The hall was long and dark. Bunk beds lined the walls, each
draped with children and blankets, the rough orange wool pulled up around thin
shoulders, muffling giggles and whispers. “Shhhhhhh…”, the older ones hissed,
sending the younger ones deep undercover to stifle the offending laughter.
There were echoes of running feet and affectionate shouting down other halls,
but those sleepy-time moments in that long dark hall are always hushed and
hallowed in my memory.
Every night I stood before them. With halting, faltering
Albanian I read them a bedtime story, sang them a goodnight song, and tucked
them in. Each one received a kiss on the forehead, a cuddle, and these words: “Naten e mire, gjume te embel. Zoti te bekofte
dhe mos harro se te dua”: “Good night, sweet dreams. God bless you and
don’t forget that I love you.”
Years later, my goodnight memories of the orphanage remain some
of my favorite; certain songs bring me right back to the dark echoing hall, the
muffled giggles, and the smell of orphaned foreheads. Even now, I repeat those
words to dear friends who come to visit and stay “Good night, sweet dreams. God
bless you, and don’t forget that I love you.”
I was learning then and am still learning now much about love,
how it looks and sounds and is lived out; what it means to give love bones and
skin and breath. Romantic comedies and pop ballads make it seem as simple as
falling, but the truth is love requires more effort than I often feel capable
of. It requires as much dedication and diligence, as much passion and sweat as
a magnificent work of art; the personal cost it exacts always reflects the
depth of its reward.
I am learning that love is the goal of my faith. Years ago, when
I was settling into life in Germany, when I was making the transition from
serving children with nothing to serving children with everything (and everyone
in between), I asked the Lord how to accomplish the task. I didn’t know what to
say to them. I didn’t know how to relate to them. I didn’t know how to
introduce them to the God who loved them. Down a tree-lined path under leaves
gilded by the afternoon sun I walked, begging my Lord for wisdom, “What should
I do?” I waited, expecting a plan, a program–a nudge in some direction, at the
very least.
The answer came softly, riding on the cool edge of a breeze
sugared with the scent of honeysuckle and sweet hay, “Love Me and love them–the
rest will follow.”
That sounded simple enough. I assumed they were marching orders
to get the ball rolling. I could do it for a few months and then I was sure God
would reveal His grand plan for revealing Himself. I did my best at loving all
involved and a few months later asked again.
“All right, Lord. I’ve been loving them. Now what should I
do?”
Quietly then, on the dancing steam of a coffee cup by the ledge
of an icy window…
“Love Me and love them–the rest will follow”
Hadn’t I done that? No matter how many times as I asked,
however, I received the same answer: “Love Me and love them–the rest will
follow.”
Years on, I have realized that there really is no other answer.
Jesus, Himself, makes it clear that every facet of faith (“All the Law and
Prophets”) hang on those marching orders: “Love the Lord your God with all
your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and
greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as
yourself.” (Matthew 22:37-39).
I am learning that faith in Christ is not about programs or
formulas or cultural taboos. It’s not about being the ‘behavior police’ or
standing firm against ‘enemies’ or whether our political pendulum swings left
or right. The foundation of our faith is love. The expression of our faith is
love. The goal of our faith is love.
It is clearly stated in the Bible: “The only thing that
counts is faith expressing itself through love.” (Galatians 5:6). Why,
then, do we settle for a definition of faith that is anything less?
Perhaps because love, real love, is difficult. Following
formulas and creating programs and ticking off boxes is, quite frankly, easier
than investing a piece of yourself in someone else. The demands of real love
are vigorous–they call us to sacrificial living: choosing to value another’s
needs over our comfort, giving away what we’d like to keep, serving when we
have every right to be served ourselves. There are no timecards to be punched,
no holidays, no long weekends off when it comes to love. True love is much less
a sentimental dream than it is a tangible reality involving ears and knees and
dishpan hands.
I am learning that true love is hard. It holds on long after
feelings are gone. It digs down and settles in, determined to carry on, despite
whatever response it elicits. Affection endears those who love in return; love
loves for the sake of loving, no matter what the reaction. Love stays up late,
gets up early, and lets someone else take the last piece of chocolate cake.
Love, however, as impossible an endeavor as it may seem at times,
is always worth the effort. It is the only thing that will reveal to a hurting
world the truth that God wants to heal their broken hearts. This is why we are
reminded to do it so often, and why it is God’s first and greatest command.
I think it is His greatest command not just in the sense that it
is the most important, but also in the sense that it is the ‘greatest’–the most
wonderful, the most incredible, the most fulfilling. I love knowing the most
important job God gave me was to love–not to be perfect, not to be tidy,
not to be successful, but to love.
I am learning that love has its own rewards; that the process of
loving changes me and that the bits of myself I have given away somehow
multiply and double back, flooding the hollows they had left behind in my
heart. Loving someone deeply, presenting them with the knowledge of their own
intrinsic glory, watching their walls of pain slowly crumble and blow away is
worth every lost moment of sleep, every inconvenient conversation, every sink
of soapy water. Loving God and loving others has been the greatest experience,
bar none, of my life. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.
And I know God must feel the same, for He gives me moments that
I believe He wouldn’t trade for anything. Has it ever happened to you? Have you
ever taken a walk, minding your own business, and then turned a corner and been
suddenly swept up in a golden storm of sunset? The yellow blush of sky on earth
casting rivers and fields in hues of heaven; the wind laughing through tall
grasses, the leaves in the trees rushing to great heights and depths in the
dance of eventide. Have the colors breathed out by evening ever made your heart
break? They did mine. And all my soul could say was, “I love You, I love You, I
love You…”
I don’t know why my God loves me so much. But He does. And if
loving those around me is what makes Him happy, then it is my privilege to do
it. After all, He's never asked me to love anyone more than He first loved me.
My marching orders remain the same–I don’t even ask anymore.
“Love Me and love them–the rest will follow.” It always does.
And so, naten e mire,
dear ones. Gjume ju embel. Zoti ju
bekofte dhe mos harroni se ju dua. “Good night, sweet dreams. God bless you
and don’t forget that I love you…”
