Uncertain Love

I love this picture and I love what it says about my precious husband. I took it after Sam and I had gotten married and were having our first visit with the rest of the family. Sam is shown here with my nephew, Leonard, who appears to be rather uncertain about this man hugging on him. Sam could not have been more pleased to have a new nephew who could sometimes be goofy, sometimes warm, sometimes playful--just like him.

I've written other posts about Sam's hugging of people--it is a wonderful, Latin habit of his. After being in Peru, I'm thinking seriously about being more like him. It is a lovely way of being. You hug people to greet them and to say goodbye. And you can hug them any number of times in between. Sam is a very warm, personable man whom I adore. His warmth has endeared him to many people. Just not Leonard yet (in this picture).

This picture reminds me of my prayer this morning on my walk. I was talking to God about how many times He's pulled me through tight situations. I've learned to trust Him and know something about His steadfastness. I also have learned about His miracles and ability to pull something marvelous--greater than anything we can imagine--out of thin air. So His majesty and ability to provide for me are not in question. There are times I'm called to wait--more times than I wish--but experience has proven that He is trustworthy and does the right thing at the right time. I would not wish things different if I could see the end from the beginning--I'm convinced of that. But what I'm not so sure about is God's loves for me.

Oh yes, the Bible is clear about how much God loves us. The entire Bible is one story after another that demonstrates the way God treats us. But recently, in my own life, I have not focused on God's love for me and it is not what is foremost when I approach Him. I've focused on doing the right things or asking Him to use me, or what I would like Him to do for other people. I've marveled aloud to Him about the things He has done and the perfect timing of His will and ways. I've thanked Him over and over for numerous things every day: my health, job, husband, family, home, opportunities, hope, the morning skies--all the beauty and loveliness of a Southern California winter morning.

Therapists call this, aboutism. Talking about everything outside of the room and not what is in the room: the therapist and the client, and what is happening between them. So when I stop a client's long story about what happened when they got angry last week with their gardener and how they told him off, their eyes flashing and fists clenching, I have to stop them and ask them about the here-and-now: "And what's happening while you're telling me this right now?" Suddenly they can see me. I'm not invisible any more while their eyes focus on what happened in another time and place. We begin talking about what is in the room and everything changes.

As far as knowing that God loves me, Barbara, more than I can imagine--this is something that I've not thought of for some time. I feel like Leonard in the picture: standing close to God but there's something in the eyes that tells you that love is not foremost in his mind at this point. Even in the face of the most generous, unabashed displays of affection. I've been so busy talking to God about other people and situations that need His intervention that I've stopped seeing Him. I've been lost in aboutism.

If I think ahead to the future of living forever with God, knowing that the timing or miracles of Jesus are perfect and greater than anything we can imagine--these things will not sustain a relationship over millions of years. But God's love for me, this will sustain me. I asked God to forgive me this morning, for always approaching Him out of my own selfish needs and ideas. But as a human, is there much else I can do? Even my reaching out for God comes out of an awareness that I need something different than what I have within myself.

Perhaps God's love is this: He stays near to me in spite of myself--my inability to think the way He does, to be selfless and filled with faith. He keeps giving in the face of my stinginess. The wonderful gifts of husband, home, job that I love--these only continue to grow in goodness--in spite of the fact that I don't deserve even one of them. The sacrifice of heaven in sending Jesus down here so I can hope--so that my morning walks with Him can be fearless, eager conversations with my Papi--my Abba. It could be that if I were suddenly bereft of God, faith in the knowledge of who He is and what He can do, that I would recognize how much I love Him.

The illusiveness of my love for God. If I could just get it out in the open, I could celebrate it. For now, I mull it over in my mind, continue to talk with God about it, and look more closely for evidence and application of His love to me, Barbara. I'm glad He is big enough to entertain my attempts to find and hold Him close, even while He holds me very close.

I have loved thee with an everlasting love.

Therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee.