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This passage is sometimes referred to as the love chapter; it's been cherished by people of faith in all the centuries since it was written. It's a favorite at weddings. Its soaring poetry inspires. It seems so right, and so eloquently stated. The greatest of these is love.
But there is a danger here. Can we become so enamored with the words that we fail to realize they are meant to apply to us? This abstract thing called love—can it just be something we praise from a distance? Isn't the incarnation of Christ the living demonstration of it? Unless it can be seen and known in a person, and through people, the term we so revere is all but meaningless. Someone has suggested we should read the text as is; then read again, substituting our own name in verses 4-7. "Larry is patient, Larry is kind, Larry does not boast, Larry is not proud, Larry is not rude, is not easily angered, Larry keeps no record of wrongs. Larry always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres." Wow. Now the passage has my attention. Yes, it tells me I have my work cut out for me. But this is such a tall order, it might bring me to realize something else: this Christian life we are called to live can never be fulfilled just by my own efforts, however good my intentions. It must be a matter of Christ living in me. I must step aside; indeed, my own attempts to live this way must, as Paul wrote, be crucified with Christ. Lord, I can't. But you can. You, Lord must accomplish this. I simply make myself available to you. Putting our own names in there can also affirm us in our intention be God's person. It can reinforce the vision God has for my life. For instance, when I'm tempted to lose patience, or be rude, or show anger in a way that's destructive, I have another message in my head that can change the picture. It says, that's not really who you are in Christ. If it's firmly in my heart and mind and spirit, it gives me an alternative way of responding. This great passage points out the power of the word, when we let the word dwell in us richly. That's what it says in Colossians. "Let the word dwell in you richly." What's that mean? We don't just read or listen, and move on. We dwell with it. We turn the words over and in our minds, we let them seep into our being. The Spirit then brings them to life in us. The words become a power within, not just theory, or good ideas.
I had a friend back in Coraopolis, Pennsylvania, a fellow pastor who had a ministry among street kids there in a fairly tough part of town. I never knew anybody who lived these words so well, and it seemed there was this supernatural power of God at work in his life. One night, there was a quickly escalating argument among some kids that threatened to turn into an all-out fight. Some of them carried knives. My friend went into reconciling mode, and spoke words of calm and peace. It's hard to describe, but such was the presence of Christ that the whole scene changed. Christ accomplished it, yes, but it was through someone yielded and available and committed. God accomplishes God's purposes not just through people—through willing people; surrendered people. Here am I, Lord. Send me. Love through me.
Wouldn't it be great to have this power available to us? The promise of our faith is that we can, and we do. It doesn't happen magically. It happens in the same way that victory comes to great athletes: practice, practice, practice. Dallas Willard illustrates this by referring to young people who might idolize a sports star. When they're in a game, they try to slide head first into the base, just as their hero does. They hold the bat above their head in exactly the same way as the star. They wear the same shoes. But we know what the outcome will be. If they only try to act that way during the game, they will fail. Their hero's success came from endless hours of practice off the field—not just posturing while the game is on. His or hers was an overall life devoted to the perfection of skills every waking moment. Proper diet, exercise, rest, playing different moves over and over again in the mind, learning every day. He didn't just walk onto the field and succeed. This is often the missing element—we think of this as an impossible ideal, and quickly give up. But it says here in Corinthians, Love never gives up. From piano to tennis to computer to marksmanship, anything worth doing requires perseverance. According to the Bible, everything in this world is provisional except love. That means that the greatest skills, the most amazing abilities, are given for a higher purpose. One day, we won't need them; we won't even require faith and hope; both of these look forward to an unseen reality. But when we see God face to face, all that will endure, and all that will be necessary, is love.
And that's another angle this wonderful description gives us. In this life, a lot of the things we think are so important are actually quite fleeting, and the things we think are insignificant are often the only things that count in the long run. A heartfelt talk with a son or daughter, a word of affection exchanged with friend or spouse, a gift of money given to someone with no thought of reward, a deed of caring done simply because it was the right thing: these will never make headlines, but they are the substance of the spiritual life. By them, we transcend the old self that tries to order the universe according to its own desires, and enter more deeply into both the cause and the person of the risen Christ.
In the 1850's, Abraham Lincoln journeyed from central Illinois to Cincinnati where he was to join Edwin Stanton as a trial lawyer in a famous case. Stanton was the more famous at the time, and he had nothing but contempt for Lincoln, thinking him a backwoods dunce. He called him the "original gorilla." Lincoln was treated with extreme rudeness, and wasn't even welcomed to have meals with the other lawyers. Finally, he was told to step down from the case—his services were no longer needed. Lincoln made his way back to Springfield, humiliated. Six years later, Lincoln was president of the United States. Here's the remarkable thing: he turned to Stanton and asked him to serve as his secretary of war. The Lincolns and the Stantons would become eventually become great friends, even vacationing together in the summer. What a power of self-transcendence Lincoln demonstrated. He somehow overcame his own hurt to do what he thought best for the country. He was moved to the heights of selflessness by a higher cause, a deeper passion. Love keeps no record of wrongs.
I can't let this message on love pass without a reference to a guy named Lovie. I heard Lovie Smith on the radio before I ever saw him on TV. I tuned in in the middle of an interview, so I didn't even know who I was listening to. I remember thinking: this is the gentlest, most easy-going voice I've heard in a while. Only at the end did I learn—this is the coach of the Chicago Bears. How do you run a team like that with such a voice, and such a personality? Don't you have to bark orders, and make threats? Who of those huge superstar millionaires would listen to him? They listen. It seems this soft-spoken man was a perfect fit for the Bears. One player said he's a guy who's easy to respect. He came with three stated goals—to end the Packers' dominance of the Bears, to win the NFC championship, and to win the Superbowl. Through the hard times and losing seasons, he quietly, methodically went about pursuing the goal. He has been until now the lowest-paid NFL coach—That will change. But it seems there was always a deeper love than the money—he had wanted to coach since he was in the sixth grade. So he's living his dream—and there's something that happens to us when we're living our dream—we might say, when we're living the passion God has given us. Some among us have a deep concern for youth, to help them know Christ and to know that they are loved. Some have a gift for bringing people together in groups for growth and fun and fellowship. Some among of us are passionate about peace and justice—and you're most fulfilled when you're working on that. Some among us have a real gift for generous giving—and you'd never subscribe to the idea we should give till it hurts, because you know what it's like to give till it feels good. Some know they're called to help the earth and do something about climate change. There are those who thrive on ministries of music or prayer or working in the garden or building things or teaching or equipping people or community service. What's all this got to do with love? We are able to grow in love when we're doing what we love—when we sense that we're discovering the purpose God has put us here for. So, this tells me, one of the church's main goals should be to help people to find their passion, and equip them to fulfill it. We don't want to draw down energy, but to build it up.
Lastly, this. Paul said, we see through a glass darkly. He was talking about growing up in the Lord, being the grown-ups—but sort of admitting, we're not there yet. Never will be while on this earth: not till we see God face to face. So: let's not expect perfection of ourselves, or others. There's still only one who has perfect love. His name is Jesus. But whatever our point on the journey, he's beckoning to us to come on up to the next step. Let there be a restlessness in your heart that moves you on, closer to God, closer to the love that defies explanation, because it is a love that comes from God.
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