I’m looking at a couple kids standing around at a gas
station.
They’re not my kids, it’s not even in real time—it’s a
picture, kids I used to know, who used to love each other.
And there’s a waterfall in between—I put it there, the
picture of it: tall rock walls separating these two—but for me it represents
the chasm that has come between these two sweet kids.
See, last year when they went on this trip together, they
stood next to each other. Nothing came between them, every picture and moment
is “together” and they were living in the sweetest, most innocent way of love I
have ever seen. He declared his love for her one night (unintentionally) by
trying to compliment her (we each picked someone on the trip to affirm and
encourage that night) and stammering through saying how wonderful she was.
The beautiful, lucky, absolutely darling thing was that they
had no clue (even though everyone around them could see it): he was just this
awesome kid who didn’t know he loved her and she thought that for sure he couldn’t
love her—they were just best friends who spent a lot of time together.
And isn’t that the best way for love to start?
But this girl, though unaware of it herself, is
beautiful—and others guys started to notice, specifically, one of the boy’s best
guy friends. This guy had charisma, had plenty of dating experience and was
older than the two of them—and the girl believed in his affections for her…and
a chasm opened between her and the original, adorably dorky guy.
Saddest thing I’ve ever witnessed.
The other older guy is in this photo, posing (I covered him
with the waterfall)…but the beautiful girl isn’t even looking at him—she’s
looking back to the original, unassuming guy who loved her purely, even
unintentionally…and I just wonder what she’s thinking.
Love is hard, that’s all I know. I don’t think it comes
along often and when it does, I don’t think we’ve been trained to see it. In
fact, I would say the opposite is true: we’ve been trained (overtrained) to
recognize and go for lust, but love—in its sweetest form—is so rare as to be
unrecognizable. And when someone stumbles on it these days, it feels like a
true miracle.
But how often do we actually see it, recognize it for what
it is and go for it? Ask that pretty girl out, talk to that guy that has an
indescribable pull on you, take the time…? I think we often move too fast and
move too scared. We go for the easier-to-see lust because it makes itself loud
and proud and in our faces and gentle love gets pushed away. Love is a
frightening thing—taking over the senses so that when you see the beloved, you
truly can hardly think, let alone talk to them. (It’s so much easier to avoid
them and walk the other way than to wade through all the convoluted emotions
bashing around in you, making you feel so uncomfortable—haha, speaking from
experience.)
Long ago and far away, I was in love. I was like the girl
I’ve been writing about—completely insecure and so sure that there was no way
that I could be loved. It was the one unspoken and unrealized dream of my heart
to be loved completely (only uncovered as I painfully sorted out why liking
this guy was so disconcerting for me)—but because it was so close to the core
of who I was and I was so sure it would never happen, I fought it. I fought to
believe I was made for bigger, grander things and didn’t need love. I would
earn love: give my life to serve the poor and be so selfless that I would
finally be worthy of love I’d never received.
I was a mess.
And this guy awakened things in me and made me realize
things about myself that were very painful. It was terrifying for me to be
falling for someone—even if he was a great guy, I just couldn’t stand it. It
threw me off balance, made me see myself in a different light and made me
vulnerable. It was terrible: couple all those feelings with immersing myself in
the book Passion and Purity and you have one big mess—my heart was in
turmoil within me, but I couldn’t let on because, as Elisabeth Elliott clearly
reiterated over and over again, “The man has to lead.”
And the guy never made a move (I saw him every other day all
year!)…so, I suffered in silence.
Beyond a mess at this point: and he dates someone else. Find
me in the woods after he announces he’s going to a dance with her, almost
breaking a guitar with the violence of my sorrow and seriously wondering what’s
wrong with me. Find me tripping through the next years asking God why and
battling longing to serve God completely while still wondering…Find me praying
for this girl and guy as they date, because he keeps coming to mind and I want
the best for them…find me twenty-six now, wondering what’s next.
I write about this because it’s common to man: I thought I
was the only one who knew the torturous, unrequited side of love…but there’s
more of us out there than you would guess. I want to encourage you that God
heals and moves and does amazing things in the middle of your sorrow, your
breaking heart—and His love does come in and transform the battered heart.
I think it’s because He understands: He is, after all, the
ultimate embodiment of heartbroken love. His love goes far beyond one meager
person—covering the whole world—and so the pain must be that much greater. But
for the ones that chose Him—that choose to say yes to His love and let their
lives become His—imagine the joy.
Jesus knew the joy that was coming—it’s what enabled Him to
travel to the cross, to endure what was set before Him. He knew, He knew it
would be torture and yet “for the joy set before Him” He endured that cross,
rejecting the shame and embracing what His Father had chosen for Him.
I have life today because of that choice—and so do you, and
so can you. It is made available, beyond all the pain of the world and the pain
you may have brought to your father (heavenly or earthly)—choose Jesus and
(seriously!) life abounds for you.
The waterfall in the picture that I put between my two
friends who have become disconnected is called Bridalveil. I love that
waterfall—the towering magnificence of it and all that it represents. Jesus
came for a Bride. The disconnect happens—many times, all over the world, where
love is lost or broken—but the Lord stands above it all, still longing and
looking for His Bride.
There is still hope.
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