Complete, Embarrassing Love

Last week’s fellowship talk was about the father’s embarrassing love. How we often ask him to show us his intimacy, but feel awkward or uncomfortable anticipating what that could look like. It might make me unacceptable to people around me. I might be compelled to act in socially weird ways. I know I’m cautious in the extent to which I engage in his love, which is a silly notion when I look at it in print. Why should I care what others think? Right now, I can type things like, ‘I want to experience the father’s love to its full extent.’ Those words are safe on the screen. They’re good, upright yearnings, and they can stay where they are – an inactive journal page. When those words come off the screen and come out of my mouth, something changes. his spirit challenges the words; testing them against the Book and his definition of love.

First John says that no one has seen the father, but through loving one another, he lives in us and his love is made complete. So, when I ask for his love, I am really asking for opportunities to love others. It’s as if he’s saying, “Brooke, do you want to see my love? You’re going to watch it coming from your own mouth and your own hands.” Rarely have I thanked him for times when showing love was difficult or uncomfortable. Those are the times when I most rely on the father’s heart for that person because my insufficiency is starkly apparent.

I yearn to live in the comfort of a predictable bubble, but I yearn to see the father’s love without boundaries. Why do I make it a tug-of-war? Is it possible that I’ll eventually delight in being uncomfortable, just so I may get one more sip of his uninhibited love? I’ve always liked more difficult hikes because it feels good to work hard for the view. Showing the father’s love is similar, only he is hiking with me, carrying the pack. This word picture is a little cheesy in a “Footsteps in the Sand” sort of way, but really powerful too.

When I consider situations where I might show love, orphanages and homeless people come to mind. Playing with a disabled Chinese orphan would certainly be a story. But, I’m guessing I won’t have to go that far today. There are neighbors in my stairwell that I could invite for dinner. Knocking on a stranger’s door and beginning that “Hello, I’m the foreigner who lives upstairs and I think we should know each other better…” conversation is terrifying. I don’t know where the opportunities will be – whether I should be looking for them, or waiting for the father to bring them, or some combination of those things.

Today, may we be presented with opportunities to love one another. May we use his resources before we come to the end of our own, so we may see his love active and complete here on earth. May he embarrass us with a love that goes beyond all intellectual capacity.