THE IRRATIONALITY OF LOVE

Early Sunday morning we were on the road headed north. I had visions of our arriving at the hospital in Chicago in time for labor. Before we had gotten past Thompson's Furniture on #37, we received the following text: "Maxwell James Fenstermacher born happy, healthy and is already fed! 7 lbs 4 ozs and 20 inches." That stunning good news provoked an unexpected reaction: I began crying. (A manly kind of tears, of course. Quiet tears. The kind of tears that wouldn't embarrass John Wayne or Clint Eastwood or Daniel Craig.)

Later that afternoon I had the opportunity to hold Max. I'm good at holding babies. They have this way of "fitting" my arms. Max is named after my biological father, who died on the mission field in Africa as a very young man. I looked down at Max, and we talked for a few minutes. I did most of the talking. He would open his eyes and try to focus, looking up at me. I told him who I was, I told him I was looking forward to adventures together, I told him I loved him, I told him I wanted us to make the most of the time, and then I couldn't talk. The reason I chattered quietly as we sat in a corner of the room at Prentice Hospital is that I wanted Max to know the sound of my voice. I held him, and then I couldn't say another word. We sat. I looked down at him. And there were more quiet tears...

Where were these feelings coming from? This was like stepping into a mountain stream where the water should only be six or eight inches deep, and suddenly you're finding yourself up to your hips in fast-moving water! How could this current be so strong, so soon?

There is an irrationality of love. A poet once said, "The heart has reasons which reason knows nothing of."  

To believe we are loved, through and through, is a challenge for many of us. Because, I think, we have been told by so many that there are these things we must accomplish or know to measure up. There are people and institutions in the world that want to turn love into a motivational "carrot" we earn by our work, knowledge, power, position or obedience.

From time to time I have people come to me and say I should spend more time in my preaching talking about sin and hell. I point out two things. First, I talk a great deal about brokenness, addiction, fear, and self-centeredness, which are all synonymous with sin. Second, I believe most of us are only too aware of our failures and brokenness: the real challenge for many of us is to dare to believe that we are loved. We magnify our faults and brokenness and doubt that we could be totally, radically loved through and through - especially by God.

There is a wonderful moment in the Torah where God is carrying on a conversation with the people of Israel. The question being asked is, "Why did God choose us to be God's chosen people?" (Note: Remember Israel was chosen not for privilege but for service. To be chosen by God means you are called -especially the church as the New Israel- to serve and give yourselves away as a light to the nations.) God responds to the question by saying (basically), "I didn't choose you because you were the most powerful nation. I didn't choose you because you were the most faithful nation. I didn't choose you because you were the most creative people. I chose you because....I just did. You weren't much, according to the world, and I just decided to love you." (Look in the opening chapter of 1st Corinthians and you'll hear Paul saying basically the same thing.)

Love is a strange, wonderful, wild thing. Love is, in so many ways, irrational. It is not an earned thing, but it is a given. It just is. God so loved the world, John 3:16 says, that God gave God's only Son as a gift to the world so that we might have life.

In an hour or so we'll hold Max, welcome him home from the hospital, and then head off.   In every word, in every touch, I want him to begin to understand that he is loved in a "always and forever" kind of way. Not just by me, but by the God who knit him together while he was Sarah's womb. I want him to know he is loved by the same One who created space and time and hydrogen and music, who carved the mountains, hung the stars, and shaped the aspen leaf.  

Maybe that isn't just the work of a Mom and Dad, a Grandma or Grandpa, but perhaps that is the fundamental mission of each one of us: to let the whole world know it is loved by God in an "always and forever" kind of way. That's what we are saying, as the Jesus community, when we baptize tall people and little people: "You are loved."  

It doesn't make sense, maybe, but you are loved. The steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting, we're told.

My prayer is that you will know this as you step into a new year. My prayer is that you will trust this as you step into a new year. Stop arguing with this love, stop trying to diagram it, stop trying to figure it out: just accept the gift and live it out!

Why do I love this person I hold in my arms so much...how can this be happening so quickly? It doesn't make sense. It's irrational.

Welcome, Max.  You've got me.

And God has you...

Grace and peace in Christ,

Mark