Could Love Be My Forte?

By Heather Allen –

Love is not my forte. But I am clearly not alone. I was practically run over by a monster truck. While slowing down to make a turn, I inconvenienced him. His wild gesturing and finger raising left me with that impression anyway. The word love is used to encompass many feelings, but rarely shows up in its true form. I am guilty of this. I have professed a love for Ben & Jerry’s. Ice cream is much easier to love than the crazy man riding my bumper.Today I looked around the table at the women I was having lunch with. Unexpectedly, the thought hit: I am completely alone. I looked into their faces and wondered if they felt alone too. And then one of them started to share what God was doing. She had tears in her eyes. We leaned in, nodded, understood. The aloneness faded; common ground does that.

I took my son to rent a movie. We stood at the Redbox outside  Walgreen’s. Both startled when a woman came roaring past, screaming at her toddlers. My son looked up at me, silently imploring me to do something. I looked down into his big blue eyes shaking my head and wondering what these children’s lives must be like when no one is watching. I quietly said, “Pray.”

My sadness gave way to a suppressed grin when he stood with his hands straightened, palms pressed together. He looked down the sidewalk after every silent petition, monitoring the success of his prayers. I stared blankly at the video checkout screen, opting for more time. I too prayed, “God what should I do?”  I exhaled as I heard her growl threatening words to her children. She demanded they sit, not move, and not be children.

We walked to the car. Her middle child, who appeared to be about two, eagerly waved goodbye to my son. And before I could think, or decide what to say, I was kneeling in front of her. What I saw was a broken woman. Funny, I went from wanting to lecture her on parenting to longing to wrap her in my arms and cry with her. We are all broken in some way; it’s a common bond.

A heart can only carry so much distrust, insecurity, fear, and anger. The hurts pile up like dead bodies, one on top of the other.  And decay flows, oozing with rancid words. The deadened heart needs to be held, and resuscitated.  Loved, before it is cleansed.

“As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins” (Ephesians 2:1, NIV).

“But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy,    made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions – it is by grace you have been saved.” (Ephesians 2:5, NIV).

I long to see people through clean, grace-giving eyes. To esteem others, as God’s beloved, is what He asks of me. The painful part is learning to pay myself less attention.  I work on turning my affections towards someone else, yet there I am wishing my efforts would be noticed. But then God’s Spirit moves, and I find myself doing things I never planned, speaking words that are not mine. “That’s not me, that’s you.”

I smile, my heart swelling with gratitude. God takes me, a broken girl, and fills the cracks with love. He is not swayed by what I look like, what I do, or whom I know. Oh, that I would follow Him in loving others who are broken.