve clung to my own wants and comforts and have only done kind things because I’ve wanting to deflect the conflict or confrontation from those who asked of me.
And at night, I thought of Jesus. I thought of how much he gave, and I’m not talking about the crucifixion. We all know how much that cost, but I’m talking about his life, his daily want to give of himself. Think of the people who only wanted to be near him to gain; the people who asked for miracles or healing, those who had sinned previously and were facing consequences and wanted to be “fixed.” I think about all of the people who gathered around him grabbing at his cloak, reaching for his shoes and his arms, pulling and tugging, wanting and needing, and he didn’t run. He didn’t turn away. He didn’t remind them that what they got is what they had coming, he just said, “be forgive,” and they were healed, but more so, they were loved, and in that love, they learned of something bigger and grander than their physical and immediate needs, and their lives were changed by it. Jesus loved in such a way that it fully impacted everyone around him. For some, it made them believers, for others, it made them haters, but either way, his love was loud and obnoxious and it couldn’t be ignored.
I’d lie there and stare at my ceiling and just think, “how did you do it?” How did you not become empty? How did you just give and give and give? And then this thought came to mind and it was quite simple and obvious, and that was God. Jesus was God, I know, but the more I thought about it, the more amazing it was. I’m not God, but God resides in me, right? So, if I want to love people like God and I want to be compassionate like God, I have to let God do that through me. I have to forget about my wants and my needs and I have to just love people for who or what they are and how they got to who or what they are because God would have me love them despite all of those things.
What’s funny is that when you think of loving people as an opportunity to show them God’s love and to have God’s love grow in you, something changes. I’m not saying I’m radically different, but already I can feel the Lord breaking down my callused heart even more and making it more sympathetic and tender, and in the times I’ve been asked to do favors since this refinement began, I find myself feeling joy when I do someone a favor because it was an opportunity to love them, and I find myself growing in compassion…weird.
I’m so thankful for the joy and the growing love because, honestly, the burning of knowing how selfish I am, and how little I go out of my way to shower people with genuine love and compassion really bothered me. It’s hard to see the bad things about yourself, you know this. It’s hard for me to see really bad things about myself, especially when they are things that I don’t necessarily want to change, but thank God for grace and mercy and his gentle hand that is able to change our stony hearts into something nice and mushy. The burn hurts, but I desperately needed it.
So, on most days, before I go to bed, and as soon as I rise, my first thought is, “Love is patient and kind,” and when that phrase has become a part of my heart, I’ll move on to the second line, and I’m sure I’ll be burned again, and again, and again…but God has called us to love, and so love I will do.
