February is a month when we hear many expressions of love. There’s Valentine’s Day, and between our two families, lots of birthdays. I don’t wish in any way to question the sincerity of any of these expressions. I have realized, though, that there is something very deep here that is worth exploring. At home, I have a file labeled “Love will find a way.” Our friend Alex in Romania says “Love creates ways.”
While this thought has been on my mind for a few days, I haven’t known exactly how to say it, until one of the speakers in church shared the perfect illustration. She visited Israel many years ago with a study abroad program. One afternoon, while standing on a hill overlooking a lake, he heard a man’s voice. At first, she didn’t see him, but in a moment, she saw a man dressed in long robes come around the side of the hill below her. He was singing a very simple yet compelling tune. He was followed by a long line of sheep. There was plenty of green grass everywhere, but they didn’t stop to graze. They followed the humble shepherd out of sight. Why? She offered this powerful explanation. He was there when they were born. He nurtured them when they were sick or injured, and carried them when they were unable to walk. He protected them from danger. From birth, they looked to this humble shepherd in every aspect of their lives.
Similarly, I have seen countless times when love has found a way when every other motivation (wealth, obligation, fear) failed. The love of a parent (especially a mother) endures and sacrifices when there is no possibility of anything in return. Love can be creative, seeking solutions, when other forces weaken or become distracted. It is not dependent on events or behaviors.
I share one example. When my first wife Shelley died, I was sustained for many months by family and friends and the pull of a demanding church calling. When the time came for another to assume that responsibility, I found myself in a dark and lonely place. A close friend then gave me a precious gift, a week of his time. We rode our bicycles together over a considerable distance, allowing time for conversation, silence and physical exercise. That week changed my life forever and I will always be grateful. I felt loved and it lead to healing.
I share one example. When my first wife Shelley died, I was sustained for many months by family and friends and the pull of a demanding church calling. When the time came for another to assume that responsibility, I found myself in a dark and lonely place. A close friend then gave me a precious gift, a week of his time. We rode our bicycles together over a considerable distance, allowing time for conversation, silence and physical exercise. That week changed my life forever and I will always be grateful. I felt loved and it lead to healing.